The Moor (DCI Ryan Mysteries, #11)(52)

Charlie looked quickly in either direction but saw only shadows. He laughed, a bit nervously.

“You’re losing it,” he warned himself, and pulled his gloves back on.

There was work to be done, before the next show.

*

Leonie made her way back to the caravan she shared with her husband, wishing that she’d never insisted that she wanted to continue working. She was seven months pregnant with their first child and Marco was right; she had been pushing herself far too hard, lately. Add to that all the stress around them—Esme, the police—and it was small wonder she’d been feeling more tired than usual.

The crowds were building again, ahead of the evening show and fireworks display they put on afterwards, for the children.

She smiled and rubbed a hand across the hard ball beneath the cotton top she wore, wondering whether it would be a boy or a girl. If it was a boy, she hoped it looked like Marco, with his dark hair and olive skin. If it was a girl…

She looked up to find Sabina’s tent on the left.

Psychic Sabina.

It was silly, really. It was well-known that Sabina used simple techniques, like reading someone’s body language, to come up with her so-called psychic readings. They had even laughed about it, after a drink or two.

All the same, she was superstitious. She’d held off buying too many things for the baby, just in case anything bad was to happen, but now it was getting so close perhaps she could afford to get a little excited.

There didn’t seem to be a queue outside the tent, so she dipped beneath its folds and into the darkened interior.

“Sabina?”

The room was lit up by strings of fairy lights and what appeared to be stars against the night sky, which was actually a special material inlaid with LED lights that had been draped over each inner wall of the tent. Framed studio portraits of Sabina stood on rickety side tables and, in the centre, a large, battery-powered crystal ball sat on a round table covered in a scarred velvet tablecloth.

An empty chair stood on one side, whilst Sabina was seated on a gold-painted throne on the other, dressed in an elaborate outfit of floating skirts with a tight, corseted top.

“Leonie?” she said, looking up from her smartphone where she’d been playing Candy Crush. “Is Charlie asking for me?”

“No, I haven’t seen him,” she replied. “I just thought I’d pop in for a minute. If you’re not busy, maybe you could read my cards.”

Sabina’s red lips curved into a smile.

“You know it’s all bollocks,” she said, in a stage whisper. “I won’t really be able to tell you anything.”

“I know, I know,” Leonie laughed, settling into the spare seat. “And I’ve only got ten minutes before I need to dash back. But let’s have a giggle, anyway.”

Sabina shrugged and flipped a black lace veil over her face, so that only her pale skin, kohl-rimmed eyes and red lips were visible. She dipped her hands in some white talcum powder and tapped them together, to prevent friction on the crystal ball.

“If you’re ready, we shall begin,” she said, in a dramatic voice, which made her friend laugh.

Sabina lifted her veil to cast her a stern look.

“You have to take this seriously,” she warned. “Or I’m not doing it.”

“Fine. Sorry,” Leonie said, folding her lips. “Please, continue.”

Sabina reached for an ivory box which held a stack of cards, each with different pictures.

“You look like Solitaire, from that old Bond movie. You know, the one with Roger Moore—”

“Shh,” Sabina said, and handed her the cards. “Shuffle them yourself.”

They’d done this a few times before, so Leonie began to work the cards through her fingers, while they chatted.

“Had any funny ones, today?”

Sabina rolled her eyes.

“How am I supposed to concentrate, when you keep distracting me?” she complained, then leaned forward to gossip. “I had one woman come in earlier with a smoker’s cough. I told her she was going to die from cancer by the time she was fifty.”

“What?” Leonie said. “You can’t go around telling people things like that!”

“It’s probably true,” Sabina sniffed. “She should stop chain smoking and stick to one or two a day, like me. That way, she’ll avoid getting a mouth like a cat’s arse, too.”

Not for the first time, Leonie found herself wondering why they were friends.

Too much water under the bridge, she thought. Too much investment to back away, now.

“Okay,” she said, handing the cards back. “Do you think that’s long enough for the cards to have taken on my essence?”

Sabina shot her a warning look, and settled back in her ‘throne’.

“Select three cards but do not turn them over,” she said, in her dramatic voice.

Leonie shuffled in her seat, then made her selections. She felt oddly nervous, and put it down to Sabina’s flair for the dramatic.

“There you go.”

Sabina let her long fingers hover above the cards while she sucked in three deep breaths, letting the air out slowly.

“The energy is strong—”

Leonie snorted, then held up a hand of apology.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Sorry.”