by Mike Omer
Bernard considered this. “How, then?”
“Walk out, and drop it on your way—act like it fell out of your pocket.”
“Okay, fine.” Bernard shrugged. He strode toward the exit, casually dropping the bills, which fluttered to the floor.
The old woman darted with agility that would have put a twenty-year-old to shame, snatching the bills from the floor, cackling in delight.
“Excuse me, madam, that’s mine!” Alex said.
“No, it isn’t!” the woman said. “I found it first. Get back, you hoodlum!”
Bernard left the gallery, the echoes of the snitch and the hag shouting at each other quickly fading away.
Loretta Chinmayi lit another cigarette. It was the eighth one since she had woken up, and it was shaping up to be another full-pack day. She really wasn’t doing so well in her resolution to cut back. It was easy enough to say she would. Six cigarettes per day sounded just right—two in the morning, one at noon, two in the afternoon, and one in the evening. Easy, right?
But that didn’t include the “smoke one when you open the electricity bill” cigarette, nor did it include the “smoke two when a client cancels a session.” Don’t get her started on the “too bored, nothing on TV” cigarettes. Also, there were the “nightly anxiety” cigarettes, but those didn’t count, because she smoked them after she went to bed.
What she really needed was a lucky break. Maybe she’d land a celebrity client who would tweet about her. Or one of her blog posts about reading would go viral. She’d seen it happen to others. Once she got a steady stream of customers, she could stop doing readings on Fiverr, and she’d definitely stop those wedding gigs—she just couldn’t stomach those. And then she’d cut back on her smoking.
A knock on the door interrupted her daydreaming. She put out the cigarette in her overflowing ashtray and went to see who it was. She hoped for a random client who had seen the sign and decided to find out what the future held. She peeked through the peephole.
They didn’t look like clients. The man was African American, and was tall and wide enough to nearly block the entire view, muscles bulging underneath his gray shirt. A short woman with frazzled brown hair and sharp-looking eyes stood by the man’s side. For a moment, Loretta almost pretended as if she wasn’t home, but these could be clients. She wouldn’t get far by ignoring potential clients when they literally knocked on her door.
“Yes?” she said.
“Hi,” the man said, smiling. “Are you Loretta Chinmayi? The psychic?”
“That’s right,” Loretta said suspiciously.
“I was passing by when I noticed the sign… are you doing readings?”
“Yes, I am,” Loretta said, opening the door.
“Are you available to do one right now?”
“I… yes, you’re in luck, I just had a cancellation. I charge forty-five dollars for a basic spread, but I give new clients a twenty-dollar discount. If you want to do a thorough reading, that’s a hundred and twenty dollars for a whole hour.”
“Oh, awesome!” The man clapped his hands and rubbed his palms, his smile widening. He turned to his friend. “Isn’t this great? This psychic looks so much better than that other fraud.” His friend nodded, her face blank.
“What fraud?” Loretta asked.
“Oh, never mind—we went to this different reader, but she was clearly just making it all up.”
“So you want a reading right now? Please, come in!”
She led them to the living room, where she read for clients. They looked around, taking in the numerous candles, the crystals on the table and the dresser, the intricate carpet and drapes on the windows.
Loretta sat down on her chair and motioned at the sofa. “Please, sit down. Can I offer you anything to drink?”
“No need,” the man said. “I’m so glad you were available!”
Loretta nodded, smiling. She liked this man’s enthusiasm. His friend was a completely different sort, her face serious, eyes intense. Loretta found herself uncomfortable under the woman’s stare and concentrated on the cards, shuffling them. She tried to relax, clearing her head for the reading. It was difficult, with the severe woman sitting there like a judging sphinx. Loretta focused on the man, who was sitting back comfortably, looking around him with interest, an excited spark in his eye. He had a beautiful face, she noticed; lean and strong, his cheeks shaved smooth, and dark, rich hair. Perfect eye candy.
“Okay,” Loretta said. “What’s your name?”
“Oh,” he said. “Can’t you like… tell from the cards?”
“Uh…” Loretta panicked. Should she try to guess? No, that was insane! “I mean… the cards are—”
“I’m kidding!” The man laughed. He had the most charming, rich laugh. He leaned forward, touching Loretta’s arm. His palm was warm, and Loretta’s wrist tingled at the touch. “I’m just fooling around.”
“Oh,” Loretta said, blushing. “Of course!”
“My name is Bernard,” he said.
“Okay, Bernard,” Loretta said. “What do you want to ask the cards?”
“About my future love life, of course.” He grinned at her mischievously. “Does anyone ever ask anything else?”
“Well, that’s a very common question,” Loretta said, but then hurriedly added, “but every case is unique, of course.”
“Of course,” Bernard said. “My mom used to say each of us is a unique and beautiful snowflake. Isn’t that right, Hannah? Do you feel like a unique snowflake?”
“Sometimes,” the woman said, her voice terse.
“So… what does my future love life entail?” Bernard asked, eyes sparkling. “Am I going to meet my soulmate soon?”
“Let’s see,” Loretta said. Bernard was sweet. Loretta had a weakness for tall men, and he had such a joyful aura. “Cut the deck, please, with your left hand.”
He did as she said. Loretta began drawing the cards, spreading them carefully.
“Okay,” she said. “There’s a woman…” She hesitated. The cards spoke of someone he knew well. “Uh… someone you’ve known for quite a long time?”
Bernard’s eyes widened. “Really? Do the cards tell you what she looks like? Because I know a lot of people.” He then pointed at Hannah and mouthed, Is it her?
Hannah pursed her lips, rolling her eyes.
“The cards don’t say,” Loretta said, embarrassed. “But I’m pretty sure it’s not… uh… your friend here.”
“Your loss, Hannah,” Bernard said, and elbowed his friend. She looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“I see a lot of chaos in the cards,” Loretta said. “A lot of tension. Something in your life is getting in the way between you and the woman.”
“Uh-huh,” Bernard said. “But is she the one?”
Loretta looked at the cards. They were unclear, but there were several cards pointing at deceit. Was this woman deceiving Bernard? Was he deceiving himself? Loretta didn’t usually see so much dishonesty in one spread.
“No,” she finally said. “She’s not the one.”
“Oh.” Bernard’s face fell.
“But you’ll meet another woman!” Loretta said, trying to think fast. How could she describe herself without appearing obvious? “A… spiritual woman. With a deep, mystic aura.” Bernard’s eyes widened, and she decided to add, “And brown hair.” Her own hair was rich brown. Surely he’d see the connection.
“Is she my… soulmate?” he asked, leaning forward. He was incredibly close, and Loretta could smell him. She felt dizzy, a warmth spreading in her stomach.
“She might be,” she said. “If… if you show some initiative. If you take the opportunity when presented.”
“Hannah, did you hear that? My soulmate! Right around the corner! Oh, this woman is the real thing, not like that fraud, Mune.”
This jolted Loretta. “Jacqueline Mune?” she said.
“Yes, do you know her? Oh no, is she your friend?”
“Absolutely not,” Loretta sa
id. “I’ve simply heard of her. I didn’t hear very good things.”
“She was terrible!” Bernard said. “She said all I cared about was my job, that I’m terrible at relationships, and I would probably never find the right woman. Can you believe that?”
“I’ve really heard abysmal things about her,” Loretta said happily. This was the best day ever. “I don’t think she has the skill to read, quite frankly.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t.” Bernard looked enraged as he recalled the woman. “I was so furious! I just couldn’t calm down. Even Hannah couldn’t console me!”
Loretta couldn’t imagine the angry-looking woman consoling anyone, ever, but said nothing.
“She made me so mad!” Bernard said. “No one’s ever hurt me like that before. I almost wish something bad would happen to her. I mean… I don’t usually want people hurt, but she’s walking around, pretending to be someone she’s not, and it’s affecting people’s lives, you know?”
Loretta felt excited. Should she tell him? “What if… what if something bad already happened to her?” she asked.
Bernard looked at her in surprise. “Like what?”
“What if someone decided that she deserved to be hurt like she hurt other people?”
“Are you talking about you?” Bernard whispered, a look of respect on his face. “Did you… do anything to her?”
“Maybe,” Loretta said, smiling at the beautiful man. “She was doing so much harm.”
“So what did you do?” Bernard asked, breathing hard.
“There are things I cannot say,” Loretta said.
He leaned forward, his face only inches from hers. “Please,” he said softly. “Tell me.”
Loretta nearly blurted the truth then, shivering in excitement, but managed to control herself. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really can’t divulge anything about it. But I promise you, she got what she deserved.”
Something strange happened. The thrilled, enchanted look washed away from Bernard’s face, replaced with an intense, angry stare. His eyes flashed. “Two bullets to the chest?” he asked. His voice had changed as well. It was suddenly sharp. Cold. “Is that what she deserved?”
“What?” Loretta stared at him, aghast.
“When did you decide to kill her, Loretta? What did she do? Steal a few of your customers?”
“She… I mean… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Hannah drew something from her pocket. A badge. Loretta’s heart sank. Deceit. The cards had tried to warn her.
“We have a witness who saw you arguing with the victim,” Hannah said. “Screaming at her that she stole your clients. You came by again this morning, didn’t you? We can find your prints, your DNA. You think you cleaned up after yourself? You have no idea, Loretta. You have no idea the amount of evidence we retrieved. You’re going down.”
“Listen, I wasn’t there this morning—”
Hannah’s fist smashed on the table. “Where were you, then?” she asked, her voice ringing sharply in the room.
“I don’t know! I had some errands!” Loretta squawked, clinging to her chair.
“You decided to hurt Jacqueline Mune? Hurt an innocent woman just because she was better than you?”
“I… I…”
“What did you do? We already know, we know everything, Loretta! Do you want me to tell you what you did? Do you really want me to say it? You better start talking, or I’ll make you talk!” Hannah’s voice was pure steel, unrelenting. The woman’s green eyes darkened and she stood up, tense and angry, her jaw clenching tight. Loretta had never faced a woman like this before and had no idea what she was about to do.
“Okay!” she shrieked. “I did hurt her! I’m sorry! I was upset!”
“You were upset?” Bernard said. “Is that what you call it? You shot a woman to death, Loretta!”
“What?” Loretta stared at him, terrified. “Shot? I… I never shot anyone! I don’t even know how to use a gun!”
“Then what did you do to her?” Hannah asked, practically snarling.
“I… I put a curse on her. I wasn’t thinking straight, I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so mad, and… and…”
“You… put a curse on her?” Bernard asked.
“Yes. You’re right, I did go and talk to her some time ago. She kept stealing my clients! After I went to see her, I came back home, and I cast a spell. I feel really terrible about it, and I know I shouldn’t have, but…”
“What kind of spell?” Bernard asked. He looked perplexed.
“Just a basic curse. But I didn’t shoot her! I mean… maybe it happened because of my curse, but it was only supposed to give her nightmares, maybe some bad luck, nothing this horrible. I didn’t think it could do something like that. Wait… did you say this morning? I was at the bank this morning! I was there for over an hour, between eight and nine. They have security cameras in the bank, right? And the clerk, the clerk could identify me.”
Bernard and Hannah glanced at each other. Loretta’s palms were sweaty, and she felt like she was about to burst into tears. She tried to take a deep breath, to relax, but couldn’t.
“Don’t leave town,” Bernard said, getting up.
“What?”
“We might still have questions for you. Don’t leave town.”
“You… you’re not arresting me?”
“It’s not against the law to put a curse on someone,” Hannah said. “Maybe it should be, but it isn’t.”
“It’s… it’s not?”
“Frankly,” Bernard said, “if you really believed that the curse would cause bad luck and nightmares, casting it on someone is really messed up.”
“Yes,” Loretta said, exhaling in relief. “You’re very right. I’ll never do it again, I swear. Jacqueline… she’s dead?”
Ignoring her, they turned and left the room.
Chapter Five
Ginny Mune’s home was on Cedar Road, a quiet street in the southern part of town. The front yard was tiny, no more than a rug-sized patch of grass separating the sidewalk from the house, but this small green patch was well-tended and dotted with small shrubberies and flowers. The house itself was white, freshly painted, with several windows looking out on the street. All the windows were meticulously clean.
“I’ll take the lead on this one,” Bernard said.
Hannah nodded. “Sure.”
He smiled at her. She had been fantastic during Loretta’s interrogation, playing the tough cop, a role usually performed by him, quite flawlessly. He crossed the tiny path that led to the front door, and knocked. There was a glass door pane, and through it he could see a well-lit corridor. After a few seconds, a woman came down the hallway, took a cursory look at both of them, and opened the door.
“You’re the detectives, right?” she said. Her face was blotchy and red—she had clearly been crying very recently. She was dressed in a black skirt and white shirt, her blond hair tied back, not a single strand loose. “I’m Ginny. Come in.”
Bernard followed her to a small, charming white kitchen. A young woman, no more than twenty-five, sat at a white wooden table, eating a small sandwich. “Hello,” she said, her voice wavering, as if she was on the verge of crying.
“This is my daughter,” Ginny said. “Valerie.”
“Val is fine,” Valerie said. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed like her mother’s. She was a soft, beautiful version of Ginny, her hair golden and curly, her face delicate, its beauty hardly marred by her tears. She wore a loose T-shirt with a print of a unicorn smoking a cigar.
“I’m Detective Bernard Gladwin,” Bernard said. “And this is Detective Hannah Shor.”
“You’re in charge of my aunt’s investigation?” Val asked. “Soph called earlier. She said you’d probably show up.”
“That’s us,” Bernard said. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Yeah, well…” Ginny said, her voice sharp and angry. “If the police had done their job and cleaned up that neighbor
hood, my sister would still be alive. So thanks for at least taking the time to notice her now that she’s dead.”
“Mom…” Val said.
“I told her over and over that she had to get out of that house,” Ginny said, her voice bitter.
“With what money, Mom? Do you think she could buy a new house from the money she made with her tarot readings?”
“I would have paid for it! She knew I would.”
Bernard cleared his throat. “Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?”
“Of course,” Ginny said. “My niece tells me that I’m the prime suspect, because I had an argument with her. I’m so glad you’re on the case, Detective.”
“We just want to rule you out,” Hannah said gently. “So that when we get the guy, he won’t be able to squirm his way out in court by saying that the police haven’t investigated the case properly.”
“Well… okay,” Ginny said. Her demeanor softened slightly as Hannah spoke. Bernard noticed it and knew that Hannah did as well. The partners shifted their intended roles without communicating, both aware that Hannah was the better person to ask questions in this case.
“Mrs. Mune, where were you this morning?” Hannah asked.
“In my office,” Ginny said. “I got there around seven thirty.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“The secretary, the cleaning man, the man in the parking lot and one of my associates,” she said. “I’ll give you a list with names and phone numbers before you leave.” She seemed tired and deflated; there was no challenge or smugness in her tone. Bernard could understand her. Assuming she really wasn’t the murderer, she was just mourning for her sister, feeling like the police were wasting their time on her.
“When was the last time you saw your sister?” Hannah asked.
“Three days ago,” she said, and took out a pack of cigarettes, already fishing one out.
“Mom,” Val snapped. “You promised!”
“Sorry, hon, you’re right,” Ginny said and returned the pack back into her pocket. “I came by her house.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I don’t know. Just general stuff.”