Slight Chance: Chance at Love, #4

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Will Bolinger’s mother had died when he was only five, his brother Derek eight at the time. Kate Bolinger had taken a boatload of sleeping pills, climbed into a tub of water and drowned. Or at least that was what everyone had believed for more than thirty years .

But now his cousin Garrett’s wife Regina says she believes Will’s mother was murdered. Regina was a bit of a psychic, something she didn’t like to broadcast. But the family knew and in turn respected her privacy. According to Regina, someone made Kate a cup of tea, added the pills, put her in that tub and held her head under until the last drop of life had been snuffed out of her.

Since Regina was pregnant, her husband did not want her to get involved in solving the mystery of whether there was any truth to what she had seen. There was also another reason Garrett didn’t want her involved. The poor woman had just been through hell after her brother had been killed. And she had helped to bring down the dirty cops responsible for his death, risking her own life in the process.

And Will’s brother Derek refused to accept the possibility that someone had murdered their mother. Because there was only one person who could have done such a horrible thing. Only one person who would have had a motive. Wyatt Bolinger. Will and Derek’s father.

But Wyatt was dead, had passed away nearly twelve years ago. Which was why Derek did not want to dredge up the past. What would be the point? Derek had explained that even if Wyatt had committed such a despicable act, there was no way to punish him now. No way for them to avenge their mother’s death. And they would only bring grief to the family, especially for their stepmother Betty.

But Will couldn’t let it go. He had to know for sure. Even if it meant digging up his parents’ past, ruining their family name, and coming to terms with the fact that he may be the son of a murderer.

One way or another, he would not stop until he faced the ugly truth head on.

Which is why he was parked outside of a storefront on Chicago’s east side. It was an older neighborhood, one he had never frequented. Ruby Red was the name of the place. Fortune telling, psychic, medium, astrology and tarot card readings were the key words the woman had used to enable him to find her web site. Those words had drawn Will to her. Those words and the woman’s exotic looks. The depthless jet black eyes and the long flowing auburn hair. Dressed like a gypsy, her photo had spoken to him. The low cut bodice of the dress she’d worn showed off just enough cleavage for a man to notice, but not enough to consider the photo risqué.

Will stared at the shop again. Ruby Red looked like it was a combination of several businesses. The sign advertised not only the key words for which he had searched, but also used books, coffee, tea, handmade jewelry, pottery and unique accessories. A mishmash of clutter had been scattered about the display window which did nothing to enhance the business, at least not as far as Will was concerned. A lit neon sign also flashed in the window, announcing they loved walk-ins. I’ll bet. The parking lot was practically deserted.

Will sat there a little longer, his engine running as snowflakes dotted his windshield. He was out of his element, didn’t belong here, but still something made him get out of his car and walk inside the place. Curiosity perhaps?

A cheap bell, dangling from a string, chimed above his head. He stomped the snow from his boots on the welcome mat. The letters spelled out Welcome to Ruby Red.

The smell of burning incense hit him in the face and burned his nostrils. The place reminded him of an old cluttered consignment shop. A little of this and a little of that, mostly jewelry, pottery, candles and knickknacks. There was a rack of used books, the spines badly worn. Some of the spines had been taped. A cardboard sign on the wall above the rack said one dollar for each. Why bother? There couldn’t possibly be any profit and they were basically trashing up the place.

There were only three patrons inside, which Will found odd for a Saturday afternoon just two weeks before Christmas. He’d assumed the place would be crawling with people. A bald man in his fifties appeared to be examining some jewelry pieces. And off to the right side of the room two women in their thirties were seated at a small round table chatting over coffee or maybe tea.

A tall lanky blonde with super short hair was busy wiping down the coffee bar. She smiled when she saw Will and gave him a small wave. He nodded. A man with bright orange spiky hair and tattoo-covered arms was waiting on the gentleman shopping for jewelry.

Will didn’t see the woman in the web site photo anywhere. Maybe she was telling someone’s fortune in a back room. Or maybe the proprietor didn’t work on Saturdays. Since there was jewelry scattered on every table and counter in the shop, he pretended to be interested, picked up a pair of chandelier earrings that had caught his eye and examined them closer. Not bad. In fact, whoever had designed them had done a great job blending the amethyst gemstones with the sterling silver.

Those are one of my favorites. The woman’s voice startled him for a moment. Assuming it was the tall blonde who had waved he turned to face her. But this woman wasn’t a blonde. Her lush dark auburn hair hung over her shoulders and her black eyes bore into him as if she could read every thought he had. Ruby Redmond.

Are you shopping for anyone special? Wife? Girlfriend? she asked then licked her red painted lips. She was about five-six, wore a white tunic over a long floral skirt. A red bandana was tied gypsy fashion over the top of her head.

Wife, he said without thinking then changed his mind. I meant girlfriend. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t have either, but the earrings had intrigued him. She intrigued him. Although he had only stopped by to check out the place. He figured if he liked what he saw he would come back for a reading.

I see, she said, obviously judging him. Should I gift wrap them for you?

Uh, sure, he said, placing the jewelry in her hand and following her to the counter. He handed her several bills. Who designs your pieces?

I’m the designer of all the jewelry. My brother Fletcher makes the pottery pieces, she said, pointing to the tattooed spiky-haired man. And my sister-in-law Jules runs the coffee shop.

You do much business here? he asked, already knowing the answer. The place needed a total makeover. A new location would be even better. Get rid of some of the clutter, add some nice display racks.

We do okay, she said and offered her hand. Her large gold hoop earrings swung along her jawline. I’m Ruby Redmond, the owner.

Will took her hand, admired the confident handshake. Will. When she raised a brow waiting for more, he said, Just Will.

Nice to meet you, Just Will, she said with a smirk and retracted her hand. The hand that had so carefully made the earrings he’d just purchased.

He’d read about scam artists who claimed to be able to tell fortunes. They gathered information about you beforehand and then used it to gain your confidence. Thus the reason he held back his last name. He wasn’t giving her any more than he absolutely had to give her.

Not that he was a skeptic. He wouldn’t have come today if he didn’t think she could help him. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d come because he couldn’t stay away after seeing her photo online. But he’d already made up his mind to use a psychic to help find out the truth about his mother’s death even before he’d come across Ruby Redmond’s web site. Ruby’s photo had just seemed to jump out at him more than the other psychics’ photos had.

Before considering a psychic he’d asked his sister-in-law Olivia for help. She was a detective in Ashton Falls, Ohio where Will had grown up, where his mother had died. But his brother Derek had forbid his wife to help, again saying since their father was dead, and he was most likely the one responsible if their mother had been murdered, there was no point. And since Will couldn’t ask Regina for help, he had to come up with a plan of his own if he wanted to dig deeper.

There you go, Ruby said, handing him his change and the wrapped earrings, which she’d placed in a small paper bag. Is there anything else I can show you today? We have several nice pottery pieces, and I’m not just saying that because Fletch made them. They’re really fabulous. If you and your wife entertain a lot, you may want to take a look at the peacock platter he just finished.

I don’t entertain. Sorry.

How about a nice vase for your wife, or girlfriend? Or maybe they’d each like one?

He had to hand it to her, she was quite the salesperson. Maybe next time. He turned to walk away then paused and pivoted back around. How much for a reading?

That depends. Were you interested in a palm reading, tarot cards, tea leaves?

How about a good old fashioned look- into-my-eyes-and-tell-me-what-you-see kind of reading? Isn’t that what Regina had done? She’d seen something, maybe something he had suppressed the night his mother had died. Although if he had seen anything that night, no one had ever mentioned him being a witness or even being awake for that matter. He had only been five. He barely remembered anything about his first five years of life or his mother, let alone anything about that night. Of course, he had photos of Kate Bolinger, but none had ever triggered a memory of any kind.

If he had suppressed something, he wanted to remember. And yet he refused to go to a hypnotist. He’d let someone put him in a trance back in his college days and it had freaked him out. A friend had videotaped the whole thing. When they had played it back and Will had seen himself on all fours barking like a dog he went berserk. Of course, he’d laughed along with his fraternity brothers, but swore he would never do it again. It was like he had died and was then reincarnated. Too freaky. No thanks.

I’m not sure I can do that.

Why not? he asked. According to your web site you have thousands of happy clients. Although he was starting to think that number had been inflated quite a bit. So are you the real deal or not?

Of course, I am, she said, glancing at her brother. But I can’t just do it alone. I need a palm to read or some cards or something.

Props?

She nodded then shook her head side to side. Not exactly. I mean fortune telling is meant to be entertainment. It’s for fun.

So you’re a scam artist?

I . . . sort of resent that, she said, standing straighter.

Yeah, well I didn’t drive all the way over here to play some game, to have fun, or be entertained. I have some things in my past that I would like to know about.

She narrowed her black eyes at him.

What about your claim to be a medium or a psychic? Is that all a bunch of bullshit too?

I think you should leave now. She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at her brother who was still trying to make a sale.

Did she think he was afraid of that skinny tattooed punk, what was his name? Oh yeah, Fletcher. Fletch, she had called him.

Just tell me the truth. Do you have any power or not?

We don’t call it power. She relaxed her shoulders somewhat but kept her arms crossed, her guard up. We call it a gift.

Okay, do you have a gift or don’t you?

She sucked in a long breath, let it out slowly. Some days. Sometimes I can see things, sometimes I can’t.

What about today? Is today one of your on days or off days?

She frowned and lowered her arms to her sides. It doesn’t work like that, Mr. . . .

Will, he said again. Call me Will.

"First of all, Will, she said, accentuating his name, if someone isn’t a believer, and you obviously aren’t, then I probably won’t be able to see anything at all."

"But I am a believer. I just don’t know if I believe in you."

Okay, I’ve had enough of your insults. Maybe you should just run along now.

But Will didn’t move. Refused to move. He’d looked at dozens of web sites over the past few days, trying to find the right psychic to help him, and he had made his choice. He wanted Ruby. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insulting. It’s just that I need to be sure you’re not going to hose me.

She didn’t respond. She simply looked him up and down and didn’t seem impressed.

Say something. Tell me what you’re thinking, he said.

Okay. You don’t look like the type of customer who usually comes in here. And with your expensive shoes and overcoat, not to mention that Jaguar parked out front, she said, aiming her gaze toward the display window, you don’t look like you’re that worried about wasting a little money. So why are you really here? Why did you choose my place?

I found you on the web. You looked . . . reputable. He could hardly tell her he’d been driven by her exotic looks. He sighed and reached for his wallet. He pulled out three one-hundred-dollar bills. Tell you what, he said, setting them on the counter, give me as much as you can for this and we’ll call it a day.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the cash. He’d bet she didn’t take in half that much in an average day. He watched as she chewed at her bottom lip, contemplating.

Finally, she looked up at him. Okay, you’ve got a deal. But I don’t give refunds. So if you’re not happy with my services when your time is up, then too bad.

That sounds fair.

She eyed him up and down again, took the money and tucked it in the cash drawer. Follow me.

Will started feeling a little giddy and somewhat hopeful as he followed the gypsy looking woman behind a curtain and down a dark hallway. She flipped on a light and led him inside a small cluttered room. In one corner sat a potter’s wheel in front of clay spattered walls. Along the far wall was obviously where Ruby worked on her Artesian designs. There were beads, gems and metals scattered atop the rectangular folding table. Ruby walked toward the wall of metal cabinets and opened one.

Have a seat, she said, pointing toward the round wooden table and two straight back chairs in the center of the room.

After Will slipped off his coat, he sat down, folding the wool garment across his lap.

Ruby sat too and began spreading some oversized tarot cards on the table.

No cards, Will said.

But I . . .

No cards, he repeated. Just tell me what you see.

She gathered the cards into a pile, set them aside. I don’t usually do it this way.

I just gave you three hundred dollars. Appease me. Look into my eyes, and tell me what you see, he repeated. He watched as she fidgeted in her seat, adjusted her tunic and skirt.

She smiled softly before her gaze started darting around the room.

Look at me, he said.

She made a tsk sound and rolled her eyes.

He was losing his patience with her. He was starting to think she no more had a gift for seeing things than he had. But for some reason, he didn’t want to leave without her at least trying to see something.

She met his eyes, held them for several long moments then shook her head. Nothing. I’m sorry.

Try again. He focused on her intently, hoping she would do the same. But after a minute and a half, she tore her gaze away.

Maybe if we hold hands, she suggested.

Sure, Will said. Resting his hands atop the table, he took her small hands in his and held them tightly. Again he looked at her intently. Those jet black eyes had no expression in them at that moment. It was like they belonged to a doll of some kind. She held her posture still as she concentrated on his face. Her hands were slightly rough for those of a woman, but then again she was a jewelry designer. She worked with her hands.

She had a nice mouth. Sensual. Her lips not too thin or too full. Her skin was nice too. And her scent was as exotic as she was. Was she thinking nice thoughts about his features? he wondered.

She lifted her shoulder and he naturally assumed she was about to give up again when she said, I see a lonely man.

Finally they were getting somewhere. Will sat completely still, let her do her thing. Okay, so he was lonely at times. Nothing for which to be ashamed. It’s not like she said he was a bastard or pervert or something worse.

She closed her eyes, relaxed her body and was quiet for a moment. Then she opened her eyes and focused on him once more. Your wife is worried about you. Worried you don’t love her anymore, that you might be having an affair.

He almost came unglued. Dropping her hands, he stared back at her. That’s the best you’ve got? My wife is worried I don’t love her anymore?

Yes. Sorry. That’s all I could pick up from you. But remember our deal? I don’t give refunds.

You’ve got a lot of nerve, lady. And to think I picked you above all the others. He glared at her a bit longer, his vexation evident. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. I’m not married.

Her eyes widened then she put on a stone face. I don’t like liars.

And I don’t like charlatans.

I don’t know what that means, but I’m smart enough to know it wasn’t a compliment, she said bitterly.

You don’t know what a charlatan is? Where the hell did you get your degree?

I graduated from George Washington High School here in East Chicago.

I meant which university did you attend?

She only blinked at him. She hadn’t gone to college, obviously.

Sighing, he drilled his stare into her again. Why would you do this, Ruby? You knew I came here looking for answers. Why would you pretend to read me? Why not just tell me the truth? That you’re a fake?

I’m not a fake! It’s just that things only come to me rarely. Shrugging, she added, You were so determined to hear me say something. I figured you’d be happy with any little glimpse into your life I could see.

But you didn’t see anything, did you?

No. She hung her head then faced him again. I’m sorry. I really am. I tried, I did, but nothing came to me. You’re so . . .

What? You may as well say it.

You’re closed off. You’re distant. She looked into his eyes, took a breath. You can’t seem to get close to anyone. You don’t trust many people, especially women. You’ve been that way ever since your mother died.

They looked at