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when she gave her name. She noticed a reporter and cameraman for the local Observer newspaper waiting outside and knew that it wouldn’t be long before Maureen Carey’s death crime was reported on TV and the other papers would soon be sniffing it out for their headlines.

     
    6
     
    The girl hesitated a minute or so in the open doorway of the colourful Tarot booth on the Pier, casting a slender dark shadow into the booth. Esmeralda looked up from the cards she was studying carefully on the green baize topped table in front of her. So she had come then. Esmeralda had pictured the girl clearly in her mind more than once that morning. And she had worried about her ever since.
    ‘Come in and sit down. Is it a reading from the Tarot cards you require?’
    ‘Mais oui - yes - please.’
    The accent settled it. She was the young French girl Yvette, she had seen briefly for a minute or so talking to Cliff Jones, the hotel chef in the White Rock Hotel foyer , that morning. She studied the girl carefully as she took her place at the table. Yvette was attractive, her shining raven black hair was accompanied by a glowing honey coloured skin, and large golden brown doe shaped eyes. Her perfume was both tempting, subtle French and expensive, the black, brown and tan cotton dress simple but also expensive like the slender gold anklet round her slim left ankle.
    She could be a student at the language college in town, but was certainly not living on a small income. She settled in the chair, gazing around curiously at first, and then she focused her full attention on the clairvoyant.
    Esmeralda collected up the Tarot cards, wiped them carefully with a green silk scarf and handed them over to her young client. ‘Think well, my dear, on what you wish to know. Shuffle and select fifteen cards and give them to me, please.’
    Yvette obeyed, dropped a couple on the floor, and picked them up, before choosing the others from the colourful pack. The fallen cards were the Tower and the Emperor. Esmeralda laid them out on the table. What falls to the ground sure to come sound. Her keen eyes noted the girl’s choice with a wry twist of her wide, expressive mouth. And studied them carefully for a minute or so.
    The girl cupped her hands under her small chin and waited, her flame red mouth pursed tight with concentration, her eyes intent on the cards displayed there.
    Esmeralda picked up Justice and placed the card beside the Queen of Cups. The girl needed to sit down and think clearly and practically about her situation. The Eight of Clubs suggested her emotional disappointment. The Emperor beside the Ten of Pentacles showed that the girl’s attachment to material security was an overriding thing. She needed to place less value on it. The Page of Swords reflected her present troubled frame of mind. And the Tower was the catalyst that lay ahead, accompanied by the King of Wands, the Emperor and the Knight of Swords. Denoting the three men in her life...
    ‘So you wish to know what lays ahead for your future, my de ar?’ Esmeralda said dryly. ‘It is what you make it. You have it in your own hands to do what you will with your life. I see you have a young man. Two men are close to you...’
    ‘Is the young man the right one for me?’
    Esmeralda’s voice was caustic. ‘Don’t you know already? But which one do you prefer? Here is the Emperor. He represents the strong influence of wealth in your life. He is a rich man with much experience.’ She frowned. ‘But I now see more than two men here with you.’
    Yvette’s black brows knitted together tightly. And her hand fidgeted with the slender gold watch on the bare honey brown arm held in her lap.
    ‘There is a third man here.’ Esmeralda looked for her reaction to this. ‘His intentions towards you are veiled from me.’ Her dark brows frowned. ‘But I feel that the portents are not so good, my dear. So beware - you must be careful how you handle your love life. You understand what I am