Genre Fiction
![Lina Chern - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B0BKJYNW4L.jpg)
Play the Fool: A Mystery
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.
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.
Editorial Reviews
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 the time they reached me, their best days were far behind them.
The guy flinched like he'd already forgotten I was there. A red splotch crawled down his temple and landed-plop-on his shirt. "I'm fine," he said hoarsely and disappeared in the jungle of display racks at the front of the store. I craned my neck after him. At least if he stole something, I could tell Larissa a pi...
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 the time they reached me, their best days were far behind them.
The guy flinched like he'd already forgotten I was there. A red splotch crawled down his temple and landed-plop-on his shirt. "I'm fine," he said hoarsely and disappeared in the jungle of display racks at the front of the store. I craned my neck after him. At least if he stole something, I could tell Larissa a pi...
Readers Top Reviews
J. Sunday
Tarot cards is a brilliant way to bring some nervousness from the unknown into the life of a game: to find out what’s hidden. Lina Chern managed to do this as if we were right there waiting for our cards to be read. This is a fast-paced complex whodunit narrated by the main character, Katie. When I think of the name “Katie,” my mind goes to a sweet, pretty girl who owns a bakery or bookstore. The Katie in the book was not like my image. She was bold, brave and fearless trying to solve a mystery of why her fairly new friend was now dead. Katie worked at a Russian knickknack store in an old shopping mall. She instantly became friends with Marley who worked in a store across from her. Katie said that all kinds of people would come into the shop: people asking where the restroom was, looking for t-shirts and then there was Nico. He stumbled in with his head bleeding which didn’t look good. He noticed she had tarot cards and asked how much. He put a $20 bill along with his phone on the table and went to the restroom to clean up. While he was gone, she looked at his last text which was a photo of her friend, Marley. To her surprise, she was dead. Katie was good at reading the cards and making people believe what she had to say. When she told him someone died, he said, “I didn’t mean for her to die.” From that point on, Katie was on a mission to find out what happened to Marley. Her Aunt Rosie taught her how to read cards when she was eight years old. She was told, “You can know things with more than just your brain.” Katie knew that some people think in words or images. She always was thinking with tarot cards. While she was chasing the idea of finding out why her friend was dead, she would think about how different cards in the deck were influencing what was going on. There were times when I laughed out loud from her dialogue. All the characters in this book worked: her family, her good friend, the criminals and the detective that looked like romance was brewing. They were all brought together in a way that made this a page turner. Even when parts were a tad unbelievable, it was all fine. The end was good. It made me smile which made all the difference staying up late to finish it.
Jess
Play the Fool is an original mystery novel starring Katie True. Katie True is a tarot card reading working in a Russian store. Katie reads people as much as she does the cards. She believes she’s found a true friend in fellow mall worker Marley. But a bloody schmuck stumbles into the shop and Katie sneaks a look at his phone before she reads his cards. The phone has evidence that Marley was murdered so Katie sets up to find the real killer with a little help from her new friend a bored homicide detective. Twists and turns keep you guessing until the end in this action packed, danger filled mystery. My voluntary, unbiased review is based upon a review copy from NetGalley.
kathleen g
Katie's in her late 20s and she's never been able to settle into anything but she's finally found a friend in Marley. Except that Marley has disappeared and Katie's seen a photo which indicates that she is dead. With a bullet hole in her head. Except that the police don't find her body and, it seems, Marley doesn't exist. But Marley's boyfriend Dom does (he's the one with the photo on his phone) and then Jamie, a sad detective, believes her. They set off on a quest to find out the truth about Marley, dodging danger along the way. I gotta admit I liked this for Katie, an inveterate tarot card reader who becomes the most dogged of investigators. Her neurodiverse brother Will, a graduate student, is a hoot and her sister Jessica does have a bigger heart than she wants to show. And Jamie, who left LA to come to this small town outside Chicago. Chern has cleverly left clues along the way that I know I missed until Katie herself realized they were there. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. A very good read.
MaddiePaula
3.5 This was a different kind of mystery/thriller book and I actually really enjoyed it. I actually really loved the physic/ tarot cards in this book. This book kept me hooked from the start. I was a little nervous to read this one because it sounded a little strange. But I would suggest this one.
Short Excerpt Teaser
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 the time they reached me, their best days were far behind them.
The guy flinched like he'd already forgotten I was there. A red splotch crawled down his temple and landed-plop-on his shirt. "I'm fine," he said hoarsely and disappeared in the jungle of display racks at the front of the store. I craned my neck after him. At least if he stole something, I could tell Larissa a piece of merchandise had made it out of here today. He picked up a lacquered box and stared at it with glassy eyes. "Just looking around."
Shocker. Everyone was always just looking around. Earlier, a guy came in looking for a Cubs jersey, and I had to inform him, reading off our perfectly visible sign, that we sold only "fine goods from Russia and Eastern Europe." Then a mom came in with three kids and a screaming baby, looking for a bathroom. I pointed her to the family one out in the mall, where someone had Sharpied a set of anatomically correct genitals on the dad icon.
"Suit yourself." I sat down and swept the loose cards into the deck. I pegged this guy for a Cup, but a sloppy, backassward one, awash in reversed Swords. All emotion, no control. He'd probably just gotten in a parking lot shoving match with some other muscle-head over a dinged-up Jeep. In my head, I was already telling Marley about him. We'd been hanging out every Sunday night after our shifts for the past two months, in a tiny courtyard off the emptying forty-year-old white stone hulk of the mall. We talked while she smoked her unfiltered cigarettes, lighting up the dark with tiny fireballs. She was older than me by ten years or so, a tall, lean bruiser of a woman watching me from behind a wall of crimson-streaked hair, black eyeliner, and silver jewelry. The kind of look I'd always toyed with but never had the stones to pull off. She was my best friend, if you can call someone you've known only two months your best friend. It helped not to have any other friends. We were like rare specimens of some exotic breed of loser.
"Anybody actually buy this junk?" Gym Guy's thick voice burst through my thoughts. He picked up a miniature balalaika and twanged its strings.
I did a quick mental tally of the bathroom family. "We just had six customers in here before you." This guy was breaking all of Larissa's rules: touching stuff, loitering, wearing sweats as regular clot...
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 the time they reached me, their best days were far behind them.
The guy flinched like he'd already forgotten I was there. A red splotch crawled down his temple and landed-plop-on his shirt. "I'm fine," he said hoarsely and disappeared in the jungle of display racks at the front of the store. I craned my neck after him. At least if he stole something, I could tell Larissa a piece of merchandise had made it out of here today. He picked up a lacquered box and stared at it with glassy eyes. "Just looking around."
Shocker. Everyone was always just looking around. Earlier, a guy came in looking for a Cubs jersey, and I had to inform him, reading off our perfectly visible sign, that we sold only "fine goods from Russia and Eastern Europe." Then a mom came in with three kids and a screaming baby, looking for a bathroom. I pointed her to the family one out in the mall, where someone had Sharpied a set of anatomically correct genitals on the dad icon.
"Suit yourself." I sat down and swept the loose cards into the deck. I pegged this guy for a Cup, but a sloppy, backassward one, awash in reversed Swords. All emotion, no control. He'd probably just gotten in a parking lot shoving match with some other muscle-head over a dinged-up Jeep. In my head, I was already telling Marley about him. We'd been hanging out every Sunday night after our shifts for the past two months, in a tiny courtyard off the emptying forty-year-old white stone hulk of the mall. We talked while she smoked her unfiltered cigarettes, lighting up the dark with tiny fireballs. She was older than me by ten years or so, a tall, lean bruiser of a woman watching me from behind a wall of crimson-streaked hair, black eyeliner, and silver jewelry. The kind of look I'd always toyed with but never had the stones to pull off. She was my best friend, if you can call someone you've known only two months your best friend. It helped not to have any other friends. We were like rare specimens of some exotic breed of loser.
"Anybody actually buy this junk?" Gym Guy's thick voice burst through my thoughts. He picked up a miniature balalaika and twanged its strings.
I did a quick mental tally of the bathroom family. "We just had six customers in here before you." This guy was breaking all of Larissa's rules: touching stuff, loitering, wearing sweats as regular clot...
