Entombed Read online

  When she was finished, she picked up the bowl and motioned for them to follow her.

  Marin let Iris pass, but put her hand on Jack’s arm to stop him as he followed. Bending her head close to his, she whispered, “From the scent, they’re fragrant herbs and wildflowers. Harmless, no magical properties.”

  “But you’re suspicious.”

  “Hell yes.” Marin watched as Iris ducked behind a curtain. “There’s something off about her.”

  Jack shrugged and followed, with Marin on his heels. They emerged in a small, plain room with a round table. Two chairs were placed near the table, with two more at the edge of the room.

  Iris lit a candle using a perfectly normal lighter—no chanting or spells, no magical fire—then settled the bowl on a stand and placed it over the candle. “It smells nice; that’s all. No magic, and certainly nothing that might harm you.”

  Either the acoustics were fantastic, she had excellent hearing, or she had some magic that his glasses hadn’t picked up.

  Jack pulled one of the chairs closer, and the three settled in around the table.

  “What do you remember about your meeting with Elliot?” Jack asked.

  “It wasn’t a meeting.” Iris raised an eyebrow. “Like you, he appeared in the shop and started to ask questions about Lila.” She clasped her hands together on the table. “He’s a nice man.”

  Why that observation bothered her, or why she’d come to that conclusion, Jack didn’t know. There was something just a little strange about Iris, but Jack still couldn’t put his finger on it. And he liked her, against his better judgment. “And what did you tell him?”

  “That I wouldn’t know anything, because I didn’t have that kind of relationship with Lila. We didn’t discuss the future.” Her face looked pinched, but only for the blink of an eye. “Fortune-teller is a misnomer. I don’t attempt to see into the future, because the future is largely unknowable. To believe in foresight is to minimize the importance of free will.”

  Marin leaned back in her chair, and when she spoke, her tone was as warm as it had been since they’d entered the shop. “You didn’t discuss travel plans?” When Iris shook her head, Marin said, “Nothing about a vacation she planned to take? Or a possible move in the near future?”

  Shaking her head again, Iris said, “I’m certain I don’t recall anything to do with travel.” She gave Marin a gently chiding look. “I don’t lie. There’s a karmic cost that I don’t want to pay. And, again, we didn’t discuss the future.”

  Marin’s blatant lie from only minutes before came to mind, and Jack bit back a grin. “What did you talk about in a typical session? If you can discuss it.”

  “Generally, my sessions focus on the client’s well-being. The state of their spiritual health.”

  “You don’t sound like…” Jack paused as he realized whatever he’d say might be offensive.

  Iris’s lips twitched. “A witch doctor? A fortune-teller?” She smiled. “I’m originally from the States, from Houston. I followed a friend here and stayed. I have a horticultural degree, which comes in handy, since I grow some of my own stock for the shop. The psychic counseling is intuitive. I share what I see and what I feel.”

  “So you’re not a fortune-teller at all,” Marin said. “What’s with the sign?”

  “Ah, the business was originally my friend’s until she retired a few years ago. She and her grandmother were both practitioners. The sign has been there for ages, so when I started to convert the shop, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I just kept it and retouched it.” A mischievous look crossed her face. “And I do stock the odd love potion. For anything else, I place an order with Abi, my retired friend. She’s from this area and grew up learning about traditional remedies from her grandmother.”

  “And love potions,” Jack said.

  Iris’s eyes twinkled, and she inclined her head.

  Marin cleared her throat, shooting Jack a look. “Tell us about the chanting and the dire predictions you gave Elliot. What do you know about Lila being cursed and lost?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you mean.” Iris clenched her clasped fingers. “I said that? That she was cursed? That she was lost?”

  “Yes,” Jack said, watching her closely. “That’s exactly what you told Elliot.”

  All the color had washed from Iris’s face. “No. That can’t be right.”

  “Iris,” Marin said. Her sharp tone chased away the glazed, fixed look in Iris’s eyes. “That particular wording has some special meaning to you?”

  Iris’s nod was so sharp that the curls on her head bounced. She swallowed. “Speaking in spiritual terms, for a soul to be lost, it has to be separated from the body.” She licked her lips. “Lila would have to be dead.”

  Chapter Five

  A loud, thudding knock came from the front of the shop.

  Iris closed her eyes. The pinched grooves of her face melted away, leaving a much calmer expression, and the color returned to her face. Composed once more, she got up and exited the room.

  As soon as she’d passed through the curtain separating the two rooms, Jack turned to Marin. “Any magic at all?”

  “None that I can detect, but…” Marin shook her head. “Hey, did you notice she kept speaking of Lila in the past tense?”

  “I did. I don’t think she knew she was doing it.”

  “Agreed.” Marin tapped the table with the tip of her nail. Suddenly, the sound stopped. “There’s something odd about her. I think she has a gift, one I haven’t seen up close and personal before.” Marin gave Jack a critical look. “For one, you haven’t uttered a single lie since we’ve come in the shop—worse, you’ve been very open.”

  “Yeah, about the dragon thing…” Jack winced. “I don’t know why I told her that.”

  “Exactly. There’s something very—” Marin groaned, and then, reluctantly and with some distaste, said, “Something very welcoming about her. And shut up, I know how corny that sounds.”

  Jack rubbed his jaw. “Do you think she knows there’s something different about her?”

  “I’m not sure. You know, you humans have hardly tapped the surface of your biology. Maybe there’s something different that has nothing to do with magic.”

  It was easier for Jack to assume that magic was at play. He didn’t understand magic, but it was a familiar unknown. “So whatever she’s doing to me, you think it’s intentional?”

  “I doubt it. How about you?”

  “No. Do you…” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his legs. “Do you like her? And I don’t mean positive-first-impression kind of like. I’m talking about something like a compulsion.”

  “Uh, no. That’s only you.”

  “Of course it is,” Jack said.

  “At least she doesn’t claim to read the future.” Marin pointed at him and said, “Speaking of, we need her to do one of her readings before we leave. Something strange happened during that reading she gave Elliot. Maybe that’s the key. Maybe her magic is only visible when she’s using it.”

  The bell on the front door jingled, and shortly afterward Iris appeared through the curtained doorway. “Apologies. I can’t afford to lose regular customers.”

  “We appreciate you taking the time to help us,” Jack said.

  “I’ll do whatever I can to help Lila.” Iris paused, and some of the stress from before returned to her face. “But if she’s truly dead, I don’t know what I could possibly do.”

  “Help us find justice for her,” Jack said.

  A small, quick nod was her response.

  Marin pulled her chair close to the table and assumed a businesslike demeanor. “But we’ll assume she’s alive until we can determine otherwise—so if you could possibly do one of your readings for us? Just in case it might be helpful.”

  “Yes, of course.” Iris blew out the candle that had warmed the oil. “I ask my clients to think of a question and to focus on that question. Who am I doing the reading for?” />
  Without hesitation, Marin said, “Me.”

  Good plan, since Jack had an unpredictable response to Iris.

  Iris turned all of her attention to Marin. After examining her for a moment, Iris blinked, rubbed her eyes, and said, “Looking at your aura is making my eyes hurt. Did you know you glow?”

  “Probably my magic. So you read auras. What else is involved with a reading?”

  Iris reached her hands out, palms up. “If you don’t mind…?”

  Marin shrugged and offered her hands. When Iris loosely clasped them, Marin’s demeanor shifted subtly. She didn’t speak, though, and Jack could only guess at what was running through her head.

  “As I said, I’m an intuitive psychic. I try to make a connection, get a feel for you in a general psychic sense, and then read your aura. That’s it, really. Do you have a question in mind?”

  “Same as before,” Marin said. “Where can we find Lila?”

  Iris nodded then closed her eyes. She took three slow, even breaths. When she opened her eyes, her gaze was unfocused. Even from across the table, Jack could see that her pupils were huge.

  Jack was curious to see how Iris tapping into Marin’s spiritual self would yield any new information. He waited…but a minute passed and neither woman said or did anything.

  The more he thought about it, the more confused he was. Iris claimed not to see the future, just read auras. How would Elliot’s aura reveal Lila’s death? And if this wasn’t all hokum, did that mean that Elliot was involved in Lila’s possible death?

  The room grew cooler.

  All of the comfort generated by Iris, the welcoming warmth she exuded, seeped away. And then the unease that had visited Jack intermittently since arriving in Belize returned.

  Marin stared hard at Iris, but she didn’t move her hands or try to break whatever connection Iris was forging.

  Iris’s lips moved, but her voice was altered. The words came out strangled and forced. “Stedman. Farm. Woman. Lila.”

  Marin leaned across the table. “She’s there, isn’t she?”

  “Farm.” Again Iris’s lips moved and the altered voice emerged.

  Marin held on to Iris’s hands as she tried to pull away. “Is she alive?”

  Iris tried to pull away again.

  Leaning forward, eyes narrowed, Marin said, “Who are you?”

  “Abi,” Iris said in that same strangled voice.

  “Is she alive?” Marin asked again.

  A keening wail emerged from Iris, and she yanked her hands free. She closed her eyes and hugged her arms tight around her body.

  “What the hell was that?” Jack inspected Iris’s pale face. The damp curls at her temples, her washed-out complexion, and her drooping shoulders all spoke to a level of exhaustion that was implausible in such a short period of time. No more than a minute or two could have passed since the reading had begun.

  Iris didn’t respond—didn’t even appear to hear him.

  Marin pushed her chair away from the table, but her gaze remained fixed on Iris. After several seconds, Marin said, “Go check on her. She should be safe enough.”

  Jack rounded the table but hesitated before reaching out. “Can I touch her?” When Marin said he could, he reached out and gently shook Iris’s shoulder. “Iris.”

  Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened. She startled when she saw Jack hovering inches away. “Why am I so cold?” She rubbed at the goosebumps on her arms.

  Jack didn’t have a clue why the temperature had dipped, and Marin wasn’t saying, so he stuck to the obvious. “The temperature in the room dropped.”

  Iris was still out of it, and just nodded as if that explained everything.

  “Can I get you a jacket? Or a sweater?” Jack asked.

  She shook her head numbly. “Just give me a minute.” She continued to rub her arms, and eventually a little color came back to her face. “Okay, what just happened?”

  Marin sighed. “Not magic. And you’re not a psychic—or, at least, that’s not all you are. You’re a medium.”

  Iris’s lips stretched wide into a poor replica of her earlier warm smiles. “No. I don’t see ghosts or talk to the other side.”

  “You were just possessed—briefly—by a spirit. The name Abi, does that sound familiar? Wait, didn’t you say that your friend’s name is Abi? Are you certain she’s well?” As a look of panic crossed Iris’s face, Marin slid her cell across the table. “Call her.”

  Hands shaking, Iris tapped on the phone, and a few seconds later gasped in relief. “Abi, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. I was worried. I thought…” Iris bit her lip. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted to check in.” She paused, listening. “Yes. Dinner tomorrow. I promise. Till then.”

  She ended the call and pushed the phone back across the table. “The name is Mayan. It’s not uncommon in the area. But are you sure? It’s just…how could I have contact with a ghost and not know it?”

  “You might or might not realize if you’d been in the presence of a ghost—but that’s moot,” Marin said. “This wasn’t contact; you were possessed. My guess is that possession takes some serious ghostly power.”

  Jack had limited experience with ghosts. One instance in particular had been more than a little unpleasant. On the other hand, he knew that his buddy Lizzie had a friendly ghost ancestor who liked to pop in and do the occasional good deed. “Any idea if we’re dealing with a friendly version?”

  “It would help if we knew who the ghost was,” Marin said. “You said the shop had been handed down through Abi’s family. Any chance your friend had the same name as her grandma?”

  “Maybe?” Iris rubbed her forehead. “Actually, yes. I’d forgotten, but Abi was named after her. It’s a common enough name. She said—I said—her name was Abi?”

  “You did.” Marin looked around the room. “The shop building’s been renovated, but the bones are old. Easily old enough to have been Grandma Abi’s. You mentioned your friend owned the shop before you. What about her grandmother?”

  “Maybe. Probably.” Iris frowned. “I’ll find out. Did I—or Abi—at least have anything useful to say?”

  “Maybe.” Jack’s phone rang. “It’s Elliot,” he said before picking it up. “Hello?”

  “They found her.”

  “Wait, what? Hang on, I’m, putting you on speaker.” He tapped speaker and set the phone on the table. “Both Marin and Iris are with me.”

  “It’s fine. I’m sure it will be in the papers tomorrow.” Elliot’s voice—dejected, defeated—filled the small room, even though he barely spoke above a whisper. “She’s dead, Jack. Lila’s dead. The police found her near one of my rental properties.”

  Jack pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t suppose it’s a farm.”

  “A small one. Some expats lease the land from me. They raise organic vegetables, have a few chickens. Just enough for a small stand at the market. Why does that matter?”

  “It might. We’ll touch base with you later and explain. We’ve got a lead I’d like to follow up on.”

  “Marin, here, Elliot. Jack’s assuming you want us to continue with the case, to find out who did this. But if you’d rather leave this to the police and give yourself time to—”

  “No. I’ll be in touch with her family about arrangements. And I’ll answer all the questions that the police have for me. But I want you both to do whatever it takes to find out who did this. She—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and said, “Whoever did this took her…they took her heart.” And he broke down.

  It left a sick feeling in Jack’s gut, thinking about the man they’d met early in the day—the affable, genuine, likable guy—dealing with the aftermath of the murder and mutilation of the woman he loved. Jack blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  “We’ll take care of it.” Jack didn’t even know if Elliot heard him, but it was important for him to say the words.

  He double-checked he’d ended t
he call then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Marin stared back at him with a grim glint in her eye.

  They both turned to Iris. That ghost had some kind of agenda, and their biggest clue was this woman.

  Iris swiped at the damp streaks on her face and said, “Whatever I can do.”

  “First, when did you start losing time?” Marin asked.

  “I don’t know, a few weeks ago? I really didn’t think it was a big deal. I’ve been a little out of it when I do readings. That just intensified over the last few weeks.” She gave Marin a worried look. “I don’t keep an official schedule book.”

  Marin pulled up the calendar on her phone. With the month view showing, she turned the phone around to Iris. “Think back. Were there specific client appointments where you can’t remember the entire session?”

  Iris ran her finger along the dates, working her way back from today. She came up with three names.

  Jack jotted them down as potential leads, then said, “We need to see your friend Abi. Get some history on the shop and her grandmother.”

  “Yes, of course. I really need a cup of sweet tea. I’m feeling a little shaky with everything that’s happened.” Iris gestured to a small door opposite the curtained entrance to the room. “My apartment is just in back. I’ll get some water started and call her again.”

  After Jack and Marin declined a cup, she exited through the door to her apartment.

  “What do you think?” Jack asked. “Deranged serial killer, or is there a magical connection? Because so far, I’m not seeing the magic angle. You said yourself that Iris isn’t using any kind of magic.”

  “Our ghost has some magical ties, I’m guessing. Otherwise, how’d she end up a ghost?” Marin leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I have a theory about why you’ve been so kindly disposed to the lovely Iris. I think it’s part and parcel with being a medium. I think the spirit possessing her was as attracted to her squishy, warm, cinnamon-bun personality as you have been.”

  He couldn’t argue with Marin’s description; it was spot on. And now he was inappropriately craving pastries.