Entering the room the Reel PIs crew had been assigned to set up their equipment, Sam found Cait, hands fisted on her hips. Besides Booger, Mina, and Clayton, another woman stood in the row with the wannabe film crew facing Cait.
At his approach, Cait glanced over her shoulder. “We have a psychic,” she said, her voice deadpanned.
Sam’s lips tightened in irritation. The investigation was already a circus.
“Madame Xavier is here to walk the hall and pick up any bad vibes.”
The portly woman straightened her shoulders and lifted her double chins. “I’m here to communicate with the dead.”
Cait rolled her eyes.
“She’s got loads of experience with police investigations,” Clayton said, his words tumbling in an excited rush. “We’re lucky she was free to help on such short notice.”
Cait’s thin smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, we’re so lucky,” she said, her tone remarkably even. “However, I would recommend you not enter the last hallway.”
“The point of conflux?” Madame Xavier nodded. “Being wary is wise when there’s the possibility of a demonic possession. So much more powerful than any ordinary ghost.”
Cait’s eyes widened.
The woman whose shoulders would have looked good on a linebacker returned Cait’s thin smile, a hint of challenge in her bright hazel gaze.
Cait returned her stare, then murmured, “Maybe we can use you after all.”
The woman nodded, her teased-high, carrot-red hair bouncing. “Perhaps we should talk privately.”
“Let me grab my handheld camera,” Mina said quickly.
Cait speared the younger woman with a glare. “Ground rules, Mina. When I need to talk to someone about confidential details of the investigation, you have to let us speak alone. I promise there will be plenty to film later.”
Mina’s lips pressed into a straight line. “Fine. We have to tune our equipment anyway.”
As Cait led the way, Sam stood aside. He gave Clayton a warning glare to stay in place and then followed the two women into the hallway.
Cait eyed the woman curiously. “You said demonic possession.”
The older woman gave a dramatic shiver. “I felt it. Smelled the vague scent of sulfur when I walked through the front door. Didn’t you?”
Cait didn’t seem surprised that the woman addressed her as an equal. “Not until I was poking my head into the wall where the first body was found.”
“I’ve had experience with spirits and demons. Not all the cases I help the police with have involved human monsters.” Madame Xavier’s gaze studied Cait, her eyes squinting a bit as she did so. “So many dark colors around you, dear.”
“You reading my aura?” Her body stiffened.
Sam pressed his lips together at the note of affront in Cait’s voice. She acted as though the woman had lifted her skirt to peek at her underwear.
The psychic’s expression softened. “You’re not very accepting of anything metaphysical, are you?”
“I’m not… I don’t have a problem…” She finished sputtering, then simply scowled. “No.”
“And yet you have powers I’d give anything to possess.” She raised a penciled eyebrow and stared as though trying to see inside Cait. “I’m just a psychic, not a witch.”
Cait’s face tightened. “I’m just a PI.”
“So you say. But so many violent colors surround you. Dull red and orange, edged with black. I’d worry more about your nature, but there is blue as well.” Her gaze narrowed. “You are searching for truths. Perhaps for answers?”
Cait shook her head. “All I want to know is who to pin the murders on. If you can help with that, I can handle the rest.”
“Unfortunately, my sight is rarely so clear.” A shoulder shrugged. “I can divine clues. Pick up on energies. But I can be useful.”
“What do you propose?”
“I must do a cleansing, then cloak myself and anyone else who accompanies me as I search the floor.”
“That would be me.”
Madame Xavier nodded, squinting again and training her gaze along the outer edges of Cait’s frame. “I sense you’ve already worked a little protective shield of your own. That’s good. What I will do won’t be nearly as powerful. There’s white light radiating through all your murky colors.”
Cait inhaled, and Sam sensed her impatience with the woo-woo language. Despite being the real deal, Cait preferred to keep things ordinary, tangible. Something he appreciated, because all this talk of auras and energies was still a little hard to swallow without his gut churning.
“The techs should be done shortly,” he said. “As soon as I sign off, we’ll have access to the halls.”
Just as the words were out of his mouth, a man wearing scrubs and paper booties approached with a clipboard. “Detective, we’ve got everything bagged and tagged. I just need a signature.”
Sam reached into a pocket of his jacket for a pen and signed off as the officer in charge of the crime scene.
“Have problems with your plumbing?” the tech asked.
Sam blinked then looked at his pen.
Cait smothered a smile, and raised a brow. He’d swiped her Nick the Plumber pen from her kitchen drawer.
“No, no plumbing problems. Good work.”
As the tech left, Sam glanced around. The Reel PIs crew was crowded together, looking out the doorway.
“We on?” asked Clayton.
Sam nodded. “You can set up the cameras and listening devices, but I’ll want you off the main floor and back in this room as soon as you’re done.”
The crew darted back into the room, their eager chatter growing loud.
Madame Xavier touched Cait’s arm. “I’ve already cleansed and sealed the room to the best of my limited abilities. I sensed nothing dark there.”
“Good,” Cait said, her smile unfeigned this time. “I’ll leave you with Sam,” she said, eyeing him.
He gave a quick nod, thinking his reputation would be in shreds the moment the rest of his team heard about this surveillance. But somehow, he was relieved Cait wouldn’t be without some backup, however inept.
Cait angled her body toward his and glanced up. “I have something I have to attend to. But I’ll be back shortly.”
Sam pulled her a few feet away. “Gonna work that spell?” he asked, dropping his voice.
She gave him a wink. “Yeah, it’s time to see if Sylvia has anything to say.”
11
Jason and Cait sat at a table in the bar, bent over a napkin. The lighting was poor, and her chicken scratch didn’t make it any easier to read the words she’d scribbled.
“I need something that rhymes with
“Seek?”
“Oh, that’s good.” She scratched a couple more lines before pushing the napkin across the table. “What do you think?”
Jason held it to the light to read the spell she’d worked on and then lifted his face to give her a dubious smile.
Cait frowned, blushing, because she knew she sucked at poetry. “The Powers know not to expect anything fancy from me,” she said defensively.
