Page 1 of A Touch of Murder
CHAPTER ONE
Adam smiled at the older woman who stood before him. "You understand I might not be able to see anything?" He didn't take the leather glove she held out to him. He'd learned a long time ago to have someone sign the simple contract before even reaching for an item that someone wanted him to read.
"But you might." The woman sounded desperate. She appeared to be in her mid-to-late fifties with graying brown hair and worry lines around her eyes.
"I might." He reached for one of the clipboards he kept on a small desk. "Before I do anything, I need you to read and sign this. It simply states that payment is non-refundable no matter what I see or how much you agree or disagree with my findings." He handed her the clipboard as the front door to his shop opened and two police officers walked in. Adam smiled at the two. "I'll be with you in just a moment."
Of all days for his assistant, Jacey, to take a personal day. He'd been busy. Jacey usually handled the paperwork and initial interviews, so Adam didn't have to deal with customers until they'd already agreed to everything.
"Of course." The woman took the clipboard, unlatched the pen from the top and signed without even reading. "I just know this man is going to hurt my daughter. She won't believe me that he's trouble." She handed the clipboard and the pen back to Adam, then handed him a fifty-dollar bill. "This covers the fee, right?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Adam put the clipboard back on the desk and pocketed the money. "We can step back into my office for privacy. This won't take long." Adam glanced at the police officers that stood near the door. "Five minutes."
One of the officers stepped forward. "Actually, if neither of you mind, I'd like to watch you work. Hear what your conclusion is."
The officer was tall—at least a few inches taller than Adam's six-two. The name Whitestone was stitched on the left side of his shirt. He had thick brown hair and matching eyes. The uniform fit him perfectly, showing off tight muscles. Compared to his partner, who had to be ten years older and probably fifty pounds heavier, this officer was a pleasure Adam didn't mind admiring. "I don't mind, but that would be completely up to Mrs. Anderson. I promise my clients complete privacy if they desire it."
Mrs. Anderson waved her hand. "I don't mind. In fact, maybe it's good for the police to hear how bad Howie is. I can just see it in his eyes. I don't know how my daughter misses it. She claims to be in love with him, but I don't think this man knows the word love."
Adam nodded. As much as he hated an audience—it always made him feel as if he were performing—he couldn't refuse such a simple request. "Okay." Adam pulled off the satin glove he wore when not reading an item and looked toward the leather glove that Mrs. Anderson had brought him to read. "Just a quick reminder of how this works. I'll hold the item for a minute and during that time I will get visions. I never know what those visions will be. It could be of the person who owns the item or something as simple as a place the item has been. I'll tell you everything I see, but I won't always be able to explain what I see or what it means in a way that will make sense to you. I'm not responsible if what I see doesn't match with what you want to hear." This was all covered in the contract all customers had to sign, but he felt the need to say it out loud since he'd watched her sign and not read his contract. Besides, this would also give theofficers a knowledge of how he worked. He didn't want to even start guessing what had brought them to his door today.
"Yes, that's fine." She offered him the leather glove. "This is Howie's glove. He left it at my daughter's last night. I took it when I went to visit her this morning."
Adam took a deep breath, preparing himself for anything. He knew he could see something as simple as a handshake, or something as violent as the glove tightening around someone's neck. He never knew with any object what he would get. He reached out with his bare hand and took the glove, closing his eyes as images started to come to him. He gripped the desk he stood beside with his other hand. The images came fast and hard. First, the glove around a steering wheel. Next, he saw the gloved hand holding a glass of dark liquid, whisky, maybe. Then he saw the glove come at him, fisted as it flew toward his face. He forced himself to stay still. The blow wouldn't come, but the urge to flinch away from it was real. Next, he saw blood on the glove, just a streak across the knuckles. He wanted to let go, but this is what he got paid for. He'd never backed away from a viewing, and he'd seen much worse than this over the years.
"Are you seeing things?" Mrs. Anderson asked.
Adam didn't answer. He needed to know more. He sensed the anger and rage from whoever wore the glove. The feelings consumed him, and he had to push them back, reminding himself they weren't his feelings. The next image came at him. He saw the glove around a woman's arm, squeezing tightly, then fisted again for another punch. The anger and rage grew as he held the glove. He saw a man's hand pull the glove off and saw a wedding ring on the man's finger. Then the glove on the man's hand again, a gas nozzle, filling the tank of a dark colored truck. He forced himself to remember everything, looking for details to prove that what he saw was real. A ram's head. So, it was a Ram truck. Snow on the ground, the glove lying on top of thesnow, then on the man's hand again, this time wrapped around a woman's ponytail. Adam had seen enough. He opened his eyes and dropped the glove onto his desk before reaching for his own satin glove and putting it on.
"What did you see?" Mrs. Anderson asked.
"I think you're right to worry about your daughter with this man." Adam reached for his water bottle and took a long drink before meeting the woman's eyes and telling her what he'd seen. He held nothing back. This was what she'd come here for. What she'd paid him to do. She'd wanted answers, and he gave them to her. "I'm sorry. I know it's not what you want to hear."
"It's what I expected." The woman sighed. "Now I just have to find a way to get my daughter away from him."
"He's hurt others. I saw several women. The one he punched had blonde hair. The other was more auburn, the one he wrapped his hand around her ponytail. The arm I saw him holding in a death grip was maybe a darker skinned woman, perhaps Hispanic or of that coloring. I wouldn't be surprised if he's been arrested for fighting or domestic issues in the past, but that is just a guess. I didn't see that in my visions." Adam took another long drink, fighting off the wave of fatigue that he always felt after any reading.
"You saw correctly. He drives a big black Ram truck. I'm not sure about the wedding ring. I can't imagine my daughter would date him if he was wearing one." Mrs. Anderson stared at the leather glove on the desk.
"As I said, I can see any point in the life of an object. The images I saw could be twenty years ago if that's how old the glove is, or they could have happened yesterday. I have no way to know unless I see something in the vision that gives me an idea of the timeline."
"Do you know this man's full name, Ma'am?" the officer asked.
"Sure. It's Howie Steerson. His real name is Howard," Mrs. Anderson told him. "Do you know him?"
"No, but I'd like to run the name and see what comes up. I'd like to see if Howie does have a record like our magician here said, or if there is anything to confirm anything he saw." The officer wrote down the name, then handed it to his partner. "Will you go run this and see what you get back?"
"Sure thing." The older officer took the paper and headed back outside to the squad car that was parked in front of Adam's store.
Adam didn't react to the insult. He wasn't a magician. He was used to people thinking he was nothing more than a scam artist. He quit caring about what people thought of him a long time ago. His father had never believed he had a gift and teased him and ridiculed him for saying he did. He took a step to the side and sank down into his office chair. He'd eat something when everyone left, and the sugar would help him feel stronger again. He wasn't sure why the visions tired him or why sugar seemed to help him recover, but he stuck with what he knew worked.
"How do I convince my daughter she's in danger? She won't believe me if I tell her about this. She thinks I just don't like Howie, but I know. You don't get to my age and not know when someone has a devil inside them." Mrs. Anderson took the glove and shoved it in her purse.
"I wish I had answers for you. I can only tell you what I see, not how to react to it. Maybe these officers can help you." Adam took another long swig of water. If his assistant was here, he'd have already sent him into the back to recover and he'd be handling questions.
"Let us see what comes up under his name, then we can talk." The officer looked uncomfortable. It was clear he didn'twant to be there, and from the snide magician comment that he made, that he didn't believe in Adam's talents either.
Adam wondered what had brought them in today. Had a customer filed a complaint? Someone who hadn't gotten the visions they'd hoped for. It happened. It happened often, but Adam refused to tell someone what they wanted to hear. He always told them what he saw and sometimes felt. He wasn't worried. Even if someone was unhappy, they signed the contract that there were no refunds and they gave up all rights to fight the transaction.
