“I know it sounds crazy, but it really is that simple. You can discern a lot from someone’s clothes, perfume, body language, how their hair looks, their hands, the words they say, the order they put them in. Like, I knew you’d picked up your habit of smoking again because you smelled faintly of cigarette smoke but really strongly of cologne, meaning you were trying to hide it. There was only the slightest trace of tar around your fingernails, not the prominent yellowing of regular smokers, which meant you were either new to the habit or picking it back up after a long time.”
“You got all that when you first met me?” I asked incredulously. For some reason, hearing that the woman’s neurodivergence allowed her to miraculously see what most people ignored seemed far less believable than her actually being psychic. Minds didn’t work like that!
“Why do you think I have clients close their eyes while I do their readings? It’s so I can stare. Really get my look on.”
“So, that’s it, then?” I asked, hoping there wasn’t anything else to completely change my perception of how my life was going. “You see people’s emotions and you’re just really observant?”
“Jeez, when you put it that way, you really take the magic out of being an oracle, you know that?” She rolled her eyes, but her expression quickly grew serious again.
“Again, I’m sorry. I know you have no reason to trust me, but please don’t take me off this case. You don’t even have to talk to me anymore if you don’t want to; I could just do emotional readings over the phone! I just… I know I can help, and I really want to. I don’t want anyone in your family to lose anyone else.”
Her pleas sounded so real but come on, what was I? An idiot? I’d be a fool to trust her. And yet…
“Why the hell would you care about my family at all? Do you even know who us VanMarches are?”
“Well,nowI do, yeah. But it’s not about who you are or how much money or power you have.”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about that fucking drawer! I saw real love there, and I’m gonna be frank, Ibarelysee it between you and your siblings now. You had something beautiful, and now it’s buried under so much shit. It’s just not right, okay?” Suddenly, Cherry was on her feet. “So yeah, I want to help your family get that back, and yeah, I wanna solve this mystery. And part of it is because my brain is justlike that, but the biggest part of it is that it’s the right thing to do.”
I was back to staring at her. How could one woman defy so much logic?
“You can’t possibly care that much about us.”
“But I do! I mean, I didn’t at first. When I first asked to see the scene, all I cared about was continuing my mother’s legacy. I thought I could use you to make connections and ensureHaus de Donmouedidn’t fade into obscurity with my mom’s passing, but that changed. I swear it did. Especially when I saw the nerves from that assassin. That made it all real to me. It wasn’t just a game or fun mystery anymore.”
She sat down suddenly, then reached across the table. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ll say it a million and one times, and I’ll do whatever penance you need, but please,please, let me keep helping you. I know I messed up, but I won’t do it again.”
Logic dictated I should read her the riot act. Reason dictated that I report her to… someone for her scam. Experience told me once a liar, always a liar.
But I didn’t say anything.
A soft meow sounded as a fluffy, white cat sauntered over.
“Hey, Hudson. Bit busy right now.”
The cat did not care, as cats were so often wont to do, and jumped onto the table, headbutting the woman’s arm insistently.
“Sorry,” Cherry said, opening her arms for the animal to primly step into. “She can be a little insistent.”
“It’s in their nature,” I murmured, looking at how the white cat practically blended in with Cherry’s pale pink hair. “My mother loved cats. She grew up with them. Never could convince Father to get one though.”
“Your mother… it was her jewelry in the drawer?”
I nodded. Then, for some reason, I started sharing more. “Her wedding ring, her mating necklace, and her grandmother’s brooch. She wasn’t really into sparkly things—she loved flowers more than gems—but she said the stories of those pieces were far more valuable than any monetary valuation.”
“You miss her.”
Cherry said it so matter-of-factly that I was a bit taken aback.
“Of course I do.”
“No, I mean youmissher. I can see it.” Cherry’s eyes swept over me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what exactly her vision told her. “Do you want me to show you?”
Throat thick, I nodded. She was on her feet again, rustling through a full desk in the corner before returning with a sketchbook and a pack of colored pencils.
“This’ll just take a couple of minutes,” she said, her gaze of blue and green cutting through me. “It won’t be, like, a masterpiece or anything, but I just want you…”