Georgie and Juni grunt and groan as they look around. As soon as Jasper left for work this morning, I scooped up Fish and put her in a baby carrier, a cloth strip that sits across my chest like a front-facing papoose. That move alone tipped off the mother-daughter duo, and the two of them knew something sinister was afoot. Once they heard the word mystic, both Georgie and Juni were on board for whatever shenanigans were lying in wait.
They quickly donned their matching tie-dyed kaftans, a swirling psychedelic rainbow in hues of purple, red, and blue, and here we are in the entryway of a rather cozy shop, overstuffed with ominous books and large framed pictures of different mystical landscapes.
Fish pokes her furry little head out of the cloth papoose and takes a look around. I really do love holding her this way. Not only can I feel the warmth of her body against mine, but her purring vibrates right through my bones and lets me know she’s happy to be here.
A bookshop? Her left ear twitches. It looks as if Molly had a lot in common with the deceased.
“More than you know,” I whisper. “This place looks identical to Killer Books.”
Juni sucks in a breath. “They’ve got bargain bin boxes in the back. You know I can’t pass up a good deal.”
Georgie is quick to link arms with her not-so mini-me and pull her in close.
“Not so fast, missy. The last time you hit the bargain bins, you came home with three boxes of motor oil and two crates of rotten apples. My tiny cottage can only hold so much.”
I pull a tight smile. “On the plus side, your car will be lubed well into the next decade.”
A tall man, heavyset, with a red beard and matching hair heads our way. He’s dressed in black pants, a white frilly dress shirt, and a black vest. There’s something theatrical about him, about this entire place, and suddenly it feels as if we’ve stepped onto a stage in the middle of a play and we’re trying to feel our way through it.
“Welcome to the Mystic Eye,” he says with a cheery tone. “I’m Brad, the manager. How can I help you?”
“Yes,” I say, unsure of which direction my words should go in next.
I suppose after all of the suspects I’ve questioned, I should be well aware that I need to go into a situation like this with a plan, but for some reason, the excitement of showing up unexpected on a suspect’s proverbial doorstep has me temporarily blinded to the details, like this one, for instance.
Fish yowls. For goodness’ sake, Bizzy, introduce yourself.
“I’m Bizzy Baker,” I say, blinking to life. “And these are my friends, Georgie and Juni. We were just looking for—”
Fish taps her paw to my chest. Something for me?
“Something for my cat.” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth. I probably shouldn’t have led with that.
“Your cat?” Brad inches back a moment before peering over at Fish. A genuine smile erupts from him, warm and kind. “Hey there, little guy. What’s going on? You need a spiritual attitude adjustment? Wish I could say you were the first.” He looks my way. “Pet auras and other animal kingdom inquiries are on the far wall.”
Juni tosses her hands in the air. “I’ve been looking for these answers my entire life. Every dog I’ve owned has liked my exes better than me, and I’m about to find out why.” She takes off.
Georgie lifts a crooked finger at the man before us. “You got anything on the soul of an artist?”
He glances to the books on the table in front of us. “I’ve got a book on the seven principle talents. They say most people have at least one of the talents listed in the book. But I’ve got a sneaking suspicion you’ve got all seven.”
Georgie belts out a laugh. “And I’ve got a sneaking suspicion you’re a flirt. Keep up the good work, handsome. It will get you everywhere.” Georgie dives right over to the nearest table and begins plowing through the iridescent navy book in search of validation she really doesn’t need.
Brad shakes his head her way. That is one fine-looking mama. I wonder if she’d mind if I slipped her my number? I wouldn’t mind getting everywhere with her—with just about anyone.
“Nice,” I say as I let out a breath of frustration.
Brad tips his chin my way. “Anything else for you and the cat?” He pats Fish’s forehead with his finger.
“Actually, I was wondering if Molly was here?” A part of me is hoping she’s not. I have a feeling I might get further probing Brad. Or in the least Georgie might.
His demeanor shifts on a dime and he grunts at the thought of her.
“She’s in the back. Want me to get her?”
“The back?” Do I want him to get her? I mean, it’s not like I know her. “Um—”
Before I can answer, Molly heads this way with her shock of dark hair looking a bit wilder and frizzier than I remember. She has dark circles under her eyes and her clothes look wrinkled. Grief will do that to a person. I’m shocked she even bothered to show up at work today.
Brad waves her over. “I think we’ve got some customers for you.”
Molly rolls her eyes as she clutches a book in her hand. Here we go again. Another housewife who wants to know if her husband is cheating on her. Maybe I’ll think up something extra juicy to tell her. Heck, maybe I’ll throw the old lady in the crazy dress
