Chapter 3: The Fortune Teller’s Trap

“Come on, she died right across the street. I saw it myself.”

Seeing they wouldn’t leave, I pulled out two lucky charms.

“Here, take these. Go to the police first. If they can’t help, then—hey, hey—”

The braided girl perked up at “free.” Before I could finish, she grabbed the charms, pulled the ponytail girl, and bolted.

Fantastic. Worked for nothing and lost thirty bucks. Bloodshed really does mess with my luck. Dammit.

I was just wondering if I should hang another horseshoe tomorrow when the door chime jingled again.

Marlene showed up.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, rain dripping from her jacket. The streetlights made her look almost ghostly.

“It’s fine. I was a little worried when you didn’t show.”

“Ah, sorry, did I make you worry?”

“No, no, just a little concerned.”

After five minutes of awkward small talk at the door, she finally cut through it. “Alright, enough stalling, let me in.”

Typical ’90s college grad—still sharp.

She took off her jacket, revealing a rose-colored long-sleeve shirt. Marlene sat down, looking like a rose bush sprouting in spring.

I glanced once and looked away.

She straightened her clothes and explained, “I went to the police station today, so I came late.”

That got my attention.

“The police station? Why?”

“I took my son to give a statement. Amy Sun died, right? She was my son’s classmate.”

“Oh, I see.” I breathed a sigh of relief, though I wasn’t sure why I was nervous.

“Amy Sun liked to bully people in little cliques. Now that she’s dead, the police suspect revenge.”

“So why are they looking at your son?”

“He had a grudge with her.” She looked at me like I was missing something obvious. “She’d been picking on him since they were kids—he was her first target.”

“Then why didn’t you stop it? Aren’t you his mom?”

“I only found out last Friday.”

“Last Friday?” My ears perked up.

“Yeah, after I found out, I called the leader of their little group to the woods behind town and killed her. But it was my first time, I panicked and don’t know where I dumped the body. Getting old, memory’s bad, so I came to ask you.”

I swallowed hard.

Marlene went on, “I learned my lesson today, so I dealt with this big sister right at the door—so I wouldn’t lose track.”

“Ma’am, are you serious or just messing with me?”

“Aren’t you a fortune teller?” She grinned. “Why are you asking me?”

After sending off Marlene, I dashed to the police station to report her, even losing a shoe on the way.

I regretted it. Should’ve never become a fortune teller. Should’ve never hustled people, either.

I swear, I repent. If I had another shot, I’d go straight, be a good guy.

When I burst into the reception hall, barefoot, I spotted the young cop from this morning—his turn on night shift.

I stammered through the story, but he just laughed.

“Man, I thought you had a real lead at this hour. You mean Marlene Foster? Tyler Foster’s mom?”

“Yeah, that’s her!”

“No way, no way.” He waved his hands.

“Why not? She’s big and strong—could strangle me easy. Come on, Officer, can’t you just judge by looks for once?”

“Really impossible,” he leaned in, “Since you gave me that cigarette, I’ll tell you the truth. Amy Sun’s case is a sexual assault and murder. Sexual assault, get it?”

I was stunned, nodded, then shook my head.

“You need a certain… equipment for that crime,” he explained, “Men can, women can’t.”

Walking out of the police station, the night wind chilled me to the bone. My mind slowly cleared as I searched for my lost shoe on the way home.

Damn it, Marlene, you tricked me again.

I’ve always fooled others—when have I ever been played this hard? And by a small-town lady, no less.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I gave up on finding my shoe and limped home, shivering.

The next day, I just took the day off and didn’t open the shop.

But my shop assistant told me Marlene didn’t come by that day.

Maybe she realized her joke went too far and hid out for a day, too embarrassed to see me.

Honestly, I wasn’t mad anymore. I have no bottom line; if I did, I wouldn’t be a fortune teller.

But every day Marlene doesn’t show, I lose forty bucks, and that stings.

On the third day, she must’ve figured I’d cooled off, because she showed up again.

“Did you call the police?” she asked as soon as she walked in.

“Of course not.” I acted surprised.

“Really didn’t go?”

“Really didn’t. We fortune tellers have professional ethics. Customer privacy, you know.”

“Good man,” she patted my shoulder, “I knew I could trust you.”

Marlene dragged me into the back room and shoved me into a chair.

“What do you want?” I clutched my chest, playing along.

“I need your help. Can you give me some advice on energy flow?”

“…Go ahead.”

“Didn’t I tell you last time I killed someone? But I haven’t dealt with the murder weapon or my clothes yet. Where do you think I should dump them?”

…

Damn it, she’s at it again.

I seriously suspect this woman just likes torturing me for fun.

I treat her like a goddess; she treats me like her plaything.

But this time, I was ready.

“What did you wear when you killed?” I asked.

“Raincoat, oh, and rain boots.”

“Don’t you run a grocery store? Just wash them and sell them.”

She stared at me, wide-eyed.

Finally, she didn’t look at me like I was an idiot.

I asked, “What weapon did you use?”

“E-electric cord.” She started to stutter.

“Easy. Just bury it on a hill somewhere—don’t be dumb and keep it at home.” Then I changed my tone. “But—”

“What?” She leaned in.

“Just saying, I’m not doing this for any other reason—I’m really thinking of you. If you kill again, don’t use electric cord. Use this.”

“What’s that?” She eyed what I handed her, puzzled.