Theresa Weir - Bad Karma

“You don’t have to believe. She’s going to do all the work. I want her to pick up any vibes you might be giving off.”

“Like a human lie detector.”

“You could say that.”

“You’re pissing off the whole damn town,” he told Jo. “You know that, don’t you?”

“That’s your opinion. Cleo?” She motioned for Cleo to step closer. “Stand in his aura.” She sniffed and made an arrogant face. “If he even has one.”

Take the money and run.

Cleo stepped closer.

Harvey wasn’t an especially tall man. Not much taller than Cleo, which would put him at about five-eleven. His eyes were very brown.

Jo put a hand to Cleo’s shoulder and shoved. Cleo took a stumbling step, and she and Harvey stood nose to chin. “Um, okay.” Cleo closed her eyes and counted to twenty. When the time was up, she opened her eyes and stepped back.

“Well?” Jo asked in a repeat of their earlier performance. “Get anything?”

“I don’t know,” Cleo said, putting a limp hand to her forehead. “I’m suddenly feeling very tired.”

“I’ve heard that can happen. That clairvoyance takes a lot out of a person.”

“I’m going to have to rest and absorb the information.”

“I understand.” Jo gave Harvey a final glare, took Cleo by the arm, and led her gently from the fire station.

Cleo looked back to see Harvey shake his head and return to his polishing.

They were crossing the road, heading back to the police station, when someone in a blue sport utility vehicle honked and waved, the vehicle swinging into a parking space in front of the courthouse.

“There’s Dr. Campbell.”

“ Burton Campbell?”

“You met him?”

“I saw his signs.”

“ Burton ’s done a lot for this town. Got a good head on his shoulders.” There was respect in Jo’s voice. It was the kind of likable awe reserved for those special few people who were just a little bit better than everybody else. It was the kind of reaction you saw in small towns. It was the kind of reaction Cleo’s mother had cultivated.

“He’ll want to meet you.” Jo flagged him down even though it was obvious he’d stopped to talk to them.

Dr. Campbell was dressed in an expensive-looking suit, his teeth bleached, his hair cut to perfection. He was a man selling himself with his Dale Carnegie handshake and his smooth, practiced greeting. Handsome and slick, he was the kind of guy Cleo avoided.

“Hello, Miss Tyler. Welcome to our little community of Egypt.” He held out his hand. Cleo had no choice but to take it.

His grip was just right, not too firm, not too limp, his fingertips like smooth, cool stones. And while he gave her arm a little pump, he looked directly into her eyes and smiled his winning smile, a smile that had poor Jo smitten even though he had to be twenty years her junior.

“ Burton is not only the mayor, he’s the best dentist in town,” Jo said, proud as punch.

The only dentist in town, Cleo recalled.

While praise for the good doctor rolled off Jo’s tongue, a black car cruised past. The vehicle was fairly new. Four doors, with Egypt Police Department stenciled on the driver’s side. At the wheel was Daniel Sinclair. He gave them a lazy wave, his bare arm and elbow hanging out the open window. There was a smile on his face-or was it a smirk?-as he took in their cozy little chatfest. Cleo gave him a feeble smile in return, wondering if he was thinking about the cavity thing.

Jo didn’t miss a beat. “Burt’s initiated so many new things in Egypt.” A few minutes earlier she hadn’t been able to stop talking about Daniel. Now she was waving to him as if he were a distraction. “He’s brought a new vitality to the town with his Revitalize Main Street project, the Downtown Business Organization, and the KKOD.”

The black car stopped at the intersection then moved on. “KKOD?” Cleo asked, trying to sound interested, but failing.

“Keep Kids Off Drugs. We hold meetings at the youth center where people bring the family and we talk to the kids and the parents about keeping kids busy so they won’t turn to drugs. Yep, Burton ’s brought a sense of pride back to Egypt.”

Dr. Burton Campbell was basking in her praise, smiling with an aw-shucks attitude. “I didn’t do it by myself,” he said. “Sometimes people just need to be pointed in the right direction.” He turned to Cleo. “So, are you free for lunch?”

His forwardness took her by surprise, and she tried to avoid reacting in an obviously negative way. “Actually, I thought I’d start trying to piece some things together.”

“You have to eat,” he said, still smiling. “There’s a little place about five miles from here where they have the best catfish. You can fill me in on your plans for finding the missing key.”

“Thanks, but I’d really like to just jump right in, if you don’t mind.”

His smile didn’t change. “Certainly. Maybe we can do it another time?”

“Yes. Maybe so.”

Give the guy a break, Cleo tried to tell herself. The only reason she disliked him was because he was a guy her mother would have adored.

Cleo sat on the edge of the bed, hands between her knees, staring at the fingerprint-smudged wall. She wasn’t the damn queen or anything, but they could have put her up somewhere other than this cockroach-infested hole that was giving off twenty years of bad vibes. It had her karmic balance all out of whack.

To hell with it. She was getting out of there.

Cleo left the offensive room in search of a just-as-offensive manager. She found him outside in the smothering heat, sweat glistening on his forehead as he contemplated the trash-filled pool.

“Could I bum a ride to town?” Cleo asked. “I need to go to the bank.”

“I don’t know.” He scratched at his belly through his tank top. “I’m pretty busy.”

“I’ll pay you. How does twenty bucks sound?”

Like a done deal. That was all it took to pull him away from the pool. And anyway, it seemed as if the mere contemplation of cleaning it had already exhausted him.

“My name’s Willie,” her driver said, pulling the boat of a car onto the two-lane that led into town. He popped in a CD. Sly and the Family Stone blared while Willie slapped the red steering wheel and sang along.

In town, Cleo cashed the check at the bank. A quick stop at the Tastee Delight, and they were heading back to The Palms. In the motel room, Cleo got half her vanilla shake and five fries down before throwing up.

This place is bad.

I have to get out of here.

Now. Right away.

Before she changed her mind about leaving, or before something happened such as an unexpected visit from Daniel Sinclair, she put in a call to Beau. When he answered, she quickly told him she needed to stop by to get her dog.

“What?” he asked, his voice conveying shock and panic and a number of things she didn’t think she could deal with at the moment.

“I need to get Premonition.”

There was a long silence. Then Beau said, “Does he have to go? I thought he could stay with me for a while. He likes it here. He sleeps on the end of my bed-and yesterday I bought special dog dishes for his food and water, and even a mat to put underneath, with paw prints on it.”

As he spoke, Cleo’s heart sank. Daniel had been right. She shouldn’t have let Beau keep the dog, but she’d had no idea they would become so attached to each other in just a day or two.

“He’s happy here,” he said.

He’s happy here. It was true. Premonition was happy there. He’d taken to Beau immediately.

“Can I keep him? Just a few more days?”