Chapter 2: Blood on Main Street

She didn’t reply.

After a while, she asked again, “Then what about my child’s future? After I work hard for him, will he have a good life?”

Her questions bounced around. She said she wasn’t here for her son, but then circled right back to him.

And she was weird—talking about killing and dumping bodies. Maybe she was just messing with me. Or maybe she really was off her rocker.

I decided not to get tangled up with her, so I picked a few reassuring lines.

I put on my best fortune teller voice, the one that’s just mysterious and soothing enough to sound convincing.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. Your son’s going to have a bright future.”

I nodded solemnly, like I’d just seen it in the cards.

“That’s great, Finn. I’ll come again tomorrow.” Marlene left in high spirits.

She walked out with a bounce in her step, humming something off-key. I watched her go, still not sure what to make of her.

That night—of course—there was a murder in town.

The victim was a high school girl, and the crime scene was right across the street.

The whole block was alive with sirens and flashing lights. I watched from my window as the cops taped off the entrance, my heart thumping in my chest.

I hung a charm at the door—couldn’t hurt, right? After all, bloodshed’s bad for business.

I’d read somewhere that a horseshoe above the door wards off evil. Superstitious? Maybe. But in my line of work, you don’t mess with luck.

Normally, I’d stay out of this stuff. But thinking about that strange woman from last night, I couldn’t help but go check it out.

Curiosity’s a nasty habit, but sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps you moving.

A crowd had already gathered outside the apartment building.

Neighbors in pajamas, teens filming on their phones, the usual small-town rubberneckers. I elbowed my way in, keeping my head down.

Word was, the murderer hid in the stairwell and, when the victim was distracted with her keys, strangled her right there.

Whispers rippled through the crowd—everyone had a theory. Some blamed a jealous ex, others said it was city crime creeping in. I just listened, piecing things together.

The girl who died was Amy Sun, supposedly the school bully—bossy, did a lot of bad things.

I hadn’t heard of Amy Sun before, but I recognized her mom.

Her mother had a reputation for causing scenes. Last year, she lost her purse in my shop, grabbed my collar, and roughed me up. Now her daughter was dead—who knew what she’d do.

I elbowed my way closer and offered a smoke to the cop at the door. “Hey, officer, any luck catching the killer?”

That’s a city trick—cops loosen up when you hand them a cigarette. He took it, giving me a sideways look.

“Not yet.” He glanced around, took the smoke. “Poor kid, strangled right at her door.”

“Hey, let me ask—was there any incident last Friday? Somebody die or something?”

“Last Friday?” He thought for a second. “Nope. Why, you get a vibe or something?”

“No, no, just curious.” I tried to laugh it off.

So Marlene really was lying.

Look, I’m a fortune teller, not a priest. I don’t have to keep anyone’s secrets. If she really killed someone, why would she tell me?

I tried to shake off the weird feeling she’d left behind. Maybe she was just lonely. Or maybe she was testing me.

Marlene said she’d come yesterday, but she stood me up.

That day, I waited until nine at night and still didn’t see her. Just as I was about to close, the door chime jingled.

I turned around—it was two high school girls. One had a ponytail, the other wore braided pigtails.

They looked nervous, glancing over their shoulders like they expected someone to follow them in. I set down my mug and tried to look reassuring.

“Finn, we want a reading.” The braided girl stared at me, eyes watery.

“Sure,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. I’d never been called ‘master’ by kids so young, so I got a little excited and raised the price. “Forty bucks for twenty minutes.”

“What? That’s expensive…” The braided girl turned to her friend. “Maddie, maybe we should just get two charms.”

The ponytail girl bit her lip. “Finn, can you make it cheaper? We don’t have that much money…”

She was pretty—light brows, hazel eyes, small face, thin lips.

But I’m a man of principle. No discounts. Gotta have standards.

“Nope,” I said. “But you can tell me first—talking’s free.”

The braided girl, as if grabbing a lifeline, stepped forward and grabbed my arm.

“We know something bad. Someone else knew it, and now they’re dead—are we next?”

Her grip was ice-cold. I tried not to show how uneasy I felt.

“Who died? Amy Sun?”

Her eyes went wide.

I took the chance to free my poor arm and nudged the girls toward the door.

“If your secret’s about the murder, you should go to the police. Why come to me? I’m just a fortune teller.”

“You’re not! You even predicted Amy Sun’s death!” The braided girl clung to the doorframe.