Free Black Opal by Catie Rhodes Page A

pieces.
    “Some.” Julienne nodded. “Other pieces pre-date Fayette’s residence.” She motioned me into the bedroom where the furniture should have had its own historical marker and strolled to a painting near the room’s center and gestured at it. “This is my grandmother, Fayette. I suspect my daughter told you she was a witch. She loves telling people that.”
    Julienne watched my face as I took in the painting. It portrayed Fayette as a young flapper with a bob. She posed with a small white dog. The artist had put almost human intelligence into the dog’s eyes. Fayette crossed her arms across her chest and held something in her hand. I leaned closer and saw the necklace, the same one I’d encountered twice already that day. The one still hanging around my neck. I reached up and removed it and held it out to Julienne.
    “Julienne, I don’t know how this necklace—”
    “Don’t worry about that. It’s no fault of yours.” She accepted the necklace and walked away from the painting and gestured for me to follow. “Fayette told me black opal has magical properties. Tons of folklore exists about the stone. Supposedly, it can do some amazing things.”
    A million questions raced through my mind. My connection with the spirit world came from my grandmother’s family. And she didn’t want to discuss it. Julienne spoke about this necklace and Fayette’s ability like both were just facts of life, nothing to be uncomfortable about. Julienne tilted her head as she watched me think.
    “Come. Let’s have this conversation in my dressing room.”
    We sat like proper ladies on stiff antique chairs. Julienne produced two bottled waters out of a carefully concealed mini refrigerator and made a great ceremony of emptying them into an etched crystal decanter and pouring us each a small glass. I sipped mine more out of nerves than thirst and studied Julienne’s blue eyes, so like Dean’s.
    “I’d first like to thank you for finding Shayne and giving my family this chance at closure. We can now bury her remains in our family cemetery.” She set her glass, fogged with condensation, on a matching coaster and leaned back in her chair. Her lips trembled, but she pulled herself straighter and took a deep breath. She smiled, but tears brimmed in her eyes. “This is hard. Harder than I thought it would be. About what Lisette said at supper…”
    “I’m not a kook. Really.” Desperation laced my words. I spent so much of life explaining this to people.
    “No. You’re not. Otherwise, Fayette’s necklace wouldn’t keep finding you.”
    “Madeleine mentioned her great-grandmother was a witch?”
    “Despite what she believes, my grandmother was not a witch.” Julienne laughed. “But she was different from regular people. She knew things without having to be told. She had a gift, was special, like you.”
    Special? Odd word to describe what I am. Another lump formed in my throat. This one from gratitude. She leaned forward and squeezed my forearm. We didn’t need words.
    “Now, I must ask you a favor, child.”
    I knew what was coming next, and Julienne didn’t surprise me.
    “I want you to use your gift to find my daughter’s murderer. Rick and I are not yet old, but we soon will be. I’d like to enjoy this last chapter of my life without this issue hanging over our heads.”
    I opened my mouth to tell her Dean had already asked the same thing. She held up her hand to stop my words.
    “Now, I’ve been Dean’s mother for nearly forty years, and I’d be a fool not to think he already set you on the same path. But I might have some information nobody else can give you.”
    I waited with bated breath to hear what she had to tell me. Maybe it would help. Whatever happened to Shayne haunted me more than her ghost ever could. I wanted to help this family find peace.
    “The night before Shayne died, I overheard her end of a telephone conversation. She said, ‘I won’t let you treat me like this.’ She said