Death Returns Read online

  DEATH

  RETURNS

  Book 3

  The Death Card Series

  By

  J.S. Peck

  BEJEWELED PUBLISHING

  LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, public or private institutions, corporations, towns, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems with- out permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages (up to 500 words) in a review. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

  Bejeweled Publishing

  6480 Annie Oakley Drive, Suite 513

  Las Vegas, Nevada 89120

  ISBN: 978-0-9824607-5-7

  First Edition: June 2019

  Copyright @ 2019 Joan S. Peck

  All rights reserved

  COVER ART DESIGN: Kelly A. Martin

  INTERNAL DESIGN: Jake Naylor

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate the entire Death Card series to my talent- ed sister, Judith Keim, who has taken time away from her successful authoring to help and support me.

  “You have been the wind beneath my wings by believing in me and my talent for writing mysteries. When I’ve been in doubt, all I’ve had to do was pick up the phone, and you’d patiently share pieces of advice and encouragement. I honor and love you as my twin sister—I’m forever grateful.”

  Table of Contents

  Part 1 - Santa Fe

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  Part 2 - Las Vegas

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  DEATH

  RETURNS

  Part 1

  Santa Fe

  CHAPTER 1

  “When will our plane be here?” Isabella asked in excitement as we stood in the middle of the airport.

  “Soon, sweetheart. It shouldn’t be too long now.”

  I was here with the oldest of four little girls who were to have been auctioned off at the Purple Passion Lounge as part of their human trafficking scheme. She’d become attached to me when I helped them escape, and had taken to calling me Mama because she wanted me to be her new mother. However, that was not going to happen for all sorts of reasons, which she had a hard time understanding.

  It had been Jacklyn from the agency handling human trafficking who had reached out to me with a special request. They had found some of Isabella’s relatives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. They couldn’t afford to come to Las Vegas to pick her up, and she refused to go there unless I went with her. The agency’s job was to reunite children with their relatives to provide them a family of their own people. They’d asked if I would be willing to take her to Santa Fe to meet her relatives despite it being unconventional.

  I had agreed to what they’d asked—with one condition. If I found that Santa Fe was not a good situation for Isabella, I wanted to be able to bring her back to Las Vegas. Since her own parents had refused to take her back, I wasn’t about to simply leave her defenseless with a bunch of strangers. Jacklyn and I’d agreed we’d cross that bridge if and when we came to it. The bigger problem was that as an intuitive, I didn’t feel good about anything we were headed to.

  As I looked around, I had to smile, because I didn’t know who was more excited about going to Santa Fe— Isabella, me, or my dog. I could feel eyes on us. We probably looked like a motley threesome. Isabella, even at the age of 11, turned heads with her Mexican beauty—light coffee skin; dark, silky hair; and shining black eyes over a smile as wide as her face. She was petite and when she held Sweet Pea in her arms, I could barely see her behind the dog.

  I, on the other hand, probably looked like the nervous wreck I was with my uncontrollable long hair flying around my face, now creased with worry. I hadn’t been able to reach Mike, the new love in my life, to tell him of my sudden change in plans. I was frustrated by how many times I’d tried to reach him to no avail. Of course, that was part of his being a private detective on assignment—not always available when I’d like. Now that Mike and I were developing our relationship in a more romantic way, I knew he’d worry if he discovered I’d left Las Vegas without his knowing where I was. Ever since we’d done investigative work together, he had become very protective of me. Although I didn’t feel I needed his protection, it was easier to just let him know what was happening.

  I felt someone at my elbow and looked to see a rather large woman pointing at Isabella. “Are you her mother?” the woman asked.

  I said “No” at the same time Isabella said “Yes.” The woman looked confused. “Yes,” I amended, not wanting to get in a public disagreement with Isabella. “Why?”

  “Mexicans and dogs aren’t allowed on the airplane.”

  I looked at her in disbelief.

  “Ah, there you are, Mabel,” a voice behind me said with relief. Once he saw my face, he said, “Oh no. What did she say?”

  “Something very rude, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m so sorry. Please don’t mind her. She has Alzheimer’s and often says the most bizarre things. I hope she hasn’t offended you.”

  “Just my daughter and my dog,” I said, annoyed. I looked at Isabella, who wore such a pleased expression on her face that I was puzzled. I reached out and patted the man’s arm. “It’s okay, really. I know you have your hands full.”

  “Thanks for understanding. C’mon Mabel, they’re calling our flight.” They headed toward their gate.

  I turned to Isabella, grinning from ear to ear. “What?” I asked.

  “You told that man I was your daughter, Mama.”

  “No, I didn’t, honey.”

  “
Yes, you did. You said, ‘Just my daughter and my dog.’”

  I thought about what she’d said and realized I’d said exactly that without thinking. “Oh my, Isabella.” I gave her a hug and whispered, “But you know that’s not true. You know we’re here together so I can take you to Santa Fe to meet your family, right?”

  “I know,” she said sadly, lowering her head.

  As I turned away, my huge Dooney & Bourke traveling purse fell off my shoulder and landed with a thud, scattering some of its contents. My tarot cards spilled, and there it was—the Death card on top—a sign for me that there was going to be an upcoming murder or death of someone I knew or would soon meet.

  “Give it a rest,” I mumbled. Still, the card sat there, waiting for me to pick it up. Again, a feeling that Santa Fe held more in store for us than simply meeting Isabella’s family came over me. With a sigh, I collected and stuffed everything back inside my bag. Our flight was called, so we tucked Sweet Pea into her carrier and boarded with the others traveling first class.

  Once in the plane, I explained to Isabella we’d land in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where we’d spend the night. Then we’d rent a car the next morning and drive the hour or so north to Santa Fe. “Oh, Mama, I’m so excited! I’ve never been on an airplane before!” I decided not to scold for her calling me Mama. It would be a waste of time, anyway.

  “Mama, am I going to see Indians in Santa Fe? Real, live Indians?”

  “Yes, Isabella, I bet you will. Here, let’s Google all about them on my iPhone and see what we can find out.”

  Isabella looked at me with stars in her eyes. “Okay.”

  I did my magic, and she hung on my shoulder as I read aloud, “Of the 19 Native American communities in New Mexico, eight are near Santa Fe. All eight are Pueblo Indian tribes, and their communities are referred to as pueblos.”

  “Can we visit a pueblo, Mama?”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” I answered, pleased by her curiosity yet disturbed by a sudden fear that washed over me. I had a vision of me standing on a cliff, calling out for Isabella. Goosebumps ran up and down my body and made me shiver. What were we getting ourselves into?

  It was a short flight, and before we knew it, we were wheels down, ready to land in Albuquerque. It was a beautiful city and we headed to the Hyatt Place Albuquerque Airport Hotel and settled in our room because it was too late to wander around the city.

  “Oh, Mama, this room is so pretty. Look outside and see all the lights.”

  It tickled me to watch Isabella run and jump on the bed with Sweet Pea. When they heard the knock on the door announcing our food, both hopped off. Her eyes as big as saucers, Isabella watched the server roll in the tray table loaded with plates with silver covers to keep the food warm. She became entranced by someone in uniform pulling out her chair and serving her. I had to smile. I was sure she’d want more of this kind of attention in the future.

  After dinner, we took Sweet Pea for the final walk of the day. Then, I readied Isabella for bed and tucked her into the queen bed closest to the bathroom. Sweet Pea snuggled next to her.

  I picked up the local newspaper to read in silence while Isabella nodded off. As I perused the pages of the newspaper, I saw an article about a murder in Santa Fe. As I read the story, goosebumps rippled across my entire body. I felt this murder was somehow tied to Isabella and me, but how? The thought wouldn’t leave me, so I tore out that page and tucked it in my purse.

  I wondered about the status of Isabella’s family. Were they U.S. citizens or immigrants “protected” under Santa Fe’s sanctuary policies? Would that be a problem for Isabella when she was there as a visitor? Would she need a visa or have to apply for a green card? How was this all going to work out? I’d have to check with the agency to find out how they’d handled other cases because I wasn’t sure what would be best for her.

  I changed into my pajamas and climbed into the other bed. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep, so I was surprised to wake up eight hours later to face a dancing little girl with Sweet Pea in her arms. I opened my arms. “C’mon girls, climb into bed for a hug before we begin our day, okay?”

  Isabella settled in next to me and looked at me with brooding eyes. “Mama?”

  “Yes, sweetie, what is it?”

  “I don’t want to live with anyone else. I don’t even know those people and I don’t like them.”

  “Now, Isabella, how can you say you don’t like them until you’ve met them? That’s what we call being prejudiced—when we prejudge someone by making a decision about them before you even meet them. Do you follow what I’m saying?”

  “Yes, Mama, but I still don’t want to live with them.”

  “Well, let’s just take one step at a time. We’re going to meet them tomorrow for a short visit, and we’ll see what happens, okay?”

  “Okaaay.” Doubt in her voice.

  “Who wants to take a swim in the hotel pool?”

  “I do!” shouted Isabella, pulling on my arm. “C’mon, Mama, let’s go!”

  Even though I didn’t particularly like swimming in a public pool, I was happy to do so for Isabella’s sake. She jumped into the shallow end like a pro and bobbed up and down with excitement. She looked at me with pride. “Watch what I can do, Mama,” and with that, she dunked her whole head underwater. She jumped up quickly and pushed the hair out of her eyes. She laughed. “Can you do that?”

  I chuckled. “Not with this hair. We’d never get to Santa Fe.”

  Without hesitation, she nodded in agreement, wearing a wide smile.

  After we showered and dressed, we nibbled on the freebie breakfast muffin and drank our juice before we dashed back upstairs to get our baggage and check out. We were excited about driving north to Santa Fe to see what awaited us.

  CHAPTER 2

  When we left Route 25 and headed into Santa Fe, the outskirts seemed like those of any small city anywhere until we came closer to the center. Stucco adobe houses in natural earth tones seemed to pop out of nowhere and turned the area into a magical fairyland. Isabella rolled down her window and leaned out. “Mama, I don’t see any Indians. Where are they?”

  “Remember, they live in their own pueblo, so we’ll have to go there to see them. We will, I promise you.”

  “Sometime soon, okay?”

  I pulled over to the side of the road to look at the map I had gotten at the rest area to find the best way to our hotel. We were going to stay at the Eldorado Hotel & Spa for a few days. I had called a real estate agency and inquired about whether there was a house I could rent for a month—it would be less costly than staying at the hotel. Happily, we were going to meet with the agent the next day.

  As the valet helped me out of the car and began to remove our bags from the trunk, Isabella stood tall and marched through the door the other valet held open for her. She looked like a little princess and had the assurance of one in all her swagger. I chuckled to myself and then wondered if I had opened Pandora’s Box by bringing her here.

  It was a beautiful day with a cloudless blue sky. The air was refreshing and much purer than in Las Vegas. After checking in, we headed down San Francisco Street, which led into the historic Santa Fe Plaza in the center of the small downtown. Isabella made the short journey longer by stopping to peer into each shop window along the way. She marveled at the displays of clothing and jewelry and then turned to me with a smile, pointing out one piece or another. I knew how she felt because there were so many stunning items to see—particularly the Indian jewelry, which stood out with its turquoise stones and beads.

  When we finally reached the Historic Plaza, I looked at my walking map and searched out the Palace of the Governors. There, Native Americans were allowed to line up against the wall to sell their wares under the portico. As we headed there, I explained to Isabella what we were going to see. “As a special treat, you may pick out a pie
ce of jewelry. I’m sure there’ll be a lot to choose from, so take your time to look at everything before you decide, okay?”

  “Oh, yes, Mama, I will. C’mon Sweet Pea, let’s hurry.”

  The Indians came into view where I expected them to be. I felt a lump in my throat and my eyes watered. There was something about being close to any Native American that made me feel as if I’d arrived home. I must have lived as one in a past life. Isabella ran ahead with no trepidation and began her search at the far end of the line. I smiled as she talked to each vendor and picked up a piece of jewelry or two.

  I felt eyes on me, and I looked to find a person, whom I guessed was the oldest seller there, staring at me. She beckoned me forward with an outstretched hand and her fingers dancing. As I moved closer, her toothless smile widened. Knowing it’d be hard for her to rise, I knelt in front of her. She reached out and touched my cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped. “You’ve returned home, my daughter, haven’t you?”

  I looked deep into her eyes. “Yes.”

  “What have you brought us?” the wise woman asked as she eyed Isabella headed our way.

  “A very special little girl, Grandmother,” I answered with the traditional formality of speaking to an elder. “We are here to meet her family.”

  The wise woman looked at me intently and started to say something, but stopped as Isabella neared. When Isabella saw me kneeling in front of the older woman, she stepped forward and knelt beside me.

  “C’mon here, child, and let me look at you,” the older woman commanded.

  Isabella immediately obeyed and knee-walked forward. Isabella traced Grandmother’s face. “Mama, her skin is the same color as mine. Her eyes too.”

  “Call her Grandmother, Isabella, as a formality, all right?”