Susan Aylworth - Maggie Rising

Book #1 of the

Maggie Rising Case Files

By

Susan Aylworth

For my girls:

Sam and Alex;

Sydnie and Allie Mae;

Elise, Erin and Abby;

Emma, Adelaide and Sadie

beautiful, powerful women.

Claim your power.

And always,

for Roger.

Maggie Rising

by Susan Aylworth 2013

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publishers except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review or promotional purposes.

Published by Dystel-Goderich Literary Management

One Union Square West, Suite 904

New York, NY 10003

Author Susan Aylworth

www.susanaylworth.com or www.susanaylworth.blogspot.com

Follow @SusanAylworth

This book is a work of fiction. Some locations and place names are real, but the characters are creations of the authors imagination. Any similarity to persons living and/or dead is coincidental and unintended.

Cover design by Marsha Canham

Special thanks to Patricia Kimsey and to authors/editors Heather B. Moore and Samantha Mackey Hillaire, whose help with this text was invaluable. Thanks also to Roger and Paulespecially for your sparkling witas well as to Amanda, Andrea, Rhonda, Cindy, Mary, Carly and any of the rest of you who read (and commented) little or much. I appreciate you all. Thanks especially to Alexis; you know why.

I am deeply and forever indebted, more than I can say, to Chico Chief of Police Mike Maloney (now retired), who listened to my what if? questions and took them all seriously, talked me carefully through real police procedures for events that have never happened (and likely never will), answered endless silly questions, and treated me as if everything I said made sense. Thanks also to Laurie Maloney who, because of her volunteer worknot to mention her many years married to the Chico Police Departmentwas priceless in her insights.

My deepest gratitude and respect to Captain Andy Duch, commander of the Butte County Jail, who showed me around his domain with justifiable pride. Although the jail census was over 600 during my visit, the captain knew both his officers and many inmates by name. He treated everyone with respect and was treated with courtesy in turn. Additional thanks to Correctional Deputy Janice Young, who walked both the captain and me through the booking procedures for a female prisoner (the commander only books men, so he learned from our tour as well). Thanks especially for the memorable moment when you let me hear the door clang shut behind me. Neither Maggie nor I will ever forget it. Please forgive me for the small moments when I fictionalized jail behaviors and keep up the great work you are doing.

Claim your power,

even when only the dead believe.

On the last day of the year, I sat in my Great-Aunt Bettys reading parlor staring at the framed story cloth on the wall. The embroidered figures showed the cycle of planting, harvest, and New Year in a Southeast Asian village. One figure, the doctor or shaman, told a different story. If I had never seen him, maybe I never would have been arrested for murder, spent time in jail, or befriended a ghost. Or I might have, anyway. Its possible I was already on that path.

Early October

So, are you really a psychic?

The girl at the counter looked like so many others Id seen since hanging my shingle next to Aunt Bettys last summer. I wanted to answer, Hey, look: You came here because the sign saysPsychic Readings. What do you expect? Instead, I gave her my wisest, most knowing smile while sizing her up.

She was somewhat shorter than my five-feet-nine, but most women are, and she was curvier than I am, especially through her surgically augmented chest. Her blonde wasnt natural, either, though her roots werent as dark as my near-black curls. Even her coloring seemed unnatural, more peaches-and-cream than my rubies-and-ivory, heavy on the cake foundation. The rest was easy: sorority chick; sporting her daddys credit card; party girl looking for a thrill and probably trying to figure out whether Jason (or Will or that guy from the frat mixer last night) was The One.

Youve come to discover whether your love is true, I said in my best impersonation of a movie fortune teller.

The girls look of happy surprise told me I was on the right track. You want to know if your sorority sisters can be trusted, I went on.

Wow! she said. How did you know I was in a sorority?

I gave her that all-knowing look again, not mentioning that the Greek letters on her sweatshirt were a pretty loud hint. You want to see what the future holds for youcareer, marriage, or both. You want to know about your future family.

Wo-o-o-o-ow, she said again, drawing it out admiringly. Its just like you can read my mind!

That is why youre here, I answered in my wise persona, while silently thinking Duh, Chick. Thats why people get psychic readings. The reading will be twenty dollars, please.

She handed me a crisp new twenty and I tucked it into the pocket of my purple reading gown. I have three such gowns in purple, ruby, and hunter green, all from the Farmers Market. They look like crushed velvet but are really wash-and-wear polyester, and theyve become my standard uniform for readingselegant and Bohemian, but easy-care. The folds swept around me as I led her into the parlor.

Im excited about this, Sorority Chick said. My name is

I put up a hand. No names, please. I prefer to read you without knowing.

Wo-o-o-ow, she said again.

I adopted my look-into-the-future stare while Sorority Chick followed me into the parlor. I learned early in this business that people are highly impressed when I read them without knowing their names. They think it shows off my sixth sense. The real reason is much simpler: I have a hard time remembering. If I just think of the girl in front of me as Sorority Chick, I dont have to remember whether shes Sarah or Emily, Allison or Lily. Okay, so my short-term memory is screwed up, but not having to remember a name makes everything so much easier.

I managed to keep from rolling my eyes as I positioned Chick in our work space. Im not always such a cynic when it comes to clients. True, most of them are college kids just like I will be next year, but for the most part, they dont expect a Psychic Reader to be psychic. Theyre just out to drop twenty bucks on some fun, usually with a couple of pals tagging along. I try to talk the tag-alongs into getting a reading of their own, and Im good at it. When were talking dollars, three times twenty is better than one times twenty, right? Thats part of the reason my moms Aunt Betty took me on as a sort-of partner; Ive watched her for years and picked up a sense for how to make this business work.

Let me hurry to add that Chico Statethats Cal State University in Chico, a.k.a. The Party Schoolhas some cool sororities, ones that encourage the girls to work, study, and learn. Other groups of back-stabbing sisters seem to exist solely to provide easy entertainment for frat guys and to humiliate one another. All the kids who grow up in Chico hear the stories. As we reached our senior year, some of my classmates started talking about the groups they might pledge if they went to Chico State. No respectable girl wanted to join the skanky sororities, but the gullible little bottle-blonde who now sat across the table belonged to exactly that kind. That made her reading easier.

I began with her as I usually do, by reading her aura. I have the subject stand against a light-colored walltheres a space in the sage green parlor that Betty and I painted in Rock Candy White for just this purposeand then I study the light around her body, and especially around her head. Dont freak out when I tell you this, but Ive always seen peoples auras. Sometimes I have to focus hard to see them, and sometimes they just jump out at me, especially when theyre bright (the auras, I mean, not necessarily the people). I have a weird sensitivity to light, the same thing that gives me a migraine if I get a sudden bright glare in my eyes. Nothing paranormal about it.