“Titus Strubinger. He died in his mom’s basement two weeks ago.”
“How in the hell do you know that?” Kellen demanded.
Jasmine’s thumbs moved efficiently over her phone screen. “Here.”
Riley’s eyes widened. “That’s him!” It was an obituary inThePatriot Newsfor Titus Strubinger, age 49, from Enola, Pennsylvania.
Kellen leaned in to take a look. “Died at home,” he read. “How did you know about this?”
“Attorney-client privilege,” Jasmine announced smugly.
“Strubinger was your client?” he pressed.
“No. But his mother is.”
“What were you helping her with?”
“Get a warrant.”
“How did he die?” he asked.
“Heart attack,” she said. “His mom found him in the basement a few days after he’d kicked the bucket.”
Two dead bodies linked by her spirit guides. It couldn’t be a coincidence, Riley mused.
“I guess lawyers aren’t completely useless,” Kellen quipped.
Riley pushed her chair back to avoid the line of fire.
“At least I knew my friend here wasn’t a murderer,idiot,” Jasmine spat out.
“You know what,ma’am? This is official police business,” Kellen said. “Maybe you should go back to trying to get old folks to name you in their wills.”
“Don’t you ma’am me. I am an elder law attorney, you smug son of a—”
“Is that an elderly mime?” Riley strained to look at the front window where a short, roundish woman with a cane and a beret had been until she’d been lassoed by an invisible rope. There was something eerily familiar about her.
“Oh. Em. Gee. It’s you!” The high-pitched squeal coming from behind Riley brought their conversation to a screeching halt.
Riley didn’t have time to duck the incoming body as it collided with hers. Within a second, a barista with pink hair and a nose stud had her in a headlock.
“Gah,” Riley croaked, flailing her arms.
“You’re Riley Thorn!” the girl squealed. “You saved my life.”
“Oh, shit,” Jasmine muttered under her breath.
“Help. Me,” Riley rasped.
“Okay, honey. Let’s let Ms. Thorn breathe for a second,” Jasmine suggested, unwinding the girl’s arms from Riley’s neck.
Every eye in the cafe was on them.
“Sorry! I was just so excited. I never thought I’d get the opportunity to say thank you,” the girl said, fanning her face as her eyes filled with tears. “So. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Not only did you find my cancer, I also met a really cute nurse, and we’re totally dating now!”
“Uh. You’re welcome?” Riley slumped lower in her chair.
Earlier in the summer, Riley had been cursed with a message from the barista’s great-grandmother Ida about the girl’s lymph nodes. Turned out, Ida was on to something. After Riley reluctantly passed on the message, the barista was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, and the story of the mysterious woman with the message from beyond made the local news.
