Micki stood, shook her hand and introduced herself. Zach did the same.
“Creepy fortune teller?” Zach said.
Angie frowned at Nick. “Seriously, you didn’t?”
“It didn’t seem like a big deal.”
“It was a big deal to Gwen. It totally freaked her out.”
“Why don’t you fill us in,” Micki said.
The girl dragged a battered ottoman over and plopped down. “It was one of those tarot card readers who sits in Jackson Square, in front of the cathedral. We were walking by, and she called out to Gwen.”
“By name?”
She shook her head and her ponytail swung. “Gwen must’ve looked her way. Then she said something like ‘Come, pretty girl, let me tell you the future.’ I remember it was super corny. We all laughed.”
Nick jumped in. “At first Gwen wasn’t going to do it, but since it was her birthday, we urged her to. Told her we’d even pay for it.”
“It was supposed to be fun.” Angie snorted. “Fortune tellers always tell you good things. Always. Right, Nick?”
“Right.” He nodded. “And since Darren just broke up with her, we figured hearing true love was waiting right around the corner was just what she needed to hear.”
“But that’s not what this fortune teller did?”
Again, Angie’s ponytail swung. “If we’d known, we never would have encouraged her.”
“She looked like a witch.” Nick jumped in. “And right away, she started pulling up these crazy, bad cards—death, the hangman, swords and stuff.”
“She put a good spin on them, but we could tell she was getting sort of weirded out.”
“And so was Gwen.”
“So the witch decides to read Gwen’s palm instead. She takes her hand—”
“And that’s when things really got messed up.”
“She makes this terrible face and jerks away from her. Ends the reading.”
Zach frowned. “Terrible face?”
Nick rubbed his arms, his own expression turning queasy. “Like it hurt to touch her.”
“Or was disgusting,” Angie added. “I couldn’t believe she could do that to Gwen. It was so mean!”
Nick leaned forward. “Then she warns Gwen. ‘Be careful,’ she says. ‘Your enemy roams like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour.’”
“It was such a bullshit move,” Angie said. “I was so mad. That was the last thing Gwen needed.”
Nick agreed. “She was really upset.”
“The gypsy lady is packing up her crap, like literally, the folding table and chair—”
“We’re totally pissed. Demand our money back—”
“Gwen is white as a sheet. She’s begging the witch to tell her what she saw. What was wrong.”
“Then what,” Zach asked.
“She stuffs some money in my hand. Looks at Gwen and says ‘You’ll meet your true love soon. He’s waiting.’ She straps everything on her wheelie and goes.”
Zach turned to Nick. “You didn’t think this was important enough to tell us about?”
He flushed. “She was just a head case, right? A phony psychic with a crazy, mean streak?”
“What if she wasn’t?”
They all went silent, and Micki looked at Zach in disbelief. Maybe next time she should bring along a roll of duct tape, to keep his mouth shut.
“What Detective Harris means,” she said, “is that in a missing person investigation, everyone who comes into contact with the victim is important.”
“This psychic, you got her name?”
“Not me.” Angela looked at Nick. “Did you?”
“No. But Beth must have, ‘cause she said she was going to report her. I could text her and ask.”
“That’d be great.”
Just then, the front door burst open and a tall girl with wild red hair barreled through. She all but skidded to a stop when she saw Micki and Zach.
“Hello,” Micki said, holding up her shield. “Beth Adams?” She nodded. “Detective Dare, NOPD. My partner, Detective Harris.”
Angela jumped in. “They’re here about Gwen.”
Nick followed. “They’re trying to find her.”
Beth’s eyes lit up. “Any leads yet? And what about that door? I’ve been thinking about the number seven, what it could mean. Hold on, I wrote a few ideas down.” She dug through her purse, and found what she was looking for—a crumpled sales receipt. She handed it to Zach. “Sorry. I didn’t have any paper.”
“Thanks,” he said, glancing at the list and handing it to Micki.
She quickly scanned it. Seven Deadly Sins, Seven Wonders of the World, Seven Days of the Week, Lucky Number Seven.
“That’s all I came up with so far,” Beth said. “I’m sure there’re more. I could get online and—”
“No. But thank you, this is a great start.” Micki folded the list and slipped it into her pocket. “Nick and Angie were telling us about your experience with the Jackson Square fortune teller.”
“What a poser! It was just awful what she did. I was going to report her when—”