Fight Fire with Foresight (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. Book 12) Read online

  “If his marriage didn’t fall apart until recently, that would make sense,” Dad says.

  “But Nathan and Tony have had problems from the start.” Wait. “Ten years ago, Nathan would have been seventeen. That was when he moved into the carriage house.” Is it possible Tony was happy to get Nathan out from under his roof, and that’s what brought on his attitude change?

  “You think there’s more to the stepson,” Mitchell says.

  Possibly a lot more. “Nathan has a lot of anger toward Tony.”

  “But if he killed him, that anger would be replaced with satisfaction,” Mitchell says.

  “Not necessarily,” Mom chimes in, surprising us all. “Nathan could be angry with himself for allowing Tony to control him and his mother for so long. He could be thinking he should have killed him years ago.”

  We all stare at her.

  “What? You think, after listening to you three talk through cases all the time, I haven’t picked up on a few things?”

  Actually, I was thinking Mom might be even more helpful than I thought with Marissa Trevino.

  About an hour later, Mitchell drives Jezebel and me home. Jez snores the entire way, and Mitchell actually carries her upstairs to my apartment.

  “It’s like she’s your baby.” I laugh as I open the door.

  “Cutest and sweetest baby ever,” Mitchell says, bringing Jez right into the bedroom.

  I’m still wired from this case, so I put on a pot of coffee. Knowing Mitchell, he’ll stick around for a while. I’ve come to the conclusion that he hates his condo. There’s really nothing wrong with it. He’s a typical guy, though. His décor is minimal, and the place barely looks lived in. Of course, that could be because he spends more time here than at home.

  He walks back out into the living room with his phone in hand. “I missed a call from O’Reilly. I must have accidentally silenced my ringer when I pocketed my phone. She didn’t leave a message, so I’m not sure why she called. I’m going to call her back.”

  I bring two mugs of coffee to the couch as he dials.

  “O’Reilly, what’s up? You didn’t leave a voice mail.” He puts the call on speaker so I can hear.

  “I’m afraid we’ve hit a small dead end in the case.”

  The case just started. We barely have any leads. What dead end could we have encountered?

  Mitchell likes when people get right to the point, and I can already see he’s getting impatient. “Facts, O’Reilly. Out with them already.”

  “There was no other DNA on the picnic blanket the body was wrapped in.”

  DNA.

  I stand up. “My senses are insisting on this, Mitchell.”

  He covers the phone with his hand. “Did they confirm it again now?”

  “How did you know?” I ask.

  “You have that ‘I’m arguing with myself’ look on your face. It’s cute. It makes your nose wrinkle.” He points, but when I cross my arms, he clears his throat and goes back to his phone conversation. “That’s impossible, O’Reilly. Piper is sure about this.”

  “I get it. We all expected there to be DNA on the blanket. It only makes sense since the killer transferred the body with it.”

  I can’t blame her for following the facts. Any police officer would. Any other than Mitchell, that is. He’ll always follow me.

  “O’Reilly, people make mistakes—”

  “I agree, sir. No one blames Piper. We were checking the blanket before she even suggested it. She wasn’t the only one who was wrong about this.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Mitchell rubs his forehead. “Listen carefully. Piper’s senses are never wrong. The lab missed something. Have them check again.”

  “Detective—”

  “O’Reilly, that’s an order.” He ends the call.

  “Mitchell.” Chief Johansen won’t be happy if he finds out Mitchell is treating the newest member of the force like a rookie. She’s a seasoned cop. I sit down next to him. “I have been wrong before.”

  “Only when it comes to interpretation.” He means I don’t always interpret my visions correctly, but the information I get from my senses is always true.

  “We both know what has to happen.”

  He turns his head to me and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I really hate when you have to read anything that was connected to a body at a crime scene.”

  I hate it, too. But if the lab can’t find the DNA attached to that blanket, it might mean only I can sense it. Tomorrow is already turning out to be a long day, and it hasn’t even begun yet.

  Chapter Seven

  Mitchell’s meeting Officer O’Reilly at the station this morning. I was supposed to go with him, but I told him I needed to check on a case at my office first. Really, Dad is checking on that. So yeah, I might have misled everyone. Everyone except Mom, who is with me at the outdoor café on the corner of Main Street.

  “I feel like I’m cheating on Marcia,” I say, sipping my coffee. “Although this coffee is nowhere near as good as hers.”

  Mom laughs. “I’m sure Marcia will understand, and besides, I’m pretty sure you make up for about half of her profits.”

  That might actually be true. Mitchell likes to joke that I picked that particular location for my office because it’s only twenty-three steps to Marcia’s Nook. I think on a subconscious level I might have.

  “So how do we get Marissa to meet me outside of the farm?” I ask. I don’t want Nathan to know I’m talking to his mother because I’m sure he’ll try to intervene. She’ll never open up about Nathan and Tony’s relationship if Nathan is around.

  “Well, let’s think. Her husband just died, so I’m assuming she’s handling arrangements for services.”

  “He’s being cremated once this case is over.” I hate how the victim’s families are forced to wait until we release the body to get closure. But then again, I’m not sure Marissa is upset at all at her husband’s death. There’s still a chance she had something to do with his murder. I mean he was divorcing her, after all, not to mention he had an affair. “What if she’s not having any services? Do you do that sort of thing for someone you’re divorcing?”

  “Well, that derails my plan to casually run into her at the florist when she orders flowers for the services.” Mom sips her coffee and cringes. “This really is terrible coffee.”

  Everything is terrible compared to Marcia’s coffee, so I try not to judge it too harshly. Besides, I need the caffeine if I don’t want a killer headache later.

  “What if you called Marissa and asked her to meet you here?” Mom suggests. “Be upfront. Tell her you’d like to talk to her in a neutral setting. Be sure to mention Mitchell and that new officer won’t be here.”

  “Do you really think she’d come? She must know she and her son are on our list of suspects.”

  “I’m sure she does know that, but I’d also think she’d want to know what you know. Or rather what you think you know. If she’s trying to protect her son, she’ll want to be aware of any case you might be making against him. She won’t want to be caught off guard.”

  I smile at her. “See. This is why I brought you.” I pull my phone from my purse and look up Marissa’s number, which I saved in my notes app. As I dial her number, I realize I do have an angle I can play to get Marissa to come meet me.

  “Hello?” she answers on the third ring.

  “Mrs. Trevino, this is Piper Ashwell, the psychic P.I.”

  Mom cocks her head, clearly surprised I’m using my abilities to my advantage like this.

  “Yes?”

  “I was hoping you’d be available to meet me for brunch at the corner café on Main Street.”

  “For what reason?”

  “Well, it’s about the vision I had yesterday concerning Eugene. I figured you wouldn’t want to have this conversation at the house where Nathan might overhear it.” She’s dead set against Nathan finding out she’s in contact with his father.

  “Oh.” She pauses, and then
I hear the soft click of a door closing. She must want privacy for this conversation. “Okay. Yes, sure. I can be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Great. I’ll order for us. Coffee and scones okay with you?”

  “Whatever you’d like. See you soon.” She hangs up.

  “Clever. You’re letting her assume you’re doing her a favor when really you’re setting her up.”

  I put my phone back in my purse. “I do plan to bring up Eugene, so it’s not a complete lie.”

  “I’ve taught you well.” Mom smiles before sipping more of her coffee and standing up. “I suppose I should go check out the antique store so it looks like I’m running into you by accident once Marissa arrives.”

  “Good thinking.” I flag down the waitress and order two coffees and two scones, one cranberry orange and the other blueberry since I’m not sure what Marissa likes. By the time the order arrives, Marissa is pulling into a parking spot right in front of my table. I wave her over.

  She sits down across from me. “I appreciate you meeting me here instead of at the house,” she says as if this meeting was her idea and not mine.

  “Of course. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you and Nathan. You’re both going through enough as it is right now.”

  She sits down and immediately sips the coffee in front of her. “It’s still odd. I keep thinking I’m going to see Tony at the house.”

  “Mrs. Trevino, in my vision, Eugene seemed very protective of you, which struck me as a bit odd considering you two have only been in touch again for a short time.”

  “I know. I thought so, too. But I’m assuming he realizes the mistake he made all those years ago and is trying to make up for it.”

  “I can understand that. He loved you back then, and I’m sure he wants to get to know his son.”

  “I’m not sure how likely that will be to happen.” She stares into her coffee. “Nathan has never had a father figure he’s been close to.”

  “He and Tony had a very strained relationship.”

  “It’s no one’s fault really. Nathan grew up not trusting men. I can’t blame him after Eugene left. And then Tony came along, and while he provided for us, he was never really the caring father I suspect Nathan needed.”

  “Why do you suppose that is?” I ask, picking up the tray of scones and handing it to her so she can select the one she wants.

  “Thank you.” She takes the blueberry one, and I place the cranberry orange one on my plate. “Tony was big on responsibility, not frivolity. When he found out Nathan only cared about playing basketball, Tony feared he’d grow up not knowing what was really important in life. So he tried to put an end to it.”

  Putting an end to a nine-year-old boy’s dream sounds like cruel and unusual punishment to me. “I can relate to how Nathan must have felt.”

  “You can?” Marissa asks, breaking off a piece of scone.

  “Yes, my psychic abilities surfaced when I was only twelve.”

  “Piper?” Mom says, walking up to the table.

  “Mom, what are you doing here?” I ask, feigning surprise as I look up at her.

  She has a bag in her hand to really sell the “running errands” angle. I swear she thinks of everything. “I finally found the perfect trinket for the fireplace mantel.” She lifts the bag slightly and then looks at Marissa. “I’m so sorry if I’m intruding. I’m Bonnie Ashwell, Piper’s mother.”

  “Marissa Trevino.”

  “Trevino? I know that name.” Mom pauses and looks up, as if searching her memory. “Any relation to Tony Trevino? He did some electrical work for me a few years back.”

  “Yes, Tony is—was my husband.”

  Mom’s hand raises to her mouth. “Oh, dear. I’ve upset you somehow.”

  “Mom, Mrs. Trevino’s husband passed away two days ago. That’s the case I’m helping the WPD with right now.”

  “Oh, well then I should let you two talk.”

  “Thank you,” Marissa says.

  Mom shakes her head. “You know, I hate that you got involved in this kind of work when you were only a child, Piper, but seeing the way you help people now, I couldn’t be more proud of you. I just…” She sucks her lips into her mouth and closes her eyes, as if fighting off tears. Wow. She really could have been an actress. “Sometimes I still feel angry at your father for forcing you to help him with that case. You were only twelve.”

  “You helped the police with a case when you were twelve?” Marissa asks me.

  Mom sits down. “I should have forbidden it, you know. I’m her mother. I never should have allowed it to happen, but my husband…” Her voice trails off, and there are actual tears in Mom’s eyes. I have no doubt she’s channeling the emotions she really felt at the time. “I’m sure you know what it’s like when you have to choose between your husband and child.” Mom looks at Marissa. “It’s an awful position to be in. I mean the police force is what paid our bills. And I didn’t want Piper to fear her abilities, but getting involved with criminals…” She lets out a deep breath.

  “I know what you mean. We try to do what’s best for our children, but it’s not always easy to know what that is.”

  Mom places her hand on Marissa’s. “Exactly. Parenting should come with an instruction manual.”

  “Mom, Marissa was just telling me that her son dreamed of being a basketball player when he was nine, but Mr. Trevino felt he should learn responsibility and work on the farm instead.”

  “Oh, that sounds familiar.” Mom wipes a tear from her eye. “Piper was your typical carefree child until she got wound up in that kidnapping case.”

  A flicker of recognition appears in Marissa’s eyes. “Do you mean the Belinda Maxwell case?” Most people have at least heard of the case. However, I’ve been long since forgotten, thankfully.

  “Yes, that’s the one. Can you imagine a twelve-year-old girl leading the police to that awful man?” Mom presses a hand to her chest. “It’s a wonder Piper has forgiven her father.”

  Marissa meets my gaze. “So you know what it’s like. You understand it was impossible for Nathan to see that Tony was trying to do what he felt was best for him.”

  I nod. “I can. And until recently, the effect of my childhood left me very jaded and angry with the world.”

  A tear escapes from Marissa’s left eye. “That’s my Nathan. He says there’s no justice in this world unless you make it yourself.”

  Does she realize she just made her son look very guilty? “You both gave up a lot for Tony, didn’t you?” I ask. “And then he had an affair.”

  “Oh, you poor woman,” Mom says, taking Marissa’s hand between both of hers. “And your poor son. I know I shouldn’t say this, but I wouldn’t blame your son if he did take the law into his own hands. People can’t run around hurting people and expect it not to take a toll. It’s not right.”

  “Ms. Ashwell, be honest with me. Is my son the prime suspect in this case?”

  “I can’t say for sure. There’s still a lot to consider. But you were closest to Tony. Who do you think would want him dead?”

  “A lot of people. Me. Nathan. Eugene. The husband of the woman Tony was having the affair with.”

  “You know who he was having an affair with?” I ask.

  “No, but I overheard a phone conversation one day. Tony asked when her husband would be home, so I know she’s married.”

  And if Marissa knew about that affair, there’s a good chance the woman’s husband did as well.

  “I guess we can rule out the woman he was having the affair with,” Mom says. “If she was upfront about being married, I’m assuming Tony was as well.”

  Marissa shrugs. “I’m not sure, but he was going to divorce me, so it’s not like we were happily married or anything.”

  I don’t think any happily married man would have an affair in the first place.

  “What was it you wanted to discuss about Eugene?” Marissa asks me, glancing at her watch. “I really shouldn’t be gone for too long, or
Nathan will start asking questions.”

  “Oh, right. I guess we got a little sidetracked.” I have no question to ask, so I scramble to come up with something. “Eugene was aware of your husband’s schedule, correct?”

  “Yes.” She gives me a quizzical look, most likely because we’ve already been over this.

  “What about Nathan’s schedule? Is it possible Eugene put that note on Nathan’s door to stop him from going to the barn that morning?” Not to toot my own horn, but that was some quick thinking on my part. Thank you, two cups of coffee, for fueling my brain this morning.

  Marissa’s jaw drops. “I suppose that is possible. Eugene asked a lot of questions about Nathan. He knew what time he got up and the things he did around the farm.”

  “Would Nathan recognize Tony’s handwriting well enough to know if he wrote the letter?” I ask.

  Marissa shakes her head. “Tony didn’t write much by hand. There’s not much need to working on a farm. I suppose he wrote up invoices and such for his electrical business, but Nathan didn’t have a part in that.”

  Then it actually could have been Eugene who put the note on the door. I wish I could tell if I concocted that idea out of thin air or if my senses clued me in on it, but it happened so quickly, and I wasn’t paying enough attention to how the idea got into my head.

  “Thank you for meeting me this morning, Mrs. Trevino. I assure you we’ll do everything we can to catch your husband’s killer as soon as possible.”

  She stands up. “Should I be worried people are going to assume I killed him?”

  Mom shakes her head. “I don’t see how anyone who has ever met you could possibly think that. I’ve only known you for a brief time, but even I can see you’re a very kind woman.”

  “Thank you,” Marissa says. She nods to both of us and heads back to her car.

  “So, how did I do?” Mom asks me once Marissa is gone.

  “You’re a pro. Seriously. If you ever want a job, I will always have a place for you at the agency.”

  Mom laughs. “While I admit that was fun, I think I’ll let you, Mitchell, and your father handle the police work.”