Crazy in Chicago by Norah-Jean Perkin

Author:Norah-Jean Perkin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Fiction Works
Published: 2012-06-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Inside the apartment, Allie shuddered. A hundred possible reasons for Madame Carabini’s visit flitted through her head, none of them good. For a brief moment, Allie considered not opening the door.

She grimaced. No, whatever the reason, she’d better face it. Numerous worries, things she didn’t understand and couldn’t cope with, already beset her. Surely she could deal with one mild-mannered, middle-aged psychic?

Pasting a cardboard smile on her face, she opened the door. “Why, Madame Carabini, what brings you here?”

The woman, every inch the suburban matron, from her permed light brown hair to her tidy but nondescript clothes, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, hardly the picture of serenity Allie recalled.

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you, but it can’t be helped,” Madame Carabini said. She bit her lip, then rushed on, “It’s urgent that I talk to you.”

The words sent a chill down Allie’s spine. The smile froze on her face. “Come in,” she said. Go away, please go away.

Reluctantly she guided the psychic to a seat in the living room. She sat down across from her, and folded her hands in her lap, the deliberate motions aimed at projecting an aura of calm she did not feel.

Like a bird teetering on the edge of its nest, uncertain whether to remain or take flight, Madame Carabini perched on the edge of the couch. She wasted no time coming to the point. “Did you know Mr. Walker—Cody Walker—came to see me last week?”

“Yes, he told me. Actually, he just left here a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Madame Carabini sounded surprised. She paused, then returned to her course. “He told me that you had married that photographer who accompanied you to our session. Erik Berenger, I believe?”

Allie nodded.

“I, er, well, you remember that I warned you against Mr. Berenger?”

“Yes.” Allie went on the attack, an approach whose effectiveness she’d learned as a reporter and columnist. “And I appreciated your concern for me. But as you can see, everything’s fine. Erik is a good man, a good husband. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise. We’re very happy. We have a wonderful daughter.”

“May I see her?”

The woman’s request bothered Allie. She didn’t know why. She hedged. “Perhaps another time. She’s sleeping now and I don’t want her disturbed. The littlest thing wakes her up.”

She continued. “Speaking of sleeping, I was just heading off for a nap myself. So unless you’ve got some more questions . . .”

“Just one more thing.” Madame Carabini squeezed her hands together. She made a face and shifted on the couch. She sighed. “There’s no way to say this without sounding ridiculous or melodramatic. But I sense what I sense and I can’t ignore it any longer.”

“Ignore what?” Foreboding uncoiled in Allie’s stomach.

Madame Carabini took a deep breath. Her aquamarine eyes focused squarely on Allie. “The feeling I get that whatever person or thing that was involved in Mr. Walker’s disappearance last year is at work again. Now. Here.”

“What? Are you saying that Cody’s going to be abducted again?”

“I didn’t say that.

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