Ten tried to keep the frown he was feeling off his face. “I don’t have any readings on the books for the rest of the day.”
“This person just walked in and I don’t think they’re here for a reading, at least not for themselves.”
“Carson, what are you talking about?” Ten studied his friend for a few seconds and felt a strange vibe coming off him. “Who is this person?”
“You’re not going to believe this. I didn’t either at first. I’ll go get her.” Carson hurried out of the office.
“What the hell is going on with Carson?” Cope asked, walking back into the office. “His aura feels strange.”
Ten had been thinking the same thing. “He said there was a walk-in customer who needs to see me, but there seems to be a bit more to it than that. Will you sit in with us? I have a feeling two heads are definitely going to be better than one here.”
Cope nodded and took the seat next to Tennyson at the table.
“Here we are, Laura,” Carson ushered a middle aged woman into the room. She was dressed in mom jeans and a flannel shirtwhich looked like it had been brand new during the Clinton administration. In the woman’s arms was a black box that looked like it was made of plastic. A sticker with an airplane logo was affixed to the upper left corner. “This is Tennyson Grimm, and another of our psychics, Cope Forbes.”
“Thanks, Carson.” Laura set the box on the table and shook hands with the psychics.
Carson shot Ten a strange look before he backed out of the room and shut the door behind him. “How can we help you?” Ten took a moment to read the woman and nearly burst out laughing. Her mind was spinning over her discovery and how it was going to make her the talk of the Clifton Park Book Club. She imagined the jealous looks on the other ladies faces and the way they’d clutch their proverbial pearls when she told her harrowing story. What the hell was going on here?
Laura took a minute to settle herself at the table. She took a deep breath and set her sights on Tennyson. “Mr. Grimm you are not going to believe the story I’m about to tell you. Maybe we should call the media to do a press conference? I’d need a different shirt for that. I look like a lumberjack.”
As Laura continued to go on and on about her outfit, the state of her makeup and her hair, which really could use a trim and blonde highlights, Ten was reading the woman. She was over the moon excited by the prospect of being on television. She wasn’t only interested in being on the local Boston stations, but thought this story would go national, landing her a spot as a contestant onBig Brother,Survivor, and several other reality shows. Ten had no idea what was in the box and frankly couldn’t wait to find out. “Let’s hear the story first and then we can decide if getting the media involved is the right move for you.”
“Yes, that’s a good plan. I can call my hairdresser as soon as we’ve talked.” Laura sat up straighter in her seat. “I had a baby six months ago. I’ve been trying to take the baby weight off.”
Ten simply nodded. He knew better than to weigh in on the topic of a woman’s weight. Pun intended.
“You wouldn’t believe the things you can learn about your neighbors from their trash, recycling, and donations. Just last week Mary Knowles put out bags of clothes to be donated. They were her F-A-T clothes. I’ve seen that woman inhale a cheesecake from across the room and the last thing she needs is to be getting rid of those sizes. She’s on the weight loss shots now, but I’ve heard that the weight all comes right back when you stop taking it. Of course it does. One needs to exercise self-control in order to maintain a healthy weight.”
It was on the tip of Ten’s tongue to mention what the self-professed Queen of Self-Control had for dinner last night, a double quarter pounder with cheese, fries and two apple pies, then went on to have a bag of microwave popcorn and several fun-sized candy bars she’d originally bought for Trick or Treaters. He wisely decided to stay quiet and let the woman continue to ramble on.
“Where does the box come into play?” Cope asked. Ten could tell his friend was upset that their free time was slipping away over this woman who sounded as if she had all day to sit and gossip about her neighbors’ trash.
“Well,” Laura began, her blue eyes flashing. “I was out for my walk this morning. Monday’s are trash day in my neighborhood. I walked by a house a few blocks over. I don’t know who lives there, whoever it is doesn’t come to our book club meetings, even though we put invitations inallthe mailboxes for a half-mile radius. Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet, right?”
“Exactly,” Ten said, agreeing with the woman. He had a feeling the reason the woman in question hadn’t decided to join the book club was because she knew the kind of neighbor Laura was. She wasn’t interested in turning strangers into friends, Laura was interested in their gossip, plain and simple. The dirtier the laundry, the better.
“Anyway, there was a lot of trash in front of this person’s house. Clothes that had that old lady funk to them, not to mention they looked like something out of Victorian London. There were boxes of photographs, most in black and white. Cat toys and food, which of course made me wonder what happened to the kitties. We must protect those less fortunate than us.” She turned to Ten expectantly.
“Yes, we need to protect cats,” Ten said, trying to keep a straight face. He wasn’t laughing at the ideas that animals needed human protectors, but at the fact that this woman had been sitting at the table for ten minutes and he still had no earthly idea why she was here or what he could to for her.
“Speaking of protecting those less fortunate than us,” Laura said.
Ten’s raised his hopes that she was finally about to get to the meat of the conversation.
“Can you believe someone left this perfectly good box out for the trash men?” Laura tapped the top of it.
The box sounded solid. It was about the size of a mailbox people hung on the house near the front door. The kind with a weatherproof lid that keeps the mail dry in the rain and snow. “I’m glad that you’re the kind of woman who sees the value inthings that people cast aside, but I’m not sure why an empty plastic box necessitated a trip to West Side Magick.”
“You don’t know what’s in here?” Laura asked, narrowing her eyes on Tennyson. “You’re a psychic, Mr. Grimm, aren’t you supposed toknowthese things?” She looked absolutely delighted that she might have just proved Ten to be a fraud.
It took all of Ten’s self-control not to burst out laughing. “Unfortunately, my gift can’t penetrate plastic. Superman can’t see through lead and my Kryptonite is plastic.”
Cope let out a startled noise, turning it into a cough. Ten, playing along, patted his back. “Sorry, choking on my own spit. Happens all the time.” He turned to Laura. “I’m surprised that a smart and obviously well-read woman like yourself didn’t know about our problem with plastic. It’s well documented. I think it was even written up in theJournal of Parapsychology.”
Laura turned her nose up at Cope. “My issue must have gotten lost in the mail.” The woman rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Tennyson. “The box is not empty, Mr. Grimm.”
“Okay, so what’s in it?” Ten’s patience was starting to slip away. He was almost at the point where he didn’t care what the hell was in box.
