Dreyfus looked up from her phone. “Was there an extra card at the scene? Like a tarot card maybe?”
Ward stared at her. “It’s weird you mention it. Yes. There was a tarot card. It was in Mateo’s pocket.”
“What was the card?” Jason asked.
“The Magician.”
Chapter Seventeen
At three, Sam phoned to say his flight had been delayed and he would not be arriving until around eleven that evening. For the first time ever, Jason was relieved to hear Sam would be late, relieved that he would have more time to put off the inevitable confrontation.
Dreyfus had been frankly disappointed when Jason had instructed Detective Ward to contact Routt Sheriff’s Office to tell them about the tarot card found at the Santos suicide, and then he’d shepherded Dreyfus out. He tried not to notice, but she was still brooding about it when they finally stopped for a very late lunch.
“It’s not our case,” he reminded her over tacos at Guadalajara Mexican Restaurant.
“We’re the ones who made the connection of the tarot cards.”
“Yes. But in fairness, that’s because there are two different law-enforcement agencies in two different jurisdictions, handling what appeared to be two different crimes.”
“Which turned out to be connected.”
“Maybe.”
She gave him a chiding look. “West, do you really believe the Santos supposed suicide and the Khan murder aren’t connected?”
No. He did not believe that. Not for one minute. He said, “I’m reserving judgment,” and reached for a tortilla chip.
She scowled. “No, you’re not. You just don’t want to get involved.”
Not true. Well, partly true. He needed to keep a low profile, for sure. He had already stretched way, way beyond the boundaries of merely consulting on this case. He was actively pursuing the theft of the Khan collection with Dreyfus, and Sam would not be happy to hear it.
But then Sam would probably not be happy to hear anything Jason had to say that evening. He dipped another tortilla chip in salsa and morosely crunched away.
“You got me thinking,” Dreyfus said. “I googled the meaning of The Hanged Man when the card is reversed.” She held up her phone and read softly, “‘In a reading, The Hanged Man reversed serves as a warning. Opportunities have been lost or wasted. The inability to change will lead to downfall. Egotism and selfishness will lead the seeker in a dangerous direction.’”
“We have no idea which way the card was intended to be read.” She opened her mouth to argue, and Jason added, “Also, that’s a very generic reading. You could probably apply that warning to anyone.”
“It sure sounds like Michael Khan to me. Okay, well, listen to the reading for The Magician.” Dreyfus scrolled with her thumb. She quoted, “‘With the power of the elements and all suits at his disposal, The Magician takes the potential innate in The Fool and manifests it into being with the power of desire. The Magician provides the bridge between heaven and earth, for he understands the meaning behind the words ‘as above so below.’ Create the inner world and the outer world will follow.’”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Dreyfus smiled. “I bet Sam Kennedy does.”
Come to think of it, he could really use a margarita right about now. Jason said, “I bet Sam Kennedy would have a word or two about us sitting here reading tarot-card interpretations when we’re supposed to be tracking down a missing art collection.”
Dreyfus made a pouty face and dropped her phone in her purse. “Fine. No guts, no glory.”
He grinned at her. After a moment, she reluctantly grinned back.
While Jason was working, it was easy—well, possible—to push aside all—okay, most—thoughts of Sam and the confrontation—no, conversation—they would have to have that evening.
Having had time to reflect, he could see that his own reaction to the discovery of what Sam was really working on had been emotional and perhaps extreme. He realized that Sam was correct, and that his own recent brush with violence was bothering him more than he wanted to admit. His desire to put the attack behind him and move on, to get “back to normal,” was typical of people dealing with trauma, typical of people trying to avoid dealing head-on with fear and loss. The loss of his sense of safety, his certainty that he could take care of himself in any situation. The fear that he might be attacked again.
He knew that Sam’s history, and particularly Ethan’s tragic fate, had to color Sam’s reactions in circumstances like these. How could it be otherwise? Jason had only to remember the ferocious scrawls on that whiteboard to understand that in his own taciturn and imperious way, Sam was freaked out too. Losing one boyfriend to murder was bad. Having a second imperiled boyfriend probably felt like he was being careless—or cursed.
Jason also knew Sam was unused to being questioned, second-guessed, or having to account for his decisions to anyone, let alone someone he clearly regarded as the junior partner in a relationship.
Theirs was not a relationship of equals; that was painfully obvious—and kind of a deal breaker. More than anything, he wanted to believe that they would talk everything through like reasonable, rational adults and reach some sort of agreement on boundaries and autonomy, but the conversation the other night hadn’t gone well. He had no reason to think tonight’s would go better.