Free A Murder in Mohair by Anne Canadeo

Lucy suspected she was a starting work on a new order—which would not take long, considering the garment’s scant design.
    â€œIt’s not exactly what the psychic does. It’s what we do,” Dana noted. “We’ll be revealing information, usually without realizing it. And she’ll give it back to us, and make it sound as if she’s telling us something she shouldn’t really know.”
    â€œI get it . . . I think.” Phoebe turned to Lucy. “Do you?”
    â€œShe probably fishes around, tossing out scenarios that seem likely, and watches to see how you respond. Even a twitch of an eyebrow tells her something. Is that what you mean, Dana?” Lucy asked.
    â€œThat’s it. Exactly.” Dana nodded and started her knitting. “She’ll read our facial expressions, our body language, even our breathing or eye movements. She’ll also size up the way we’re each dressed and which of us is wearing a wedding ring, that sort of thing. Then she works with those clues and drops some bait to see how we react.”
    â€œSpeaking of bait, do we really have to wait until she leaves to eat dinner?” Suzanne had been digging steadily into the cheese and cracker platter. She’d skipped lunch again, Lucy guessed, and was ready to take a bite out of her knitting bag.
    â€œI’m afraid so. I only had time for takeout. Sorry. There’s some Chinese food in the kitchen, ready to go,” Maggie said.
    Suzanne sighed. “All right. I can make it. I just hope my stomach doesn’t start growling. She might think it’s angry spirits.”
    â€œDon’t even go there.” Phoebe was alarmed at the mere suggestion. A knock on the door quelled any more debate.
    â€œThat must be her, right on time.” Maggie rose from her seat. “You’d better put your knitting away. I’m sure she wants us to concentrate.”
    The knitting needles, along with the wineglasses and cracker crumbs, were quickly cleared by the time Maggie returned with Cassandra Waters.
    The psychic was dressed in the same long, flowing style that Lucy recalled from Sunday morning at the diner. But tonight’s outfit was made from an even sheerer, shimmery fabric, a deep bluish purple that made her eyes look lavender blue, too.
    A shawl, finely stitched with touches of mohair, was draped around her shoulders, like a lavender cloud, Lucy thought. Her dark hair and heavy eye makeup contrasted sharply with her pale white skin.
    She wore the big crystal pendant again and the heavy ring, on the middle finger of her left hand, along with a placid, almost ethereal expression.
    â€œI think you’ve met Suzanne, Dana, and Lucy,” Maggie said, making the introductions. “This is my assistant, Phoebe,” she added.
    â€œWell, thank you all for inviting me here, to read for you. I already feel good energy in this room,” Cassandra said, gazing around. “Have any of you worked with a psychic medium before?”
    â€œNo . . . none of us,” Lucy replied, answering for all of them.
    â€œCan you tell if there’s any bad energy in the shop? Any angry spirits?” Phoebe asked quickly. “You’re going to smoke them out with some sage and stuff, right?”
    Cassandra smiled and opened her large handbag. “I will burn some sage if you want me to, and I always light a sacred candle,” she added, setting a large candle in a heavy metal holder in the middle of the table. “I do feel good energy in this space. A lot of creative energy. Many people who otherwise have no outlet for their creativity and deepest expression of their soul come here and find that,” she said, glancing at Maggie. “This shop is almost . . . a sacred space.”
    Lucy could see Maggie trying hard not to beam with pride. But Lucy could tell she wasn’t buying it.
    â€œWe do hold classes here. The students seem very