Free Death in the Cards by Sharon Short Page A

three men began talking at the same time to Worthy, but no longer shouting, so I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
    â€œI’m taking Rebecca over to Chief Worthy,” I called to Owen.
    â€œI’ll keep watch here,” Owen said grimly.
    â€œCome on, Rebecca,” I said. “We have to go talk to the police.”
    I thought I’d have to help her up, but suddenly she stood up, shaking me from her so hard that I went from kneeling to landing on the ground with a hard thump. She wavered for a moment, as if she were light-headed, and then squared her shoulders and marched over to the men.
    It took her a second to get their attention. She turned and pointed past me to where Owen stood by Ginny’s body. Then Rebecca slumped into Hugh, who put his arms around her. They stayed in a tight embrace, swaying together under the light, as if stuck in a sad little dance.
    Chief Worthy said something into his hand radio, then unclipped a flashlight from his belt, turned on the light, and trotted up the gently sloped field toward me. Dru followed him. I frowned at that. Shouldn’t Dru stay back, with the Crowleys?
    Worthy stopped when he got to me. He wasn’t even huffing a little. He’s always been in fantastic shape. So annoying. He turned the flashlight on my face. His stamina isn’t the only annoying thing about him.
    I squinted. “Could you get that out of my eyes?”
    He lowered it a little. “Mrs. Crowley said the body is over here, but she wasn’t sure who it was.”
    â€œGinny Proffitt. One of the psychics from the psychic fair over at the Red Horse Motel this weekend,” I said, then gave a brief explanation of how Owen and I had come out of the maze through a break in the cornstalks to see what all the shouting was about, and then found Ginny’s body.
    â€œWho did you say you found?” Dru Purcell had finally caught up with Worthy and huffed out his question between gasping breaths. He was not in shape like Chief John Worthy. But he was still annoying.
    Worthy frowned at him. “This is a crime scene, Pastor Purcell. I want you back over by the light with the Crowleys.”
    I ignored Dru. “Do you want me to wait over there, too? I can direct the other officers over here—”
    â€œI was patrolling in the area and that’s why I got here first,” Worthy said, cutting me off. He was directing his comments solely to Dru. “When the other officers and the emergency crew get here, direct them over this way. And wait by the light pole. I’ll have questions for both you and—” he finally cut me a glance “—Ms. Toadfern.” He looked back at Dru. “Make sure she doesn’t stick her nose in where it shouldn’t be.”
    I turned and started walking quickly back down the slope to the light pole, Deputy Dru huffing along right behind me. God only knew what he’d do if I kept right on walking past the light pole and to my car to wait for Owen—which I was tempted to do. Probably grab me and shout, “Citizen’s arrest! Praise the Lord!!”
    Not a pleasant thought. So, I did as Chief Worthy had asked and stopped by the light pole. I leaned against the pole, stared at the few buggy critters flying around in the light. At least it wasn’t spring, when the bugs would have been swarming.
    â€œJosie?”
    I glared at Deputy Dru.
    He drew in a long, shuddery breath, his potbelly jiggling behind his suit jacket, which strained at the button. “Now I know, Josie, we’ve had our differences in the past—”
    I rolled my eyes. Having “differences” would mean, say, one person liking pork rinds and the other wanting tater tots. Our differences were more like, well, barbeque-flavored pork rinds versus salad with non-fat dressing. Or like heaven and hell. (And my own theology is that heaven will have pork rinds with all the flavor and none of the