Page 69 of It takes a Psychic

“If you don’t get that oversized rat out of here immediately, I will use my flamer,” she shouted.

“I’m working on it,” Leona said. “You’re overreacting, Ms. Harp.”

“I know everyone is saying you’re the bride but I don’t give a shit.”

“I am not anyone’s bride.” Leona’s voice was rising now.

Oliver arrived at the open door and found himself looking into a large kitchen filled with vintage appliances. Leona and Harp were confronting each other in front of the open door of what at first glance appeared to be an empty floor-to-ceiling closet. Harp gripped a large carving knife in one hand.

There were no shelves in the closet. No kitchen equipment. Nothing at all. The rumble of the motor and a faint, muffled chortle reverberated from somewhere inside.

“Is there a problem?” Oliver asked. Okay, stupid question—clearly there was a problem, but he had no idea what it was.

Leona swung around. “It’s not a big deal. I was just explaining to Ms. Harp that I will take care of the situation. It’s a matter of timing, you see.”

“Thereis the problem,” Harp announced. She aimed the carving knife at the closet.

The top of Roxy’s ears came into view first, followed by the rest of her fluffy frame. She rose majestically upward on the platform of a dumbwaiter. She was chortling madly, evidently overcome with excitement.

When the device reached waist level it kept rising, heading for the floor above.

Leona made her move. She reached into the shaft with both hands and swept Roxy off the platform. The dumbwaiter continued upward.

Roxy chortled deliriously.

“It was just a game as far as she was concerned,” Leona said, tucking Roxy into the crook of her arm. “She didn’t cause any harm.”

“If that dust bunny shows up here again, I’ll use the flamer,” Harp warned.

Leona was looking seriously dangerous now. Oliver stepped in quickly.

“Mr. Thacker and I came to an agreement,” he said. “He confirmed that I am to give the money to you, Ms. Harp.”

“What?” Distracted, Harp turned swiftly toward him. “Oh, it’s you. Cash only.”

“Right.” He opened the messenger bag and took out the envelope that contained the money. “Feel free to count it. You’ll find it’s all there.”

Harp snatched the envelope out of his hand, extracted the bundle of bills, and counted the money with impressive efficiency. It was not, he thought, the first time she had handled large amounts of cash.

When she was finished, she snorted. “The document is yours.”

“I’d like a receipt,” he said.

“I don’t give receipts.”

“Somehow that does not come as a surprise. How much are you skimming off the top of these sales?”

“Take the dust bunny and get out of here,” Harp snarled.

“Don’t worry,” Leona said, “we’re on our way.”

With Roxy clutched close, she marched out of the kitchen. Oliver followed.

Neither of them said a word until they were in the Slider. Roxy wriggled out of Leona’s arms and took up her favorite position on the back of the seat.

“I really do not like this town,” Leona announced.

He put the car in gear and drove back toward the main road. “Can’t say it’s on my list of top ten vacation destinations.”

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