next table turned to glare at me. “That’s a hoot,” I said, reining in my amusement. “On her business card it lists Paris, London, and New York as her residences.”
“I think it also says she’s an oracle,” Nick said thoughtfully. “She sent along one of her cards with a press packet on her new book. So she fudges the truth a little.”
“Some oracle.” I snorted. “She only has one shtick. She predicts dark and dangerous deeds, along with some evildoings.”
“Dark, dangerous, and evil?” Nick parroted.
“Yeah, she sounds like an ad for a Kevin Williamson flick.”
“And—”
“And what?” I picked through some lifeless lettuce on the platter, looking for a sliver of heirloom tomato or a bit of red-skinned onion. Maybe even a hot pepper or two. Nada. Nick was unbelievable; he really had eaten the whole thing.
“Maggie,” he said, leaning across the table, looking intently at me, “you know what happened shortly after she made these predictions.”
“Oh. Well.” I stopped to think. “Althea was murdered, if that’s what you mean.”
“Exactly.”
“Don’t be too impressed. Chantel says this sort of thing all the time. She’s bound to be right occasionally. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, you know.”
Nick shook his head. “You’re quoting Sigmund Freud again?”
“No. That was Dr. Phil.”
Chapter 10
“Tell me what else you dug up on Chantel,” I said, eyeing the fat folder he’d plunked down onto the tabletop.
“There’s a lot here.” He glanced up abstractedly as the server put his Heineken down in front of him with a blinding smile. She’d already told us her name was Lori. Three times, actually. She was very pretty and made a big show of fiddling with the coaster, eyeing Nick like he was Robert Pattinson. She slapped my iced tea in front of me with no fanfare at all and hightailed it back to the kitchen.
“She’s been on the move her whole life, never really settling down anywhere.”
I nodded. “Interesting.” I sipped my iced tea and wondered whether I dared try to flag Lori down and ask for a slice of lemon. “Where has she lived?”
Nick put on his reading glasses to scan the sheaf of papers. The rimless glasses gave him a “hot young professor” look, and I couldn’t resist a grin. “San Diego, San Francisco, New York, Montreal, New Orleans. She’s bounced back and forth all over the place. And she must be smart, because she didn’t leave much of a paper trail. Smart and very cunning, a dangerous combination. Sometimes she didn’t even seem to have an address, so I assume she stayed with friends in the area. Also no credit card history. She must have used cash or maybe mooched meals off people.”
I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around what Nick was telling me. “I don’t get it. Those are expensive cities. Even if she was invited out to dinner a lot, she must have had some source of income. How did she support herself?”
“The séances, I guess. Don’t forget she’s been doing them for a long time. It’s only in the past year or so that she’s actually gotten these book deals, and that’s what gave her a platform. The séances, the books, the personal appearances—they all work together; they drive each other. I’m pretty sure she was scrounging for years and years before her career took off.” He held up a newspaper clipping. “This appeared in the arts and entertainment section of the Dallas Morning News twenty years ago. So it predates the Internet. Chantel was giving séances for wealthy Dallas women in their homes and it made the society column. Someone faxed it to me, or I never would have had access to it.”
Predates the Internet . Never would have had access to it. Yowsers. I suddenly remembered what Mildred had said on my show today. It was time to shift gears. “Nick, forget about Chantel for a moment. There’s something else I need to tell you.”
He patted the folder and pretended to look
“I think it also says she’s an oracle,” Nick said thoughtfully. “She sent along one of her cards with a press packet on her new book. So she fudges the truth a little.”
“Some oracle.” I snorted. “She only has one shtick. She predicts dark and dangerous deeds, along with some evildoings.”
“Dark, dangerous, and evil?” Nick parroted.
“Yeah, she sounds like an ad for a Kevin Williamson flick.”
“And—”
“And what?” I picked through some lifeless lettuce on the platter, looking for a sliver of heirloom tomato or a bit of red-skinned onion. Maybe even a hot pepper or two. Nada. Nick was unbelievable; he really had eaten the whole thing.
“Maggie,” he said, leaning across the table, looking intently at me, “you know what happened shortly after she made these predictions.”
“Oh. Well.” I stopped to think. “Althea was murdered, if that’s what you mean.”
“Exactly.”
“Don’t be too impressed. Chantel says this sort of thing all the time. She’s bound to be right occasionally. Even a stopped clock is right twice a day, you know.”
Nick shook his head. “You’re quoting Sigmund Freud again?”
“No. That was Dr. Phil.”
Chapter 10
“Tell me what else you dug up on Chantel,” I said, eyeing the fat folder he’d plunked down onto the tabletop.
“There’s a lot here.” He glanced up abstractedly as the server put his Heineken down in front of him with a blinding smile. She’d already told us her name was Lori. Three times, actually. She was very pretty and made a big show of fiddling with the coaster, eyeing Nick like he was Robert Pattinson. She slapped my iced tea in front of me with no fanfare at all and hightailed it back to the kitchen.
“She’s been on the move her whole life, never really settling down anywhere.”
I nodded. “Interesting.” I sipped my iced tea and wondered whether I dared try to flag Lori down and ask for a slice of lemon. “Where has she lived?”
Nick put on his reading glasses to scan the sheaf of papers. The rimless glasses gave him a “hot young professor” look, and I couldn’t resist a grin. “San Diego, San Francisco, New York, Montreal, New Orleans. She’s bounced back and forth all over the place. And she must be smart, because she didn’t leave much of a paper trail. Smart and very cunning, a dangerous combination. Sometimes she didn’t even seem to have an address, so I assume she stayed with friends in the area. Also no credit card history. She must have used cash or maybe mooched meals off people.”
I shook my head, trying to wrap my mind around what Nick was telling me. “I don’t get it. Those are expensive cities. Even if she was invited out to dinner a lot, she must have had some source of income. How did she support herself?”
“The séances, I guess. Don’t forget she’s been doing them for a long time. It’s only in the past year or so that she’s actually gotten these book deals, and that’s what gave her a platform. The séances, the books, the personal appearances—they all work together; they drive each other. I’m pretty sure she was scrounging for years and years before her career took off.” He held up a newspaper clipping. “This appeared in the arts and entertainment section of the Dallas Morning News twenty years ago. So it predates the Internet. Chantel was giving séances for wealthy Dallas women in their homes and it made the society column. Someone faxed it to me, or I never would have had access to it.”
Predates the Internet . Never would have had access to it. Yowsers. I suddenly remembered what Mildred had said on my show today. It was time to shift gears. “Nick, forget about Chantel for a moment. There’s something else I need to tell you.”
He patted the folder and pretended to look
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