Free The Fame Equation by Lisa Wysocky Page A

Keith, and Agnes had called three times. I called Agnes back first, knowing that she’d call three more times within the next half hour if I didn’t.
    “Cat, darling!” Agnes effervesced. “How are you? Lars and I had such a fabulous time at Keith’s concert last night, and then we wake up to this torturous news. Torturous! And Melody was your friend! I am so sorry, my dearest, dearest Cat.”
    I loved Agnes, but maybe not so much this early in the morning. A little of Agnes went a long way, and I wondered how Lars could stay focused around her. Lars was Agnes’s tall, young, dark and very fit, assistant and driver. Some time ago several state troopers in Kentucky had appealed to a certain judge to take Agnes’s drivers license away. The judge readily complied. Now Lars was a fixture in Agnes’s life and was a (somewhat) steadying influence. Although at seventy, I had a feeling that Agnes was who she was, and not much about her could be steadied.
    “I still can’t believe that Melody is gone,” I said, sitting on my bed. “I hadn’t known her that long, but it was as if we were long lost sisters . . . Agnes, I don’t know what to do.”
    “Now, now, dear. You go on being wonderful you! That’s what she would want, isn’t it?”
    Agnes was right. Melody would not want sadness. She would want her friends to celebrate her life. Still, it was hard to lose someone I cared so much about.
    “I have an idea!” Agnes’s voice sang through the phone. I’d almost forgotten she was there. “Maybe we can stage a séance. Sally can lead it. Or . . . too many people there at once might confuse Sally. Maybe just a private reading. I bet my big, beautiful Sally Blue can get in touch with Melody on the other side. Hmmm. I wonder if horses can be taught to deal tarot cards. Cat dear? Do you think you can teach Sally to shuffle a deck of cards?”
    “Maybe scatter them by blowing on them hard,” I replied. Then I caught myself. Was I really having this conversation? I smiled in spite of myself. Maybe Agnes was having me on.
    “Agnes, you’ve really cheered me up. Thanks so much . . . Agnes? Are you still there?”
    “Oh yes, dear. I had you on mute, as I was asking Lars to order Sally a deck of tarot cards. Large print I think, don’t you?”
    Okay. Maybe Agnes wasn’t having me on. What in the world was I going to do with a deck of large print tarot cards?
    After we hung up I spoke with Davis, who had news that he delivered without much emotion. “You’ll hear about it soon,” he said, “but it does look as if Melody was murdered.”
    The news hit me like a punch to the stomach. “Murdered?” That was the only word I could manage.
    “We don’t know who yet,” he said, “or the where, or the why, or exactly when. The how looks like she drowned, but there are marks on her neck that suggest she was held under water.”
    “She was the nicest, sweetest person anyone could ever know.” I felt my Irish temper building up and made an effort to dampen it back down. I have a teensy anger management issue that sometimes gets the best of me. “Who,” I asked after a calming breath, “would want to kill her?”
    “I don’t know. I just don’t know.” He sounded both distant and distracted.
    My phone dinged and I read a text from Buffy that said there was going to be a press conference soon, in front of the Cheatham County Courthouse. Did I want to go? Yes, but I was too much on edge and didn’t trust myself not to make a scene. I felt like throwing up. But I didn’t. Instead, I ended the call with Davis, focused my anger, and started to plan.
    Cat’s Horse Tip #6
    “Horses spend from four to fifteen hours a day in standing rest, and from a few minutes to several hours lying down. Horses only need about two and a half hours of sleep each day, most of which happens in short intervals of about fifteen minutes.”

8
    B EFORE I DID ANYTHING I needed to take care of some horse business, so I called my dear