Spectacle(18)

“How would—” Nathalie stopped, interrupting her own question. How would that be possible? Of course. Follow the killer’s own cues. “A letter to the paper.”

“Or to the police directly.”

Nathalie chewed her lip. How involved did she want to get? Perhaps she was too quick to consider it “exciting.” Writing factual observations for Le Petit Journal was one thing; sending anonymous letters about what she saw was another. This would move her from on-the-scene interpreter to actor, a background figure on the stage. It was the difference between reviewing a theater piece and belonging to the show. Was she prepared to be part of the performance?

Then she asked herself if she was willing merely to stand on the other side of the viewing pane, like every other morgue visitor, despite having seen so much more.

So much to consider. So many unknowns.

“Even if what I’m seeing is real, that doesn’t mean it’s accurate,” Nathalie said, twisting her fingers around one another. “What if my mind is stepping in with a paintbrush and changing the scene around?”

“Or maybe your mind is a canvas for truth. Have you thought of that? Visions. Not hallucinations or fever dreams.” Simone tugged her braid. “The police will sort it out. I’ll bet they hear plenty of nonsense. You can’t be any more wrong than the people who purposely make up stories.”

“True,” said Nathalie. She still wished she had proof, and she didn’t have many details to offer. However, it was unlikely she could make anything worse by telling the police what she saw. Right?

“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Simone. She leapt up from the sofa and went over to her nightstand. She returned with a smile and a deck of cards.

Tarot cards.

Nathalie’s shoulders fell into a slump, which made Simone tilt her head like a puppy. (Simone was good at that.) “It’s almost half past eight. I told Maman I’d be home by nine.”

“Louis will be dropping off a book about astrology any minute now, so this will be fast, I promise,” Simone said, sitting next to Nathalie on the sofa. “You know I need the practice.”

Yes, Nathalie knew. Simone’s acquaintance with tarot card readings stemmed, like so much else, from her new life at Le Chat Noir and from Louis. One of the other showgirls did it on the side to entertain customers. Simone, having had a reading once from her, learned from the girl how to do readings of her own for her “favorites” at the club, as she called them.

Nathalie, hiding her reluctance, agreed. Simone giggled through a thank-you before growing serious. “Now. Single question or open reading?”

Simone had explained what this meant once before. Until the episodes at the morgue, Nathalie would have opted for a general reading. Not anymore. “Single question. What do these ‘visions’ mean?”

After shuffling the cards a few times, Simone asked Nathalie to cut and laid out three cards face down. “There are a few ways to do this, but I want to start with the simple version until I have more experience. This card is the past, this one is the present, and this represents the future. Ready?”

After a nod from Nathalie, Simone flipped over the card representing the past.

On it was a man in the center with two horses on each side.

“This is the Chariot,” she said. Her tone was thoughtful, focused. “It means that you’ve overcome adversity and that you display perseverance.”

“Starting off with compliments. Those tarot cards know how to flatter a girl, don’t they?”

Simone looked Nathalie in the eye, grinning. “See? That one was sensible enough. It could be referring to your mother’s accident and getting a job at the newspaper.”

“Could be,” Nathalie said, returning the smile. She didn’t want to say it, but in her view, that card could be interpreted to explain most anything. “Although it doesn’t seem connected to the question.”

“No, it does! Your job at the newspaper is the reason you go to the morgue every day, so it’s what led you to the visions.”

Nathalie couldn’t argue with that.

“Open your mind,” Simone said. Her demeanor was so charming that Nathalie had no doubt she’d impress her “favorites” with this game. “Now for the next card, the present.”

Simone flipped over a card with a moon on it. “The Moon means … confusion.”

Nathalie felt Simone’s gaze, but her own eyes didn’t lift from the card.

“If I wasn’t confused, I wouldn’t have a question to ask,” Nathalie said, sitting up straighter. “So I think this one is true for anyone who poses a question.”

“That could be. But the Moon also means dreams.”

Dreams while sleeping … or awake?

Much too strange.

Nathalie couldn’t dismiss that one quite as easily. “We needn’t do the third card.”

“Too late,” Simone said, turning over the card that addressed the future.

The card depicted a man hanging upside-down. His feet were crossed and hands were behind his back.

Simone grimaced. “The Hanged Man.”

“Hanged?” Nathalie said. “I guess it could be worse. It could be a guillotine.”

“It’s not what you think. It has to do with self-sacrifice, I think.” She bit her lip. “Yes, that’s it. And it involves changing how you think.”