Page 73 of The Bride Wore White

“Nope. But don’t worry. After all, it’s clear now that you were right.”

He frowned. “I was?”

“Obviously I had a panic attack while attempting to be a proper wife to a man I sensed I shouldn’t have married. I developed a phobia about sex. I convinced myself it had something to do with my psychic sensitivity. Last night made it clear that I don’t have a nervous disorder after all, at least not when it comes to normal sexual exercise.”

“Sexual exercise,” he repeated a little too evenly.

“Exactly.”

The phone rang. Jack shot to his feet, clearly relieved by the interruption. “I’ll get it.”

She watched him move into the shadows of the living room, and then she lifted the silver lid that covered the platter of scrambled eggs. She was surprised to discover that she was quite hungry. She usually preferred a light breakfast. Not this morning. Evidently escaping a burning house and having panic-free sex with the most interesting man she had ever met had a marked effect on a woman’s appetite.

She was finishing another slice of toast when Jack returned. He no longer looked like a man who was trying to deal with an awkward morning-after conversation. Energy shivered in the atmosphere around him.

“Who was that?” she asked.

“Rollins Dover.” Jack reached for the coffeepot. “He and his wife would like to meet with us again. This morning.”

“He probably wants to apologize for what happened to your house last night and convince you not to sue or tell the press that his mother was a firebug.”

“Yes.” Jack poured some coffee and set the pot down. “We are not going to mention that we don’t think Clara was alone last night.”

“Why not?”

“The first rule in dealing with suspects is to make sure you don’t give them any more information than necessary to get them to talk.”

She dusted toast crumbs off her hands. “Got it. Speaking of collecting information, I should start making those phone calls to my old colleagues on the San Francisco psychic circuit.”

“We want any information on Maud Hollister that goes back to the start of her employment in the Dover household. There must have been a reason for her steadfast loyalty to Clara Dover.”

Chapter 34

Zorana? It’s Prudence Ryland. Madame Ariadne. Remember me?”

“Of course I remember you, dear,” Zorana said. “It’s so good to hear from you. I read all about your new career path in the papers. Congratulations on landing that private consulting job in Burning Cove. We’ve all been wondering what you’ve been doing since you left San Francisco.”

Zorana had a real name, but she had worked for so long as Zorana, Psychic Guide, that no one used it. Prudence gripped the telephone a little more tightly, aware of a twinge of homesickness. When she had disappeared from San Francisco, she had left longtime friends and a community of psychics—some real, some fake—behind.

“I’ve been busy,” Prudence said.

“Obviously.” Zorana chuckled. “How is business? Does the private consulting work pay better than a storefront operation?”

Prudence glanced across the living room. Jack was at the tablelaboring on his crime tree, but she knew he was listening to every word of her side of the conversation.

“Private consulting has a few drawbacks,” she said.

“I can imagine. You’re at the beck and call of the same client twenty-four hours a day. Sounds stressful. Is the money significantly better, though?”

“Sadly, there isn’t much in the way of actual income,” Prudence said. “At least not yet. But all expenses are covered, including wardrobe, travel, and lodging. And here I am in Burning Cove, playground of the stars. The private work is turning out to be more of a free vacation than a long-term career path, so I won’t be able to afford to do it for long.”

Jack looked up from his crime tree, frowning.

“I understand, dear,” Zorana said. “We must be practical about business. A woman on her own in the world needs to consider her future.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve got long-term plans. I’m going to open a bookshop. But in the meantime, I’ve run into an old client of my grandmother’s, Clara Dover, here in Burning Cove.”

“A rather difficult client,” Zorana said. “Years ago she was one of my regulars. Haven’t done a reading for her in over a decade.”

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