Once Upon a Crime Read Online Free Page B

useful resource on several of Gretel’s more tricky cases.
    The women seated themselves closer to the table, curtains drawn, a pool of low light from a single lantern replacing the brightness of the spring sunshine. Gretel took the pack as she was directed and shuffled carefully, allowing her mind’s eye to see as many cats as she could stand. Agnes took the cards from her and began to lay them out. She did so in silence for a moment, seeming to find nothing of interest, and then, all at once, paused and gave a little smile.
    â€œWell, well, well,” she said. “That is unexpected.”
    â€œWhat? What can you see?”
    â€œYou’re not going to like it.”
    â€œTell me.”
    â€œYou will meet a tall, dark, handsome stranger.”
    â€œOh, Agnes, really!”
    â€œI’m serious! That’s what it says.”
    â€œThere had better be something else . . .”
    â€œAll right, give me a chance. You can’t rush the cards.” She turned one more, and then another. The pictures meantnothing to Gretel, so that she was forced to sit quietly and wait for Agnes to reveal their significance.
    â€œThis may be something, it’s hard to make out.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œLooks like it’s suggesting . . . gloves. Hands, maybe? No, fingers, that’s it. Fingers. Any of your missing cats got fingers?”
    Gretel successfully masked her excitement. “Don’t be daft,” she said.
    Agnes shrugged. “Stranger things have happened in these parts.” She turned another card and grimaced. “Urgh! That’s very nasty.”
    â€œFor pity’s sake, what is it?”
    â€œA troll. Yeuch, haven’t had any dealings with a troll for years. Horrible things.”
    â€œWhat about it? Has it got the cats?”
    â€œNo. I don’t think so. But there must be some connection.” She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. “I can see a bridge. An old stone one. There’s a revolting smell.”
    â€œWhere? Where is this place?”
    â€œNot anywhere I’d be in a hurry to visit. Wait a minute, there’s a signpost . . . I can’t quite make it out. It’s all blurry.”
    â€œWould another note make it any clearer?” Agnes opened one eye.
    â€œGretel, you are such a cynic.” She closed the eye again, screwing up her face in concentration. “Something beginning with F. No, P. That’s it . . . Per . . . No good, I can’t read the rest.” She opened her eyes and refocused on the cards. “There’s something here about water.”
    â€œWell, under the bridge, presumably, there is a river.”
    â€œNo, more water than that. A lake, perhaps.” She sat up straight now, her scrutiny of the cards over. “So, there you are. Any help?”
    Gretel attempted to recap.
    â€œFingers.A stinking troll who lives under a bridge, near somewhere beginning with Per, and a lake. It’s all a bit vague.”
    â€œDon’t forget the tall, dark, handsome stranger.”
    â€œOh, please .”
    â€œI promise you, it’s what I saw.”
    â€œWell,” said Gretel, forcing her feet back into her shoes and getting up, “unless he’s got the cats, I’m not interested.”
    The journey home was long and uncomfortable, and manageable only because of the wads of cotton Agnes had provided. They stuck out of Gretel’s precious shoes in ludicrous tufts, but at least she was able to walk. The sun was warm and before she was half a mile from the cottage she was perspiring beneath her tweed jacket, the heat provoking her dormant flea bites into a new bout of irritation. Just when Gretel was thinking that she wasn’t charging Frau Hapsburg nearly enough for all the effort she was expending, an empty cart pulled by a chestnut nag appeared from a side lane and joined the road in the direction of town.
    â€œHey! Wait a minute!” Gretel hobbled