Page 30 of A Seer and Present Danger

Jules inhaled and nodded. “All right. We’ll wear practical shoes and keep an eye on Yancy. I’ll keep reading tarot and casting scrying spells. Are you going to get into trouble for visiting Jean?”

I hadn’t thought about it. “I don’t think so? The police didn’t say I couldn’t contact her.”

Jules rubbed her hands together. “Good. Let’s see if we can help. Maybe she’s remembered something that will give us an idea of where to start our investigation.”

We got out of the car.

“Other than the diner,” I said.

“Right. Other than there.”

Jules knocked on the door and only a moment later, Jean opened it.

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting—maybe that she’d be sad—but she was laughing, headphones pushed back off her ears, pink hair split into two braids.

“Jules! Piper!”

“Girl, what did you get mixed up in now?” Jules moved in for a big warm hug, and Jean wrapped her arms around her.

“It wasn’t me, auntie. I promise.”

“I know. Of course I know, honey.”

They hugged a little longer, then Jean pulled back. “Come in, come in. You have perfect timing. I just got done kicking Marty’s can in the game.”

She stopped halfway into the living room. “Wait. Are you both all right? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Jules said. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Piper, are you all right?” Jean asked.

“Me? Oh, all good! But you’re under house arrest. That’s awful!”

“That’s annoying,” she corrected. “I can’t help Delaney and Myra. I can’t find out who was at the diner. I can’t investigate the crime or the killer.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Jules said.

“Nope. No way. Do not stick your nose in the murder investigation, auntie.”

“I’ll have you know my nose isn’t anywhere near that investigation,” Jules said airily. “Let me get us all some lemonade so we can chat.”

She breezed off to the kitchen.

Jean watched her go, frowning. “Is she trying to solve this crime?”

“No?” I offered. I mean, it wasn’t a lie. We hadn’t officially started investigating anything yet. “But Yancy thinks he’s going to be killed.”

“What?” Jean spun, her eyes wide. “Did he see that in his future?”

“No, he still can’t see the future, but he dreamed he’s going to die, and he wants me to find his killer, which is really not my forte.”

She groaned. “This is not how it works. I’m the one who gets the doom-twinges, not Yancy.” She flopped down onto a comfy rocking chair, one leg tucked beneath her. “Make it make sense.”

I chuckled. “If it helps, it wasn’t a doom-twinge, it was a doom-dream.”

She blew out a breath. “Did his doom-dream have any cold hard evidence attached? Something solid we can look for?”

“No, just vibes and stuffed toys. I know how that sounds.” I paused a moment, considering. “He’s worried, Jean. He’s afraid.”