Play the Fool

Informationen zum Autor Lina Chern Klappentext "A cynical tarot card reader seeks to uncover the truth about her friend's mysterious death in this delightfully clever whodunit. For Katie True, a keen gut and quick wit are just tools of the trade. After a failed attempt at adulting in Chicago, she's back in the suburbs living a bit too close to her overbearing parents, jumping from one dead-end job to the next, and flipping through her tarot deck for guidance. Then along comes Marley. Mysterious, worldly, and comfortable in her own skin, Marley takes a job at the mall where Katie peddles Russian tchotchkes. The two just get each other. Marley doesn't try to fix Katie's life or pretend to be someone she's not, and Katie thinks that with Marley's friendship she just might make it through this rough patch after all. So one day, having been encouraged by Marley to practice soothsaying, Katie reads tarot for someone who stumbles into her shop. But when she sneaks a glance at his phone, she finds more than just clairvoyant intel. She finds a photo. Of Marley. With a gunshot wound to the head. The bottom falls out of Katie's world. Her best friend is dead? Who killed her? She quickly realizes there are some things her tarot cards can't foresee, and she must put her razor-sharp instincts to the ultimate test. But the truth has deadly consequences, and Katie's recklessness lands her in the crossfire of a threat she never saw coming. Now Katie must use her street smarts and her inner Strength card to solve Marley's murder-or risk losing everything"-- Leseprobe 1 I always knew Marley would disappear. We worked across from each other at the Deerpath Shopping Center, me at the Russian knickknack place and her at the goth boutique, where she rang up anarchy T-­shirts for tweens in five-­hundred-­dollar Nikes. She was a lot like me­smart enough to get the hell out of Lake Terrace once she grew up, but dumb enough to come back. For how long, I didn't know. She put out a chill bloom-­where-­you're-­planted vibe but always looked like she was watching the exits, marking the days until she could peel out and leave Lake Terrace in the rearview. When she did disappear, it didn't go down how I expected. The guy who set the whole thing off walked into Firebird Imports on a Sunday, the deadest day of the week and consequently the only time my boss, Larissa, trusted me to run the place alone. Less for me to screw up. I was laying out a three-­card tarot spread when the store's heavy glass door slammed open. I jerked up. He was plastered against the inside of the door, breathing hard and staring out into the mall­a weight-­lifter-­looking guy with a bristly haircut on a blocky head, a faded Gold's Gym T-­shirt, and jogger sweats. He spun toward me and I froze, hands on the cards. There was an angry red gash on the man's forehead. A low warning throbbed in my mind. Are you­ Do you need­ He took a stumbling step into the store and collided with a sign reading 60% off all musical spoons. The sign bowled over and he floundered after it, hooking it with his arm before it hit the ground. He looked like he was tangoing with a beautiful lady who had been, alas, enchanted into a piece of advertising. A squeaky honk flew out of me, part dimwit guffaw, part concerned oh! The guy jiggled the sign back into place. I glanced across the mall court: was Marley watching this? At Stone Blossom, the alternative lifestyle boutique where Marley worked, a pale mope in a Black Flag T-­shirt slouched at the counter. No Marley. I hadn't seen her all day. Do you need a tissue? I pointed to my own forehead. Or an ambulance or something? My eyes slid to my phone. The low-­charge light was blinking, as usual. I didn't have extra cash lying around for new tech toys, so I plundered my brother's castoffs. By the time they reached me, their best days were far behind ...

Autorentext

Lina Chern

Klappentext

WINNER OF THE MARY HIGGINS CLARK* AWARD • A cynical tarot card reader seeks to uncover the truth about her friend’s mysterious death in this delightfully clever whodunit, “a delicious blend of suspense and madcap humor” (Library Journal,* starred review).

For Katie True, a keen gut and quick wit are just tools of the trade. After a failed attempt at adulting in Chicago, she’s back in the suburbs living a bit too close to her overbearing parents, jumping from one dead-end job to the next, and flipping through her tarot deck for guidance. Then along comes Marley.

Mysterious, worldly, and comfortable in her own skin, Marley takes a job at the mall where Katie peddles Russian tchotchkes. The two just get each other. Marley doesn’t try to fix Katie’s life or pretend to be someone she’s not, and Katie thinks that with Marley’s friendship, she just might make it through this rough patch after all. Until the day when Katie, having been encouraged by Marley to practice soothsaying, reads the cards for someone who stumbles into her shop. But when she sneaks a glance at his phone, she finds more than intel to improve her clairvoyance. She finds a photo. Of Marley. With a gunshot wound to the head.

The bottom falls out of Katie’s world. Her best friend is dead? Who killed her? She quickly realizes there are some things her tarot cards can’t foresee, and she must put her razor-sharp instincts to the ultimate test. But Katie’s recklessness lands her in the crossfire of a threat she never saw coming. Now she must use her street smarts and her inner Strength card to solve Marley’s murder—or risk losing everything.

Leseprobe
1

I always knew Marley would disappear. We worked across from each other at the Deerpath Shopping Center, me at the Russian knickknack place and her at the goth boutique, where she rang up anarchy T-­shirts for tweens in five-­hundred-­dollar Nikes. She was a lot like me ­smart enough to get the hell out of Lake Terrace once she grew up, but dumb enough to come back. For how long, I didn t know. She put out a chill bloom-­where-­you re-­planted vibe but always looked like she was watching the exits, marking the days until she could peel out and leave Lake Terrace in the rearview.

When she did disappear, it didn t go down how I expected.

The guy who set the whole thing off walked into Firebird Imports on a Sunday, the deadest day of the week and consequently the only time my boss, Larissa, trusted me to run the place alone. Less for me to screw up. I was laying out a three-­card tarot spread when the store s heavy glass door slammed open.

I jerked up. He was plastered against the inside of the door, breathing hard and staring out into the mall ­a weight-­lifter-­looking guy with a bristly haircut on a blocky head, a faded Gold s Gym T-­shirt, and jogger sweats. He spun toward me and I froze, hands on the cards. There was an angry red gash on the man s forehead.

A low warning throbbed in my mind. Are you ­ Do you need ­

He took a stumbling step into the store and collided with a sign reading 60% off all musical spoons. The sign bowled over and he floundered after it, hooking it with his arm before it hit the ground. He looked like he was tangoing with a beautiful lady who had been, alas, enchanted into a piece of advertising.

A squeaky honk flew out of me, part dimwit guffaw, part concerned oh! The guy jiggled the sign back into place. I glanced across the mall court: was Marley watching this? At Stone Blossom, the alternative lifestyle boutique where Marley worked, a pale mope in a Black Flag T-­shirt slouched at the counter. No Marley. I hadn t seen her all day.

Do you need a tissue? I pointed to my own forehead. Or an ambulance or something? My eyes slid to my phone. The low-­charge light was blinking, as usual. I didn t have extra cash lying around for new tech toys, so I plundered my brother s castoffs. By…