A Murder in Mohair by Anne Canadeo

decided it best not to ask. Cassandra was clearly in the card-reading zone now.
    She picked up each card, puzzled over it a moment or two, then pushed it to the center of the table. Then she flipped out a few more cards from each deck to make neat rows underneath.
    Suddenly she pointed to the first card, a picture of three figures fighting in a field with wooden rods. Cassandra touched it with the tip of her index finger, her long lavender fingernail making a tapping sound.
    â€œYou’re having some conflict at your workplace? Some . . . rivalry?” she asked Suzanne.
    â€œYes!” Suzanne sat up straight in her seat, as if struck by a cattle prod.
    Cassandra did not react, her eyes on the cards. “The energy is very strong, masculine, I’d say. But it could be a woman with a strong personality. We all have both masculine and feminine energy,” she explained.
    True, Lucy thought. But that does get her off the hook from saying for sure if she sees a man or a woman, doesn’t it?
    â€œPerhaps there are two rivals? Or a boss and a colleague?”
    â€œWell . . . I am in a situation like that. With another saleswoman. She stole two big sales from me this spring. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to complain about her to our boss and sound like a crybaby.”
    â€œI can see that. . . . You’re the strong, independent figure, on this side.” Cassandra pointed again. “Your manager favors her? Is that right?” Cassandra glanced up at Suzanne to confirm this guess.
    Suzanne shrugged. “Maybe . . . Walter, the broker, likes anyone who makes him money.”
    Oh brother . . . fish, fish, fish. Was Suzanne really going to fall for this? Cassandra already knew that she was in sales, from their conversation in the diner, and maybe had even learned more about all of them from Nora.
    But Suzanne seemed to be eating it up. At this rate, she wouldn’t have any appetite left for their Chinese takeout.
    â€œI can see from the cards below . . . this man with the bags of gold at his feet,” Cassandra explained, pointing out another card. “He’s interested in his business flourishing, whatever the cost. His intentions are not good or bad. Just self-serving.” She looked up at Suzanne. “He might promise to solve it. But he really doesn’t want to.”
    â€œHa! That’s Walter, all over.” Suzanne sat back and shook her head. “But what should I do? How can I keep her from poaching listings from me?”
    Cassandra took a breath and focused on the cards again, turning a few more over in the next pile. “This second card, a man tending to rows of wheat. This is a card of patience. The harvest comes to those who wait and focus on their own endeavors. This is the card of what can be.” She flipped over a few more cards in that pile and glanced at Suzanne again. “It appears this situation will clear of its own accord. If you focus on tending to your own rows, so to speak,” she added with another small smile. “You have great things in store for you, real victories—coming in late summer, or early fall.” She pointed to the last card Suzanne had turned over. A gladiator, riding a chariot with two wild-looking horses on the reins, one white and one black. “This is the chariot rider, returning from battle. He’s victorious but still must control the two horses, all the divergent energies. You’re a very busy woman, moving in many directions. Taking action on many fronts,” Cassandra said, characterizing Suzanne perfectly as she flipped over more cards from that deck. “Just stay calm and keep things under control. You have the strength and will to be victorious.”
    â€œWow . . . thank you.” Suzanne definitely looked pleased. “I guess I have more questions. About my kids, mainly. But maybe someone else should