“So I guess you two are—”
“None of your business.” I narrowed my eyes on the mechanic.
“Hey, I was just asking if I needed to make up the couch tonight, that’s all.”
“Does he?” Chance found the sweet spot at the base of my skull and worked his thumb so that a pleasurable chill rippled over me.
“Yeah. He does.”
“Oh.” I heard the disappointment in his tone as he dropped his hand. Ghostly warmth lingered on my skin where he’d touched me.
“I might hurt you,” I said. “Maybe when you heal up some.”
We both knew that was just an excuse. More to the point, I still didn’t trust him. Between his control issues, his emotional distance, and his luck, I didn’t know whether I could survive a second try with Chance.
“Sure. Maybe.” As he stepped back, I saw the etched quality to his features.
Why did he have the ability to make me feel like I was breaking his heart? Was I supposed to believe he’d pined for me when he could have anybody he wanted? We weren’t soul mates. Back in the day, we didn’t have some great, immortal love. Did we?
Then I remembered something my friend Sara said when I was trying to console her after a breakup. I said the usual—“You’ll meet somebody else.” And she replied: “What does that matter when the one you want is walking away?”
If I got out of this mess, I needed to call her. When I ran, I’d left everything and everyone behind. I’d started a new life in Mexico City, but I hadn’t made friends. I existed in a quiet vacuum, interacting but not touching.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I told Chance then. “So we can sort ‘us’ out after this is done. Worry about me if you want, but I’ll see this thing through.”
“I hear that’s what they said at the Alamo too.” Chuch grinned as he pushed to his feet. “I’m gonna go see if dinner’s done. Remember, new rug.”
Supper sounded like a great idea, not just because I didn’t feel up to alone time with Chance. I followed our host back to the kitchen, where Eva was pulling the glass dish out of the oven with giant blue mitts.
“Smells great. Anything I can do?”
The woman loved to organize. “Set the table, and use the good dishes. Glasses are in the cupboard beside the fridge.”
“Jesse’s joining us. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s fantastic! So we’re on for tonight then?” Eva got out a big slotted spoon and stabbed it into the middle of the casserole.
I caught the look Chuch and Chance exchanged. They weren’t delighted to have a cop sniffing around, probably for different reasons.
“Yeah, it looks like.”
We were halfway through the meal when Saldana’s Forester pulled into the driveway. I got up to answer the door before he knocked and waved him in. “Everyone’s in the kitchen. Come on back. Have you eaten?”
He appeared to take stock of the homey rooms at a glance as we passed through. “No, I came straight over. Will they mind feeding me?”
Of course Eva overheard. “No, we have plenty. Chuch hates leftovers anyway.”
The mechanic shrugged. “The noodles get all gluey.”
Remembering my manners, I performed the introductions. The guys shook hands and Eva checked out Saldana like she did Chance. Maybe she just liked to look, no matter how much she loved Chuch. I could see her point; sometimes it was nice to enjoy the man candy, no strings attached.
I scraped the last of the casserole onto a plate and warmed it up for Jesse. Tried not to notice the way Chance glanced between us, as if he could somehow sense what happened, or almost happened, in San Antonio. That summoned heat to my cheeks, part anger and part chagrin, considering what I now suspected.
Yeah, this might get awkward. You could stir the testosterone soup with a spoon.
I sat down at the round glass table to finish my own food. Eva either possessed the sensitivity of a tone-deaf airport announcer or she opted to ignore the tension. Either way, she chattered to fill the silence. I could’ve kissed her for that, but the guys probably would’ve liked it too much.
By the time we’d cleaned our plates, the mood felt a little lighter. At least I no longer thought Chance was seriously entertaining the idea of killing Saldana and asking Chuch to help him hide the body. I could’ve taken Chance aside and confided my suspicions, but I didn’t. I thought he deserved the uncertainty of wondering about Saldana.
Like a good hostess, Eva started clearing the table. “Dessert, anyone? I have Oreos and Cookies ’n’ Cream ice cream.”
“I’m seeing a theme here,” Jesse said with a killer smile. “I wouldn’t say no to cookies. As a kid I loved to open them up and lick the creamy center.”
My cheeks burned just hearing that. Surely he knew how it sounded. Somehow I managed to meet his eyes, and oh, yes, he knew exactly what he’d just said, but he didn’t intend to flirt with me, or Eva for that matter. Jesse was just provoking Chance.
Chance didn’t take the bait, just narrowed his eyes. “No thanks, Eva. We should probably get started.”
“I’ll have some ice cream,” Chuch said, as if oblivious to the nuances.
A glance out the window told me it would be dark soon. The sky showed the color of bruised plums, stars just twinkling into sight. “Let me go take a look online, see what advice Madame Claudine has to offer.”
“Madame Claudine?” Saldana stood when I did, making Chance do the same for fear of looking rude. Chuch just sat rubbing his belly and waiting for his Cookies ’n’ Cream. “You picked a good person to ask. She works in Baton Rouge, has a nice little business getting in touch with dead relatives. More authentic than John Edward.”
“Who?” I turned with a questioning look.
Jesse shook his head. “Never mind.”
Part of me couldn’t believe we were actually going to do this. I mean, it would be hypocritical of me to say I don’t believe in the afterlife and things that go bump in the night. Shit, some people consider me one of them. But I’ve never gone out of my way to look for the weird and unusual. Then again, I guess I don’t need to because it always seems to find me.
As I headed for the office, Chance fell in behind me. I expected him to make some comment about Jesse, but instead he sat down on the edge of the desk and let me call up Area 51. To my surprise, Madame Claudine had answered, outlining her basic steps on how to go about contacting a dead loved one. I made some notes as I read through.
“Huh,” I said. “I wonder if she gives her secrets away to everyone. Or perhaps just those she thinks can succeed at it.”
“If what you said about Saldana is true, only the gifted have access to this site.” He didn’t sound jealous, just quiet and remote.
I’ve heard that tone more than once over the years, and I used to think it signified indifference. Now I wondered if he withdrew when he anticipated being hurt, distance to avoid vulnerability. Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought. God, I refused to face the idea that I might’ve run from him because I was afraid.
We don’t have time for this. Min’s clock might be winding down.
“Yeah.”
I ripped the page off the yellow legal pad and went back to the kitchen. By this time, Chuch and Jesse had finished their dessert and looked like they were just waiting on the fun to begin. Taking stock, I decided the kitchen table would do, even though it had a glass top, not wood, but evidently the round shape was good. We needed six candles and—
“So,” I said aloud, “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”
“Bad,” Eva said promptly. “The good should smooth it over afterward.”
“Fair enough. According to Madame Claudine, we need one more person to do this or two of us should leave. The number of people involved in a séance should always be divisible by three.”
“What? Why?” Chuch protested. “That’s crazy. There were about fifty people running around when my tia Rosario—”
“You sure it wasn’t fifty-one?” I raised a brow.
“No, he’s not.” Eva frowned at her husband. “Three is a sacred number. Even I know that. The Power of Three is the highest connection to the Creator, the Holy Trinity, all that. You ever look at a Star of David? It’s all triangles.”
The way Jesse smiled at me as he stood, I knew he meant to start trouble. “I’ll take Corine to the movies. Let us know how it goes.”
Raising the Dead
“No,” Eva said at once. “I’m sure I can get somebody over here. We need another woman to balance us out. What’s the good news?”
“Well, otherwise we seem to be set. We have the table”—I rapped on the glass top—“but we need some fresh bread or warm soup as an offering to the recently deceased. Apparently minestrone is best. Do you have any?”
In her message, Madame Claudine went on at length about the best soups. If there was no minestrone, then chicken noodle would do. Under no circumstances should we ever offer a spirit cream of mushroom. I didn’t take time to ask why. She also included a list of breads, which must be fresh. Apparently spirits don’t take kindly to sourdough either.
“Hm . . .” Eva went to the cupboards, rummaged, and then produced a can of Progresso with a triumphant air. “Will this do? I’m not making homemade for a dead lady. No offense, Officer Saldana. I’m sure she was a lovely person.”
“None taken.” Jesse eyed me up and down as if wondering whether we were all crazy. We might be. Maybe the movies would’ve been a better bet, except I wouldn’t go off with a guy I suspected might have whacked his ex.
“We’ll also need candles.” Chance glanced up from perusing the notes from Madame Claudine’s list. “Six—one for each of us, since we’re using the Power of Three.”
“We have some bug repelling ones from the last barbeque,” Chuch put in. “They’re citronella, though, so they’re kind of stinky.”