Doodled to Death: A Dog Lover's Cozy Mystery (Barkview Mysteries Book 4) by C.B. Wilson

Author:C.B. Wilson
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-10-06T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

A quick visit with Chad’s psychic, Madame Orr, seemed in order. The curtain above the wildflowers and variegated coleus swished as I parked in front of the yellow-and-white-gabled Victorian. No need to call ahead for an appointment. Madame Orr knew I’d arrived.

My last visit here had changed many of my predispositions regarding fortune-tellers, but still I did not trust Madame Orr. Her family’s claim to the Douglas Diamond certainly gave her ample reason to find the stone, but we had forged a relationship of sorts.

G-paw paused at the stone walkway, sniffing. Not with concern or trepidation, just interest. As we entered the bright yellow door, a rich agarwood scent surrounded us. As on my first visit, a round, café-sized wood table separating two comfy wing-back chairs upholstered in neutral beige sat in the center of the chic parlor. A deck of oversize celestial tarot cards glared at me from the tabletop. Not another card reading preset to show the dog card?

Madame Orr specialized in putting people off their game. Not letting her remained the challenge. Sensing my anxiety, G-paw brushed his soft hair against my leg. I rested my hand on his head, oddly calmed. How did this dog drop my blood pressure so effectively?

Madame Orr and her Bedlington Terrier, Danior (more sheep than dog, with its Filbert-shaped ears and pear-shaped head, if you ask me), met us inside. Dressed in her usual shimmering, flowing robe, the large-boned woman seemed to float across the area rug. “I see you’ve made a new friend, Catalina.”

Old news on the Barkview gossip superhighway. I inclined my head, avoiding her heavily charcoaled, dark-as-night eyes. The contrast of her plaited black hair with her pale skin still unsettled me. G-paw contemplated Danior with a mix of curiosity and caution.

Madame Orr tossed her dog a plush toy, effectively breaking that contact. As usual, the sheeplike dog attacked the toy with intent to maim. One squeak later, the dog held the toy beneath both paws while his teeth tore at the stitching.

I swear the Golden Doodle did a double take. No question, Madame Orr’s dog was as original as she was.

“Like the rest of us, you will accept your match eventually.” The glint in Madame Orr’s eyes challenged me to disagree.

Was she talking about dogs or men? I’m sure I flushed.

“I’m here about…”

“I do not know who is discrediting Skye Barklay.”

“I didn’t expect you would,” I replied cautiously. She knew something. Truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure if Madame Orr was a gifted psychic or a charlatan. What I did know was that her intuition rivaled my own.

“I do know the answers will be found in the past. Buried behind a lie,” she announced.

I bit back a groan. Her ambiguity made me crazy. Jonathan running away with Skye would certainly qualify as a big lie. “That’s helpful.”

“Sorry. What I see is not always crystal clear.”

More like never clear and always cloaked in innuendo. “I’m here about…”

“Peter,” she finished for me. “He never came to see me.”

That made sense.

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