Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery) by Baron Marilyn

Author:Baron, Marilyn [Baron, Marilyn]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Suspense, Contemporary
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc
Published: 2013-08-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Katherine and Jack were enjoying a fresh fried seafood lunch on the patio of the Casa Spirito Bed & Breakfast, at a table facing the ocean. It was a beautiful day. A warm breeze blew up from the water, while gulls swooped lazily and dragonflies dashed by against a cloudless sky. Several fishing trawlers moved slowly across the horizon. Dolphins surfaced and played on the smooth surface of the sea. A silver shadow crossed the water, an airliner taking off for unknown places. Katherine lifted her face toward the sun, closed her eyes, and smiled. Despite the task at hand, she was relaxed, perhaps for the first time in days. What a peaceful place this was. She felt at home here.

“Jack, what was that episode back at Psychic Juliette’s about?”

Jack chewed a bite of his grouper sandwich and wiped his mouth. “What episode?”

“I understand if you don’t believe in psychics, but your attitude and animosity toward her went way beyond hostile.”

Jack shrugged.

“Why don’t you tell me what you have against sensitives?”

Jack took another bite of his sandwich and picked up a few French fries. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

Katherine swallowed a spoonful of her She Crab soup. “I am interested. You’re being irrational, and I want to know why. A while ago, you mentioned something about your mother and a medium. I think there must be more to the story than you’ve told me.”

“Okay,” Jack began, slapping his napkin on the table. “I can see you’re not going to quit until you pry it out of me.”

“I’m not prying,” Katherine objected.

Jack tapped his forefinger repeatedly and began talking. “I’ve already told you part of the story. It was right after my dad was killed. My mother was devastated. There was nothing I could do to raise her spirits. But then she talked to a friend who suggested she call in a psychic. Can you believe that? My mother brought in this gypsy-looking woman, a so-called psychic, named Heddy Henrietta Grainger. She called herself Madame Hydrangea. For the next two years, she came to the house two or three times a week to ‘raise my father’s spirit.’ ”

Katherine put down her soup spoon. “Did that give your mother any comfort? You said they never contacted him, not even once?”

“You really think people can contact the departed?” Jack raised his voice and unbuttoned the collar of his polo shirt. “My father was dead. I saw him in the casket. There’s no way he was ever coming back. I knew that, but my mother was convinced she would see him again, could see him again, that their ‘love’ could survive and thrive beyond the grave. The only thing that thrived was Madame Hydrangea’s bank account. Besides what she was paid for those fruitless sessions, she recommended several bogus investment schemes, and she took my mother for almost everything she had, including my dad’s police pension, which was supposed to support us, and it was all for nothing.”

Katherine blew out a breath. “You were only ten years old, Jack.

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