Twice Bitten, Once Shy: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #5

Chapter 9

Finger Gun

Zandra closes her eyes and rubs her temples. It's for dramatic effect, and to buy her time.

Fifty people...

Need to crunch some percentages...

"Children, since I set foot on this vessel, I felt a presence," Zandra says as she opens her eyes. She deliberately replaces "Curd Queen" with "vessel," since the clunky name might splinter the drama. Her hands release from her temples and chop at the air. It looks like she's practicing martial arts in slow motion against an invisible opponent.

"Whoa," Chad says from behind Zandra.

Shut up, Chad.

Zandra commands full attention as she shuffles to the table in the middle of the deck. She continues chopping at the air and says, "This vessel, this boat, is infested with spirits. In your earthly terms, children, it is haunted."

Wait. I've overplayed my hand here. Need an escape hatch in case the Curd Queen has a clean history.

"Or it's about to become haunted. Maybe soon, maybe some other time. But understand this, children: the spirits see this vessel as a special place. It isn't an ordinary boat, which means there's an extraordinary reason you're all here. That may mean something different to each of you, but the spirits could not be clearer," Zandra says.

Sound confident about how vague you're being. That's key in a cold reading. It forms a gap—a debt in the conversation—the audience will try to fill on their own. Politicians use this trick all the time when they spend 30 minutes saying absolutely nothing. Corporate America loves to pull this, too. Psychics only need to mimic what they see, because most people have had some exposure to President Shithead and CEO Fuckmonkey at some point in their lives.

Zandra glances at Ivy and Jade. They seem satisfied with the performance so far.

"The spirits want to show you exactly what they mean. They don't want to leave any doubt about just how rare and incredible a moment like this really is, that we all, children, should be right here together, right now, in this very time and location," Zandra says, stretching that last sentence out by slicing it into fragments for maximum effect.

Let's do this.

Zandra points at a middle-aged man at the middle table. "You."

"Me?" the man says.

"Yes," Zandra says. "The spirits say you, child, have a special connection with someone here. Someone near to you. Physically near to you."

The man cranks his neck one way and then the other. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me, child, do you know what astrology is?" Zandra says.

"Sure."

"Maybe you've read your horoscope before?"

"Of course."

"Anything beyond that, child?" Zandra says.

"Not really," the man says.

Good. I've got the right mark. I've also made it seem like this guy's guiding the conversation. You've got to be like a trial lawyer examining a witness. Ask the right questions to get the right answers.

"You share a birthday with someone here. Someone near you. The spirits say you are linked with this person," Zandra says.

"I am?" the man says.

Everyone leans a little closer toward the man for a better view of what happens next. Zandra raises both hands in the air like she's summoning the weather.