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nothing.”
    “Ah, that would be the ghost of your poor, dead mum, trying to get your attention.”
    “Since I don’t believe in ghosts, I’m going to have to look for mice. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I really have to get back to work. That carpet won’t strip itself.”
    “Of course. I apologize for dropping in before you got properly settled. It’s just that I had a premonition. I wondered if you’d found it yet.”
    “Found what?”
    “A brown envelope. I couldn’t make out if it was addressed to anyone.” A dark crimson flush spread up Misty’s neck and across her face. “I’m still trying to refine my psychic powers. Sometimes my visions are a little clouded.”
    “An envelope?” I shook my head, forcing myself not to look at the cereal cupboard. “No, I haven’t found anything like an envelope.”
    “Yes, well, as I said, I’m still trying to refine my powers. It could have been a symbolic message, although usually those come in the form of animals or birds.” Misty stood up, brushed some invisible crumbs off her pants. “I’ll leave you my card. Please call me if you find yourself needing any assistance, any assistance at all. And thank you for the tea and cookies.”
    I took the card and nodded politely. Then I escorted her out the door and into her car. I watched as she pulled out of my driveway, off Snapdragon Circle, and onto Trillium Way. When I was certain she wasn’t coming back, I went back to the front door and peered through the peephole. The image was blurred and distorted, but there was no question about it: you could definitely see inside the house. Right into my brown and yellow kitchen.
    So much for Misty Rivers’ psychic vision.

Chapter 8
     
    The locksmith arrived a few minutes after Misty had left. I asked him about replacing the peephole with something less invasive. Thankfully, he installed those as well. He assured me that a modern peephole would allow me to look out, but not allow anyone to look in. He set about to work, telling me it would take a couple of hours.
    As much as I wanted to find out what was inside the envelope, I didn’t want to look at the contents with anyone around. Instead, I fired up my laptop and spent the time catching up on my emails. As promised, Leith’s assistant had scanned and sent the rental applications for Jessica Tamarand and Misty Rivers. I printed them off and was just about to review them when the locksmith came to tell me he’d finished. I paid the man, watched him leave, then sat down in the kitchen, staring at the cupboard. It was time to find out what was in that envelope.
    I’m not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t five tarot cards carefully wrapped inside a sheet of pale pink paper, the sort of paper you’d find inside one of those fancy boxes of stationary at the greeting card store.
    What I knew about tarot could fit in a thimble, but even I knew five cards was far from a full deck. I unfolded the paper, took note of the softly swirling backhand slant, the turquoise blue ink. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but to my eyes it looked feminine, which made sense given the color of the paper and ink. The cards were listed in order as follows:
    1) III: The Empress
    2) IV: The Emperor
    3) VI: The Lovers
    4) The Three of Swords
    5) XIII: Death
    I laid the cards out on the coffee table and looked at them a while. I realized I had no idea what any of it meant, though the last card, Death, definitely freaked me out.
    I could check for meanings online, but it was probably best to consult with an expert. I thought about Misty Rivers. As reluctant as I was to involve her in my life, she did have a five-thousand-dollar retainer and I might as well have her earn it. Whether she actually knew anything about tarot was another story.
    There was one more thing inside the envelope, a small silk brocade pouch, the sort of thing you’d put jewelry in if you were traveling. I undid the snap and pulled out a rectangular locket with a