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- Herausgeber: Rainbow Crush
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
When Tucker finds a pair of psychic sunglasses, he’s convinced he can see the future. And The Future is Deadly!
Tucker and his boyfriend are the best in their field. They organize estate sales, using their keen eyes and marketing know-how to earn big bucks for their clients. But when they’re hired to clear out a mysterious gothic manor house, Tucker discovers a set of vintage sunglasses that changes his life forever.
Through their shaded lenses, he sees a murder that has yet to take place. What lengths will he go to in order to keep the victim safe from harm?
Queer Ghost Stories are standalone tales that can be read in any order. Download The Future is Deadly today!
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The Future is Deadly: A Supernatural Sunglasses Story© 2018 by Foxglove Lee
All rights reserved. No part of this bookmay be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design © 2018 Foxglove Lee
First Edition January 2018
The Future is Deadly
A Supernatural Sunglasses Story
Queer Ghost Stories
By Foxglove Lee
Chapter One
“My Aunt Margaret meant a great deal to me,” Nancy-Ann said as she picked up her purse, ready to leave. “You’ll get the best prices possible on all her belongings?”
“Most assuredly,” Tucker told her. He was always super-formal with clients until he got to know them a little better. If he got to know them a little better.
Often their clients were surprised when two black guys in their twenties showed up at the door. Was this some kind of scam? Bait and switch? One client had gone so far as to say, “You didn’t sound black on the phone.” Of course they’d done such a top-notch job, that client had set them up with no fewer than five new leads in a single calendar year, and they were still getting phone calls from people who’d been referred by the man. So you never know.
“Everybody says you’re the best,” Nancy-Ann went on. “You and—Bobo, is it?”
“Boo-Boo,” Tucker corrected her. “Like from Yogi Bear. You remember that cartoon?”
The blond woman laughed, tossing her head back for emphasis. She had lots of crinkly lines around her eyes that made her look older when she was happy than she did when she was sad.
“I remember that cartoon,” she said. “Of course I do. I’m surprised that you remember it. Goodness, I have shoes older than you are, darling.”
Comments about his youth always got Tucker a little huffy, and Nancy-Ann must have noticed the change in his demeanour, because she quickly said, “Boo-Boo—he’s your… your partner, you mentioned?”
“Partner in business, partner in life,” Tucker replied as he walked her to her car. “Been together since we were seventeen.”
“Well, isn’t that nice?” Nancy-Ann said, though her smile seemed a little plastic. “Oh! I almost forgot: I had a spare set of keys made for you so you can come and go as you please.” As she fished them out of her purse, she asked, “You’re sure you’ll be able to organize an entire estate sale in a week? Aunt Margaret had a ton of belongings. There’s so much to sort through. Goodness, I’d be at it forever and a day.”
Tucker shrugged. “This is what we do for a living. We’re experts in our field.”
“No arguments here,” Nancy-Ann said, her smile warming as she opened her car door. “You feel free to call me with any questions you might have. Okay? I mean it, any day, any time. And if I don’t hear from you before the weekend, I’ll at least see you at the sale.”
“We’ll handle your aunt’s belongings with the greatest care and respect,” he assured her.
Nancy-Ann had just started yanking her seatbelt across her chest when that sentiment seemed to hit her head-on. She stopped, staring blankly through the windshield. She then snapped the seatbelt into the clicker and looked up at Tucker.
“Thank you,” she said, looking almost perplexed. “Thank you. I believe you will take care. The greatest care.”
He gave her a slight nod before closing her car door and stepping back. She gave a wave, he gave a wave, and when she backed out of the driveway, Tucker nearly jumped out of his Gucci Ravello derby shoes.
Why did he jump? Because of the lady hanging out by the fence.
On the other side of the fence, that is. Not standing on Aunt Margaret’s lawn. This woman was in her own front yard, both arms folded casually between the tall pickets, both hands crossed on one point, her chin settled quaintly on her knuckles. Head tilted, smiling faintly, eavesdropping shamelessly.
Tucker hadn’t noticed her there while he was chatting with Nancy-Ann. It was like she’d appeared out of thin air.
She had the kind of hair you don’t see too often these days—not on white ladies, that’s for sure. One of those styles that required sleeping with a multitude of curlers attached to one’s head. Gave her an old-fashioned air, making Tucker feel like he was communing directly with someone from the fifties.
Clutching his chest, he said, “Sorry to have jumped, ma’am. I didn’t see you there.”
“Clearing out Margaret’s place, are you?” the neighbour lady pried.
“Yes, yes I am. The name’s Tucker. My partner and I operate a business called Tea and Bee Est [...]
