A Murder in Mohair Read Online Free PDF Page B

told you that?”
    â€œEdie. She was at Maggie’s shop yesterday morning, and started talking about Nora. How she’d been so depressed after she lost her son, and the only thing that’s helped her so far is visiting this psychic.”
    â€œI’ve heard of her. My boss brought her advertising cards into the office.” Suzanne pulled the paper off a straw and stirred up her iced coffee. “He hired the psychic for a party. He said she was very good.”
    â€œVery entertaining, you mean,” Dana clarified. “Saying she was ‘good’ would infer that she could really predict things.”
    Suzanne shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t invited. But I have to admit, I do believe that some people have some sort of sixth sense. I’m not saying everybody who hangs out a fortune-teller shingle is for real. But there are some weird and unexplainable things going on in the universe, ladies. Grandma Bella, for instance, would have dreams about people in the family that really came true.” Suzanne shrugged. “You never know, right?”
    Dana tilted her head. “I don’t count out psychic abilities or events entirely, either,” she said. “For one thing, I’ve had too many patients tell me about intuitive feelings that come true. Or even prescient dreams. Carl Jung believed in extrasensory perception, synchronicity, and a collective unconscious that connects everyone. He studied and wrote about those topics extensively.”
    â€œYes, I’ve heard that.” Lucy took another sip of water. She was listening to her friends, of course, but also watching Cassandra Waters and Nora.
    â€œI did not understand half of what you just said, Dana. But I think you sort of agreed with me.” Suzanne looked pleased by this small victory.
    â€œI do. But I also agree, most people who sell themselves as psychics—and I do mean sell—are total fakers, merely expert at reading people by appearance and body language and their reactions to certain key questions.”
    The food arrived: a yogurt and fruit parfait for Dana, a breakfast burrito for Suzanne, and for Lucy, an egg white omelet with mushrooms, a slice of tomato, and sprig of parsley. She forced a smile and dug into her dish, reminding herself of how lean and mean she was going to look on her birthday.
    â€œI could practically claim to be a psychic myself. I have to practice all those techniques in my practice,” Dana added.
    Suzanne tucked extra napkins into the neckline of her hot pink tank top. “I never thought of it that way. A new career for you, Dana, in your retirement years.”
    Dana laughed. “You never know.”
    â€œLet me test your powers . . . will this burrito give me heartburn? I have a lot of houses to show today.”
    Dana closed her eyes and theatrically pressed her fingertips to her forehead. Then turned to look at Suzanne. “The spirits say . . . save half for lunch.”
    â€œGood call,” Lucy agreed, around a bite of omelet that was actually quite tasty. “But that’s just common sense.”
    Before Suzanne could reply, another voice cut into the conversation. “Hey, ladies, how are you doing? Need anything? Ketchup, napkins . . . more coffee?”
    Edie had snuck up on her big white shoes, a stack of menus tucked under one arm and a coffee canister in hand.
    â€œIt’s all good, Edie,” Lucy replied. “How are you? How’s your angina?”
    Edie waved the coffee canister. “My ticker’s fine. Just took a few extra pills last night. I haven’t heard any more news about Jimmy Hubbard. Have any of you?”
    Poor Jimmy . . . they’d forgotten all about him, distracted by Cassandra Waters and Suzanne’s unsolicited relationship advice.
    â€œI did hear a few things from Jack,” Dana replied, in a quiet tone.
    â€œWait a minute . . .