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that, do you see it?”
    “Yes, I do, Holley . It’s an M.”
    Holley clapped her hands with glee . “An M! Do you know what that means?”
    Tuesday replied solemnly, “Yes, I do, sweetheart,” wondering how she would cope when Hol ley fell apart as the meaning of this reading sank in. M. For murder. Next to what was clearly a corpse. The image had no life in it that Tuesday could see, as the body of a baby, which signified new life, would.
    “I’m going to get the part!”
    After a slight double take, Tuesday asked, “What? What part?”
    “The lady pilot role. That’s M for money. I’m going to get paid big money for that new movie. Movie. Yes, that confirms it. M for money and M for movie. Oh, Miss Tuesday, you are the best.”
    Holley leaned over and hugged Tuesday. “Thank you so much. I’m going home now and call my agent to work on the contract.”
    Tuesday decided not to burst her client’s bubble. “No, Holley, I wouldn’t do that. You want to let the energy flow, not interfere with it by working on details prematurely. Allow things to happen in their own time. Just let it be until you fully understand what this means.”
    Excitement brought more color to Holley’s cheeks. “You’re right,” she cooed. “I think I’ll go home now and call Albert’s for one of their high colonics. It’s that spa in Toluca Lake. They always refresh me.”
    “That’s a good idea. I’ll drive you.”
    “Oh, no, Miss Tuesday. You’ve done enough. I’ll call a cab. How much do I owe you?”
    Tuesday was fighting with Holley’s interpretation of the tea leaves. Then she thought, Money? Movie? If they make her feel good, why not? One thing she had learned in her reading practice, people will only see what they are ready to see.
    Holley searched th rough her handbag, then held up her hands apologetically. “Put this on my tab would you? We left in such a rush, I didn’t bring the purse with my wallet in it.”
    Tuesday said, “Sure. ”
    “And charge me twice for coming to my house. I’ll pay you next week.”
    “That’s fine, Holley. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you next Monday, same time. But here, not your house, right?”
    “Right.”
    Then Holley ran out of the Café with her cellphone to her ear, calling a cab. Tuesday watched the door close behind her, uneasy about the reading. She scooped up the candy bar under the table. It was too late to start her cleanse today. Her body was out of synch from the bad air on the plane and jet lag. Oh, wait. No jet lag. Well, from getting up at such an ungodly hour. And did she feel a little low blood sugar? She paused, checking out her internal workings. Yes, she did. She peeled the wrapper and took a satisfying bite of the chocolate.
    But the front door opened and Holley came running back into the Café. Tuesday quickly hid the candy bar in her lap. “Oh, Miss Tuesday. Duh. I don’t have my wallet. Can you lend me some money for a cab?”
    Tuesday fished a twenty out of her bag and Holley took off. Then a chill ran down her spine. Maybe they’d worked out the meaning of the M, but they hadn’t talked about the corpse in the teacup.

Chapter Five: A Corpse In A Teacup
    Tuesday hauled her luggage into the bedroom from the living room, where the airport van driver had dumped it after she paid him an enormous tip for trucking it up the stairs.
    She did not feel like unpacking after the disturbing reading with Holley, but the bags created a barricade between the front door and the rest of her apartment. So, one by one, she wheeled them out of the way, down the hall into her bedroom and began empting them into her closet and dresser drawers. Each colorful outfit reminded her of her trip to Darling Valley and her cockamamie visit with Olivia. She had spent many happy hours with her best friend, but none while she had been accused of murder. She shivered, as through trying to shake the mantle of crime that had surrounded her for a week. This Holley thing was