Never think ill of the dead. That was one ofmy rules – one of the few moral laws I hadn’t whittled away overthe past few years.
The guy obviously couldn't pick up myexpression, because hecontinued shaking his head in sad commiseration. “Your grandmotherwas an incredible woman.”
“She was?” I asked before I could shut my stupidmouth. “Ah – how didyou know her?” I quicklychanged the subject as I brought my hand up and rubbed my armdistractedly.
Aiya, I was cold. To the bone. That's what happens whenyou spend the night sopping wet on a couch. As soon as I wasfinished with this guy, I had every intention of finding the bathin this megalithic house and crawling into it for the rest of theday.
“I was a client of hers,”the detective said.
My brow scrunched into a confused line.“Client?”
I had no idea what my grandmother had donefor a living. My father had never told me.
It was Coulson’s turn to look at me with ascrunched brow. “You don't… ah… know what your grandmadid?”
There was something hesitant about the wayhe said it. The first thing that popped into my mind was that oldJoan was a madam of some description. Then again, I doubted awell-kempt detective would admit that to some stranger on theporch.
I shook my head. “I'll be honest with you– it came as a complete surprise to me that she left this house tome. She hated me.”
Crap – overshare! Complete and utter overshare. I'dalready told myself on the plane trip over that if I met any ofJoan’s friends, I’d pretend to be the dutiful grandchild. Iwouldn't let on that she'd been one of the hardest women I'd evermet. I wouldn't let on that she’d pushed my parentsaway.
But here I was, the first guy I met in town– a guy who happened to be a detective – and I was blowing mydeepest secret.
His brow knotted and his eyesglimmered with a hint ofsuspicion again. “Really?”
I brought my hands up andwafted them around my face as if I were trying toward off my stupidity. “I mean, I’d only met her a couple of times as a kid,” I clarified with a messy gulpthat saw my throat push against my still-damp collar. “She didn'tget on with my mother, so I never really had that much to do withher.”
The guy relaxed a little. “Still, sorry tohear of your loss. How long are you planning on staying in townfor?”
I had every intention of packing up thishouse, selling all the contents, and putting it on the market assoon as I could, but I didn't really want to tell the earnestdetective that. I pressed a smile over my lips. “I'm not reallysure yet.”
“Give the town a chance to grow on you;you'll be surprised,” hesaid. Then he nodded and smiled. And there it was again. Thatattractiveness I'd seen when I opened the door on him.
It drew me in as I offered a wide smile of my own. “Thanks.And sorry again. Sorry you had tofind out from me.”
“Yeah.” He dropped his gaze, locked a hand on the back of his head,and stared at his polished shoes for a few seconds before offeringone final nod. “See you around,” he said, offering a pause for meto fill in my name.
“Chi.”
His lip half-kinked in confusion.“Chi? That’scurious.”
“Ah, it is?”
“It's the name of her cat,”he clarified as hepointed behindme.
I shifted over my shoulder to see thatgoddamn cat. There it was again, staring at me. Though I usuallygot along well with cats, I'd never been able to see any greatintelligence in them. Sure, they always seemed to know when it wastime to be fed, and they were heat-seeking missiles. But the lookin this small black cat’s eyes was something elseentirely.
Then it struck me – my grandmother hadnamed her cat after me. Did that mean she’d actually known who Iwas?
I shook my head. As if. My grandmother hadprobably named her cat after me to piss off my mother.
I offered the detective another smile.“I'm sorry again.”
He turned to go but stopped. He shifted towards me again, hislips pressed flat in a curious smile. “What did you say you didagain?”
“Ah, I didn't say. I'm a…”I trailed off.
My mother was proud of her fortune-tellingways. Proud that she'd introduced me to kau cim, or chichi sticks, at thetender age of four. Proud I’d fallenback on it after I'd lost my jobs. But I knew full well themajority of people thought fortune tellers were completefakes.
And hey, we were.
I knew some fortune tellers who honestlythought they were helping their patients. Maybethey really could tell the future – or maybe they were just soattuned to people’s emotions that they could offer common-senseadvice that their client would otherwise dismiss.
I was one of those fortune tellers whoknew full well I was screwing my client over. That’s why I referredto them by the transactional term of client,not patient.
Coulson looked at me pointedly as hewaited for me to answer, and I realized with itching disappointmentthat I had to say something.
“So what do you do?”
“Ah, I am… I am… I'm a fortune teller. Youknow, cards and palms and things. I work in a restaurant. As kindof an attraction,I suppose…” I started weaklyand ended even weaker, my voice garbled and allstuck in my throat.
I expected the stiff-lipped detective tolaugh his ass off at me. That, or roll his eyes and walk away. Hedidn't. He offered me another one of those curious smiles. The kindof smile that drew me all the way in and made me wonder what onearth he was thinking.
“Fortune teller, ha? Just like yourgrandmother. In that case…” he trailed off as he fumbled with something in his pocket.He drew it out and handed it to me.
It was his card. I accepted it andlooked fromit to him with a totallyjustified confused expression. “Ah….”
He gestured towards the card. “I used tohire your grandmother regularly. She helped me with a lot of major cases.” He offered a sadsmile. “I’m kind of hoping you can do the same. What’s yournumber?”
I stood there and blinked at him.
My mother always cautioned thatopportunity flies past on the wings of a crane. Catch
