Parker And The Gypsy by Susan Carroll Read Free Book Online Page A

of old-moneyed charm. Like a gaggle of ladies wearing bonnets, almost every shop front was adorned with one of those prissy awnings, except for—
    Mike slammed on the brakes, staring through his windshield • at the store set midway down the block. Instead of an awning, its doorway was overhung by a huge mechanical eye, winking open and closed, the Plasticine lashes drifting coyly up and down. Beneath this device dangled a sign announcing the store’s name in bright red letters. The Omniscent Eye. Then in small print, New Age Bookstore.
    And Mike had been wondering how difficult it was going to be to find Sara Holyfield. As he studied the sign, a slow grin spread over his face. He didn’t realize he was holding up traffic until a horn blared loudly behind him.
    â€œAll right, all right,” Mike groused.
    Easing his car into the nearest parking space, Mike got out, fed some change into the meter and then sauntered down the sidewalk for a closer inspection of Sara’s shop front. While the monster eye whirred merrily over his head, Mike couldn’t help chuckling to himself. He was able to imagine what a stir Sara’s advertising device must be creating with her nearest neighbors, a petite sizes boutique where Mike could see a snooty blonde working behind the counter, and on the other side an antique “emporium” complete with bay window. Mike liked Sara all the better for what must be her defiance of the local awning-and-swirly-sign dress code.
    Ducking down, Mike paused to check his reflection in the shop glass, wetting his fingers and slicking down a stray cowlick of hair. Reaching for the handle, he pushed open the door.
    As he entered the store, a symphony of chimes tinkled, but the noise was almost lost in the other sounds that swirled around him—watt speakers pouring forth the sounds of pattering rain, birdcalls and chittering monkeys. The illusion of having strayed into some kind of tropical rain forest was helped by the fact that plants littered the surface of counters, fronds and ferns everywhere, green waxy-looking leaves sprouting lush and exotic flowers.
    Although small and cramped with merchandise, Sara’s shop seemed somehow cool and soothing after the bustle of summer traffic outside. The place smelled of books and some subtle fragrant incense. As the door eased softly shut behind him, Mike caught himself glancing around.
    Shelves lined with texts promised to help him with everything, from thinking himself thin to channeling his past lives. Crowding the aisle were displays of tarot cards, herbal remedies, incense stacked like cinnamon sticks in glass jars, meditation tapes and CDs. Mike didn’t bother looking closer at those. Somehow he doubted he would find familiar musical groups tucked in among them.
    Flicking one finger over a weird-looking goddess incense burner, Mike pulled a wry face. He supposed someone must buy this stuff considering some of the things his old man had been able to palm off on unsuspecting marks.
    But thinking about his father was only sure to darken his day and Mike was in a reasonably good mood for once. He didn’t want to spoil it, so he was quick to shunt all thoughts of Robert Parker aside.
    Edging cautiously past a stand filled with scented candles, he nearly bumped his head against some sort of circular rope hanging adorned with feathers, the sort of thing that could have been woven by a demented spider.
    He was beginning to feel a little like the Alice kid who’d jumped down a manhole or something only to find herself alone in some kind of strange wonderland. The shop seemed deserted. But at the back of the store, he saw a doorway hung with a beaded curtain.
    He headed for it and found the glass counter display of crystals and silver jewelry. An old-fashioned cash register that would make a satisfying ring when recording a sale sat on the well-polished surface.
    Behind the counter, perched on a stool, her head bent over a