park?”
“I don’t know what she was talking to Zoey about, but I don’t like it,” I said.
Aunt Avril stood still in the middle of the kitchen. She put one finger up and opened the cupboard above the fridge. Her purse sat inside, next to the boxes of cereal. Striding to the door, she motioned for me to follow.
I hollered to Mom to let her know I was going out, and climbed in Aunt Avril’s car before she rocketed out of our driveway.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s time that we pay Mrs. Saddlebury another visit. I’m going to ask her some questions.” Aunt Avril put her hand on my arm. “I want you to pay attention to her emotions, just like you did with Betsy. Maybe we can find out something that will connect her to the other murders.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” The first time I’d tuned in to Mrs. Saddlebury’s emotions hadn’t been pleasant. An image in my mind of Taminy, sitting in the dirt, reminded me that I still wasn’t good at sorting out my own emotions from those around me. If Mrs. Saddlebury got angry with us, would I be able to stay calm? “I don’t have a good handle on the whole emotion-thing yet.” I told Aunt Avril about my run-in with Taminy at the park.
“This is good!” Aunt Avril’s hair bounced as she whipped between looking at my face and keeping an eye on the road. “This means you are becoming more aware of your ability. You need to concentrate on what you are feeling, and learn to discern when those feelings come from you, and how you should—” Aunt Avril stopped mid-sentence and slowed the car, her face forward in concentration. She did a U-turn and parked in front of a brick building with a hand-painted sign above the door that read, ‘Smith’s Seconds’.
“I’ll have to feel it out, but I’m pretty sure that Mrs. Saddlebury has been here, and recently. Let’s look around.” Aunt Avril stepped up to the building and peered in one of the two small windows that were packed with knick-knacks and curios. An antique bicycle parked next to the door. When we walked in, a chime announced our arrival to the absent cashier.
I wrinkled my nose and took a shallow breath. The air smelled sweet and stuffy. Antiques and jumbles of souvenirs crowded every inch of the store. Stacks of books balanced precariously against each other in the corners. Wooden cuckoo clocks, framed cross-stitched sayings, and battered tin plates lettered with advertisements of products long forgotten, overcrowded the walls.
Aunt Avril weaved past the empty cashier’s desk to a glass case full of tiny glass figurines, and animals made out of stone. “I’ve never seen such a collection of fetishes.” Her eyes searched the assortment eagerly.
I wandered into the next room and found myself in a costume emporium. Hand-laced sweaters and beaded blouses adorned the walls next to racks of old-fashioned skirts. A pair of black boots with rows of tiny buttons nestled in a box underneath a rack of feather-topped hats and pearl necklaces. Now this I could be excited about. With a little shoe polish, those boots would look great with jeans.
I turned over the price tag attached with string to the old-fashioned boots. Dang. I’d expected the price to be high, but the amount was ridiculously out of my price range.
“You can rent them.” The voice came from behind me.
I jumped, turning to find a lady in glasses observing me. She wore slacks and a blue silk blouse. I wasn’t sure what I expected the owner of the store to look like—not this average, pleasant-faced woman.
“Thanks. I’m just looking,” I said.
Her eyes settled on the Celtic knot from Aunt Avril that I had strung on a necklace around my neck.
“I have something you may like.” She strode out of sight into the next clothing-packed room. I didn’t know if I should follow her, so I stayed in the costume room. Aunt Avril paced in the entryway, talking on her phone.
“Here is a gown I’ve saved for a discerning
“I don’t know what she was talking to Zoey about, but I don’t like it,” I said.
Aunt Avril stood still in the middle of the kitchen. She put one finger up and opened the cupboard above the fridge. Her purse sat inside, next to the boxes of cereal. Striding to the door, she motioned for me to follow.
I hollered to Mom to let her know I was going out, and climbed in Aunt Avril’s car before she rocketed out of our driveway.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s time that we pay Mrs. Saddlebury another visit. I’m going to ask her some questions.” Aunt Avril put her hand on my arm. “I want you to pay attention to her emotions, just like you did with Betsy. Maybe we can find out something that will connect her to the other murders.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” The first time I’d tuned in to Mrs. Saddlebury’s emotions hadn’t been pleasant. An image in my mind of Taminy, sitting in the dirt, reminded me that I still wasn’t good at sorting out my own emotions from those around me. If Mrs. Saddlebury got angry with us, would I be able to stay calm? “I don’t have a good handle on the whole emotion-thing yet.” I told Aunt Avril about my run-in with Taminy at the park.
“This is good!” Aunt Avril’s hair bounced as she whipped between looking at my face and keeping an eye on the road. “This means you are becoming more aware of your ability. You need to concentrate on what you are feeling, and learn to discern when those feelings come from you, and how you should—” Aunt Avril stopped mid-sentence and slowed the car, her face forward in concentration. She did a U-turn and parked in front of a brick building with a hand-painted sign above the door that read, ‘Smith’s Seconds’.
“I’ll have to feel it out, but I’m pretty sure that Mrs. Saddlebury has been here, and recently. Let’s look around.” Aunt Avril stepped up to the building and peered in one of the two small windows that were packed with knick-knacks and curios. An antique bicycle parked next to the door. When we walked in, a chime announced our arrival to the absent cashier.
I wrinkled my nose and took a shallow breath. The air smelled sweet and stuffy. Antiques and jumbles of souvenirs crowded every inch of the store. Stacks of books balanced precariously against each other in the corners. Wooden cuckoo clocks, framed cross-stitched sayings, and battered tin plates lettered with advertisements of products long forgotten, overcrowded the walls.
Aunt Avril weaved past the empty cashier’s desk to a glass case full of tiny glass figurines, and animals made out of stone. “I’ve never seen such a collection of fetishes.” Her eyes searched the assortment eagerly.
I wandered into the next room and found myself in a costume emporium. Hand-laced sweaters and beaded blouses adorned the walls next to racks of old-fashioned skirts. A pair of black boots with rows of tiny buttons nestled in a box underneath a rack of feather-topped hats and pearl necklaces. Now this I could be excited about. With a little shoe polish, those boots would look great with jeans.
I turned over the price tag attached with string to the old-fashioned boots. Dang. I’d expected the price to be high, but the amount was ridiculously out of my price range.
“You can rent them.” The voice came from behind me.
I jumped, turning to find a lady in glasses observing me. She wore slacks and a blue silk blouse. I wasn’t sure what I expected the owner of the store to look like—not this average, pleasant-faced woman.
“Thanks. I’m just looking,” I said.
Her eyes settled on the Celtic knot from Aunt Avril that I had strung on a necklace around my neck.
“I have something you may like.” She strode out of sight into the next clothing-packed room. I didn’t know if I should follow her, so I stayed in the costume room. Aunt Avril paced in the entryway, talking on her phone.
“Here is a gown I’ve saved for a discerning
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