Before She Dies (Alexandria Novels 3)

A background check would tell him what she was hiding. But he didn’t want to dig. He wanted her trust.

Grady, flanked by two young men, offered a wolfish grin. “Detective, I’d like you to meet Tiny and Buster.” Tiny was indeed Tiny and couldn’t have been more than five feet. He had long dark hair tied at the nape of his neck, wore a short-sleeved shirt that read Danger, torn faded jeans, and an endless flow of tattoos on his arms. Buster was taller but more muscular. He sported a blond crew cut, a swastika tattoo on his neck, and a buttoned-up long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into pressed jeans.

Tiny and Buster. What a pair.

Rokov reached in his pocket and pulled out his Department of Motor Vehicles picture of Diane Young. The color picture was taken several years ago. “Gentlemen, did either of you see this woman last week?”

Tiny and Buster looked at each other and then at Grady, who nodded his approval.

Buster took the picture and studied the picture closely. “I don’t remember her. We get so many people, she could have been here, and I just missed her.”

Tiny accepted the picture from Buster. “Pretty. Too bad about her. I wish I could say I saw her but I just don’t remember.”

Rokov took the picture back. “She was about five-foot-six, and her sister said she walked with a slight limp because she’d sprained her ankle a month ago.”

Grady, Buster, and Tiny shook their heads. If they’d seen Diane, he doubted they’d admit it. The carnies did not like any dealings with the cops even if it meant they could help.

“Want me to round up more men?” Grady said. “Can’t say you’ll get a different answer, but who knows, you might get lucky.”

“Go ahead and grab a few more men.”

“Could take a few minutes.”

“No rush. I’ll be at Sooner’s tent having a chat with her.”

“Why Sooner?” Grady’s tone turned defensive with a hint of menace.

“That a problem?”

“No.” Grady sniffed and waved away Tiny and Buster. “Just asking.”

“Then I’ll see you at her tent. And take your time.” Not lingering for a response, he moved through the crowds, kicking up dust along the way. When he reached her tent, she had a line of ten customers outside. He produced his badge and walked past the line into the tent.

The tent was dimly lit with electric lights that resembled candles. Sooner sat at a table draped in purple silk and before her sat a client—a young girl with blond hair and a cheerleader’s demeanor. Spread on the table were tarot cards arranged in the cardinal cross pattern. Oddly he recognized the cards. They were Russian and similar to the ones his grandmother kept tucked in the drawer by her bed.

Sooner looked up with expressive green eyes that were now heavily made up. The girl he’d seen at the courthouse had looked streetwise but young. This incarnation looked years beyond her age.

He held up his badge. “Sooner Tate?”

The sound of his voice had the cheerleader girl turning. Her face paled and her red lips parted into a surprised O.

Sooner couldn’t have been much older than the girl, but her world-weary expression suggested the experience of a much older woman. “Yes.”

“Ma’am,” Rokov said to the cheerleader. “If you will excuse us.”

The girl looked between Sooner and Rokov.

Sooner answered for her. “I have a few more minutes with my client. If you don’t mind.”

Young and ballsy. “Sure.”

When he didn’t move, she lifted a brow. “Do you mind stepping back? This is private.”

“Sure.”

He took a position in the back of the tent by the entrance. His hands clasped behind his back, he waited, not sure if he was amused or annoyed by the girl.

Sooner leaned toward the cheerleader and in hushed tones continued to whisper her reading. The cheerleader quickly forgot about him and leaned toward the cards as if they held the meaning of her life.

He watched Sooner, fascinated by the way she stroked the cards and turned each new one over with a dramatic flare. She waved her hands several times, making the bracelets on her arms clink with a dramatic effect. When she pronounced the reading done, the girl seemed satisfied and yet still hungry for more.

When the cheerleader asked for more information, Sooner shook her head and said, “Sadly our time is over and the cop in the corner has been patient enough.”

Cheerleader’s lips pouted but she rose, hugging her purse close. “Can I come back?”

Sooner rose. “Of course. I will be here for two more weeks. Come back anytime.”

“I will.” The girl hurried out of the tent.

Rokov moved toward Sooner. What was it about the girl that felt so familiar to him? He had an excellent memory for faces and names. They’d not met before, but still there was something.

He took the seat across from her, leaning back, relaxed as if he had all the time in the world and there was not a line outside. The heavy scent of incense hung around them, and he wondered if she ended up with a pounding headache by the end of the night.

“What can I do for you, detective?” she said. “Have you come for guidance from the stars in this latest murder investigation?”

“I’m not interested in your psychic talents but your powers of observation.” He pulled the DMV photo from his pocket. “Did you see her here?”

Sooner took the picture. She studied the picture, and a frown formed and deepened on her face. “This is the woman that was murdered.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen her.”

“You’ve seen her picture?”

“No, I’ve seen her.”

“Tell me it was not in a dream.”

“No. She was in this tent.” Her face paled a fraction.

“She was my first customer here. She said she wasn’t crazy about crowds.”

“You’ve not seen her picture before?”

“No.” She looked at him, her eyes full and bright. “Grady was the one that told the press I could find a killer. I never said that.”

He pulled a notebook from his breast pocket along with a pen. “When did you see her?”

“Last week. Early. Friday, I think. Opening night. She could read the cards and a couple of times challenged me. It was amusing at first and then it got a little annoying.”

“Why?”

“I’m here to do a job. She was here to see how I handled my readings. Basically checking out and learning from the competition.”

“That so bad?”

She shrugged with a casual elegance generally reserved for an older, more sophisticated woman. “How would you like it if another detective followed you around all the time and second-guessed you?”

“Point taken. So how long did she stay?”

“She paid for thirty minutes in cash. She stayed the entire time.”

“What kind of reading did you give her?”

“Basic tarot reading.”

“Do you remember her fortune?”

“I think I gave her the standard line of success on the horizon and foreign travel. But nothing stands out in my mind.”

“And when you finished the reading, she left the carnival?”

“I don’t know if she left. I was in the tent.”

“You didn’t see her talking to anyone?”

Amusement danced in her eyes. “Despite the advertisements, I don’t see beyond the walls of this tent, detective.”

“You’ve no special powers.”

She chuckled and glanced toward the tent opening to see if anyone was listening. “None.”

He rose. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Tate. How much longer will you be in town?”

“The carnival is here for ten more days.”

“What about you?”

She’d been relaxed and confident up until this moment, but a rising tension froze the warmth from her body. “I plan to leave with the carnival.”