Hits & Mrs.

by Karen Stollznow

  She tapped away on her laptop and it didn’t take her long to find the leak. She swung around her laptop to show Kate what she’d found.

  “Here’s a public profile showing that the cologne is on your wish list. I guess he bought a bottle of it and sprayed it during your reading to convince you that Alex was in the room.”

  Kate’s eyes were wide with shock.

  “Well, that explains why I could smell it on Gil’s neck.”

  Claudia frowned.

  “…On Gil’s neck?”

  Kate blushed.

  “Yes…”

  “What do you mean?” Claudia prodded.

  Kate hung her head in shame.

  “Um…After my reading we…ended up in bed together. But it’s not as bad as that sounds. I thought I was having sex with my husband!”

  Claudia spat a mouthful of foamy cappuccino across the table.

  “He told you that?”

  “Yes,” Kate admitted. “Gil said that he could channel Alex because his spirit wanted to use his body to be able to touch me again. It sounds so… silly… now, but at the time it made sense. I was lonely and desperate. Afterwards he acted like he had no memory of what had happened.”

  Kate’s face was burning red with embarrassment while Claudia’s face burned red with anger.

  “I feel like such a fool,” Kate whispered.

  “Don’t feel that way,” said Claudia firmly. “Gil is a skilled conman. He took advantage of your vulnerability, your loneliness, and your grief.”

  “I have no excuse,” said Kate. “It was obvious when we were having sex that it wasn’t my husband. His…technique was different.”

  The customers at the next table fell silent.

  Claudia winced as she tried to find a way to understand Kate’s reasoning.

  “I suppose what he said made sense in its context,” she said.

  “And I believed him.”

  Kate started to cry softly and Claudia placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder.

  “The desire to believe is a powerful one,” she said. “For some people, it’s easier to continue believing in psychic powers than to believe that they’ve been deceived.”

  Kate shook her head in frustration.

  “Gil goes all out to fool his clients,” she said.

  “He does,” agreed Claudia. “He has a good understanding of what his clients want, and giving it to them is worth it to him to get what he wants. Psychics tell clients what they want to hear. That keeps them coming back for more.”

  Kate continued to provide juicy gossip for the customers at the next table.

  “I’m sure this is way too much information for you, but the sex was wonderful,” she said wistfully. Claudia knew this from personal experience, although now the thought made her cringe. “At the time the romance reminded me of our, of my, wedding night, but now my memories are blurred.”

  A tear sprung up in Claudia’s eye.

  “I lost my father eight years ago,” she said quietly. “So I have great empathy for people who are experiencing loss and grief. When a loved one dies, all that we have left of them are memories. That’s why I used to expose these crooks. They’re exploiting people’s pain and destroying their precious memories.”

  Kate grabbed yet another refill of coffee. Her hands shook each time she lifted the cup to her mouth for a drink.

  “Your explanations makes perfect sense to me, now that I’m in my right mind,” she said. “The only part of the reading I can’t seem to explain are the names Gil used for me during sex. He called me “Sugarplum” and “Baby” just like Alex did…”

  “…Which are common pet names for a lover,” Claudia interrupted.

  “That’s true,” Kate agreed. “But he also called me Katherine. No one ever calls me that. Not even my parents when I was a kid and they were angry with me!”

  “Did you divulge anything about special names you and Alex had for each other?” Claudia asked.

  Kate thought about it carefully.

  “Yes, I did! I accidentally let slip that I called Alex by his full name, Alexander, when the two of us were intimate.”

  “Then Gil probably guessed, incorrectly, that Alex also called you by your full name when you were intimate,” Claudia assumed.

  “Hmm… Then that was a clever guess, but wrong,” said Kate. “Calling me by a name I never use was the only mistake Gil made.”

  “That’s the problem for psychics when they do cold readings,” said Claudia. “The rare times that the client also pays attention to the misses…”

  The two women stared vacantly out the window at people walking past the coffee shop.

  “I think you need to go to the police immediately,” Claudia advised.

  “Yeah, right,” Kate scoffed. “What would I say to them? That I paid Gil for a psychic reading and we ended up having sex because I thought he was my husband? That sounds crazy.”

  “Kate, he had sex with you under false pretenses and then he duped you out of your money. If you want, I’ll go with you to the police station to report the incident,” Claudia offered.

  “I can’t,” Kate said. “I’m too embarrassed. I feel like it’s partly my fault. No one would believe my story. I just want it to be over. Please…” she said with pleading eyes.

  Kate was talking like a classic victim of abuse, but Claudia didn’t want to push her after her ordeal.

  “I won’t force you to do anything,” Claudia promised.

  “Thank you,” Kate said with a sigh of relief.

  “But… what do you want me to do about this?”

  Kate looked her dead in the eye.

  “I want you to expose him…”

  Chapter 10

  Claudia scanned the restaurant in Corte Madera looking for a woman with a copy of Gil’s latest book. This was the sign for her to identify Abby Cooper. She knew the woman had been a porn star, but she hadn’t seen any of her movies.

  Not that watching her movies would help me recognize her face, thought Claudia.

  She approached a woman who was reading a well-worn copy of Messages From The Other Side although Claudia quickly discovered that this wasn’t Abby but a devoted fan of Gil’s who wanted to talk about how much she loved the psychic medium.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Claudia said to herself. With the woman’s blue hair, crocheted scarf and clip-on earrings she didn’t look like an ex-porn star anyway, but you never can tell nowadays.

  Claudia spun around and spotted a woman who did look like an ex-porn star; her silver ankh earrings jangling, among other things, as she waved her copy of Gil’s book in the air. Abby was a Goth girl in her early twenties who wore too much makeup and too few clothes. Claudia wouldn’t have otherwise known who she was, but she could see that quite a few men in the restaurant recognized her...

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Abby said with a hint of desperation in her voice. “I need to speak with you about Gil Godsend.”

  “Not on an empty stomach,” replied Claudia as she sat down at the table. “Let’s grab something to eat and then we can talk about him.”

  They scoured the menu. It was the kind of restaurant where the portions are so small you’d have to find somewhere to eat afterwards.

  The server came over to take their orders. Abby decided on a kale salad and Claudia chose a quinoa stir-fry.

  “Good choices!” praised the server awkwardly, as though she was trained to say this to all of her customers regardless of their order. Then she spied Gil’s book on the table. “Oh, my God! I can’t wait to read that book! I LOVE Gil Godsend!” she gushed.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Claudia muttered to herself.

  The server’s tip had just lowered drastically.

  When the food arrived, Abby picked at her kale salad unenthusiastically, as people do, but she drank several glasses of white wine enthusiastically.

  Then the conversation turned to Gil.

  “So, you had a psychic reading wit
h Gil Godsend?” Claudia asked.

  “Yes, it was at his home a few weeks ago,” Abby explained. She took a swig of wine, leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Look, I’ve read your articles about him and I know you’re skeptical about psychics, but Gil knew some very specific information about me,” she said. “He knew that my husband’s name was Mark. He described what he looked like precisely. He knew that he had a lip piercing. He knew that he wore a black leather jacket that I sleep in at night. He knew that Mark had a scar from a motorcycle crash and that he died in a similar accident. He even knew some of my… embarrassing secrets. How could he possibly know these things if he wasn’t psychic?” she asked.

  Abby took another gulp of wine, then sat back in her chair and folded her arms, well, as much as she could. She was convinced that there was no logical answer to her question.

  Claudia raised an eyebrow.

  “But did Gil also know that you’re the daughter and only child of Wendy and Scott Nelson?” she asked in her best gypsy voice. “Did he know that your father met your mother at a club where she worked as a stripper? Did Gil know that when you were sixteen you fell in love with your dentist? He promised to leave his wife and three kids for you, but the bastard never did… You had to learn at an early age that abortion is not an appropriate form of birth control… In junior high you feigned stomach cramps to get out of algebra class but the doctors in the emergency ward discovered that your appendix was about to burst… To make extra money you once sold your used panties online... You drive a canary yellow Mazda Mx-5 Miata that a client bought for you during your stint as a BDSM mistress... You drink butterscotch schnapps and after four shots you’re anybody’s... You were vegetarian for a year until an indiscretion with a lamb shawarma… And you wear a nipple ring and have monthly Brazilian waxes…”

  Now it was Claudia’s turn to sit back in her chair and fold her arms wearing a smug expression on her face.

  Abby’s eyes were wide.

  “How do you know all of those things about me? Are you psychic too?” she asked.

  Claudia was completely po-faced.

  “I know these things because I read your blog,” she answered drily.

  Abby had forgotten about her old website, I Need A Little Discipline. She hadn’t visited it in several years. In fact, she hadn’t updated the site since Mark’s death. With a sinking feeling she realized that all of the gossip that both Claudia and Gil had on her was available on that blog.

  She guzzled down her wine and ordered another glass.

  “I think Gil researched you before your appointment,” Claudia said. “This is called a hot reading. He cheated. Psychics tell you things that you already know. They never tell you anything you don’t know.”

  “Well, actually, Gil did tell me things I didn’t know,” Abby countered. “He said that Mark had a tattoo of a girl’s name on his ankle. The name began with a “P”. I told Gil he was wrong but he insisted I ask Mark’s relatives about it. I checked with his grandmother and she told me that he’d once had “Paige”, the name of his high school girlfriend, tattooed onto his forearm. His parents found out and they were fuming! They forced him to have laser removal. How did Gil know this if he’s not psychic?” she demanded.

  “Tattoos are common,” said Claudia. “If Mark had a body piercing it’s likely he had a tattoo too. Gil took a gamble. If he were wrong you’d probably just forget about his miss, but if he was right, then he takes the credit. Anyway, he was wrong about where the tattoo was on Mark’s body. You said it was on his forearm, not his ankle, but you’ve ignored Gil’s mistake.”

  Abby thought about this for a while.

  “It was just a guess?” she asked. “How could it be that simple?”

  “Have you ever seen those TV shows where magicians reveal the secrets behind their tricks?” Claudia asked.

  “Yeah,” Abby said. “I once saw this amazing trick where a woman in a box was sawn in half. Then the magician showed how he did it. It turns out there were two women in the box, not one,” she said with an unimpressed expression on her face. “Suddenly the trick wasn’t so amazing.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Claudia. “Knowing how the trick is done ruins the magic. The explanations behind magicians’ tricks are usually mundane. Gil is really a kind of magician too, but he’s less honest about his deception than other magicians are…”

  Abby hailed down their server and ordered a bottle of wine.

  “What about his biography?” she asked. “Gil’s life story is pretty amazing.”

  Claudia snorted.

  “That book is a farce,” she said. “21 Days With Gil Godsend should have been called “21 Days in Bed With Gil Godsend”. The author, Gem Forrest, was a groupie he picked up at one of his live shows. He invited her back to his place on the pretext that he needed an author to write his biography. Instead of talking about the project they fucked each other’s brains out. Gem stayed at Gil’s house for three entire weeks, which was a record-breaking relationship for him, until he finally got bored of her and booted her out. As she was being ushered out the door she cried out, “What about the book?” Gil said to her, “Write whatever you want to write. Make it good.” Then he threatened to sue her if she said anything negative. He silences his critics with lawsuits. He’s very litigious. Kind of like the Scientologists.”

  Abby still wanted to believe.

  “Gil doesn’t have a gift?” she asked as she swilled another glass of wine.

  “Oh, he has a gift alright. The gift of bullshit,” said Claudia. “Gil Godsend isn’t even his real name. Nor is Gil Faulkner. He was born with the plain old name Gilbert James Smith. He doesn’t have an Aunt Tillie who schooled him in the occult and became his spirit guide. In fact, he doesn’t even have an aunt, that I know of. He didn’t have a twin brother named Will who died of pneumonia at six months of age, but he has an older sister who’s very much alive. His parents are divorced and he’s not estranged from them, or at least he’s not estranged from his mother. I’ve met Sue Smith and she’s a really nice lady. She’s very well off. I don’t know much about his father, but no one does. I think he’s a doctor of some kind who lives overseas.”

  Abby was staring at her, wide-eyed, so Claudia continued.

  “Gil never worked as a psychic on the streets of Berkeley,” she revealed. “He did live there for a few years, but as a psychology student living on campus at the University of California, Berkeley. He had a substantial slush fund from his mother, which he spent mostly on his cocaine addiction. He wasn’t diagnosed with schizophrenia and he was never committed to a mental institution. Instead, he spent eight weeks detoxing in a clinic in Malibu. It was one of those luxury rehabilitation clinics where they do meditation, massage, yoga, and horseback riding. He enjoyed the whole experience so much that he relapsed. Twice. He’s a spoiled brat and a momma’s boy. That biography was written to create a cult of personality surrounding the fictional character Gil Godsend…and it did.”

  “None of it’s true?” Abby asked as she poured herself yet another glass of wine.

  “It’s mostly fabrication.”

  Abby looked like someone had just told her that Santa Claus doesn’t exist.

  But the book was critical of Claudia. Perhaps she just hated Gil.

  “Gil did host a radio and television show,” Abby corrected her.

  “That’s true,” Claudia conceded. “He’s also written lots of books. I think he did grow up on a farm although he hates strawberry rhubarb pie. He did work for a psychic fair and he lived with that TV psychic Celeste Stone for a while. She’s the one that gave him a taste for fine food, fast cars, and widows.”

  Abby winced.

  “Oh, and he was probably sleeping with his art teacher and the maid,” Claudia added.

  At least there was some truth to the book, Abby thought in relief. She needed Gil’s psychic powers to be real. If he wasn’t psychic then it meant that she was…

  “In your email you said that somet
hing weird and scary happened to you after the session. What did you mean by that?” Claudia asked with a frown.

  Abby took a slug of wine and leaned in so close that Claudia could smell the booze on her breath as she spoke.

  “Gil knew that my husband and I were into… kinky sex,” she whispered. “He also knew that I had… a rape fantasy. If you’re right then he knew these things because he read about them on my blog...” Abby paused. “He said I need to be careful what I wish for.”

  It seemed like advice at the time but in hindsight it sounded like a threat. Her eyes welled up with tears and her voice started shaking.

  “When I was leaving he predicted that I’d finally get what I’ve been wanting…”

  Claudia turned pale. She knew what was coming.

  “…As I opened his door to leave he blocked my exit. He barked at me, “You’re not going anywhere,” and he slammed the door shut.” Abby broke down and cried. “He forced himself on me…twice. At first I thought I was having sex with my husband.”

  Claudia recalled that Kate had said the same thing.

  “I thought he’d taken over Gil’s body so we could fulfill our fantasy together. But then he did things my husband would never do, and he didn’t respond to our safe word. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t,” she sobbed.

  Claudia reached over and touched her arm gently.

  “In our wrestling we broke his antique lamp and ruined his fancy rug,” said Abby.

  Now that behavior didn’t sound like Gil at all, Claudia thought. He loved his antiques.

  “Then Gil passed out. When he came to he couldn’t remember anything that had happened,” Abby said between gulps of wine.

  Again, Claudia remembered that Kate had said the same thing.

  “Gil thought he’d had a psychic seizure because he’d been possessed,” Abby wept. “Maybe it’s true. He kissed me and said, “Goodbye, Angel,” just like my husband used to do before he went to work every day… I just don’t know what to believe anymore…”

  A thought struck her and she opened her eyes and mouth wide in horror.