Bull's Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #3

Chapter 25

At this late hour, the food shelf just outside downtown Stevens Point is closed, but it's not without visitors already lined up outside the entrance. The economy is doing much better than in years past, but the rising tide didn't lift all boats. Despite a robust population of 27,000, Stevens Point is still considered part of rural Wisconsin. Most of the growth took place in places like Madison and Milwaukee.

Unless you worked for Gene's insurance company. Then you never fell on hard times. Criminal enterprises are exempt from the normal ebb and flow of economics.

For the rest of Stevens Point, resting on service industries, wages never climbed with the times. In short, if your ass was broke during the last recession, you were probably still just as broke.

Not everyone was so welcoming of the food shelf, though. Zandra can still remember the fury of the more affluent neighborhoods pouring into a zoning commission meeting when the food shelf was originally proposed. However, the optics of opposing a church-run, charitable operation didn't fly in such a traditional area, so the city came to a compromise. The food shelf would go in, but the police would patrol the hell out it.

Which is why Zandra's eyes once again fall upon a squad car in the food shelf's tiny parking lot.

As expected.

"We'll just keep driving," Vince says as the Jeep's headlights wrap a glow around an officer arguing with someone outside the entrance.

No.

"It's even better with the police here," Zandra says. "Pull over."

"And why's that?" Jo says.

"Because that means the people in line will be extra jaded," Zandra says and hacks into her sleeve. She wipes the contents on the seat cushion. "I like jaded people. They like to talk."

"Do you like me?" Jo says.

"Not as much as Vince does," Zandra says. The Jeep comes to a stop. Zandra open the passenger door. "Cover me."

"With what?" Vince says and tries to wink. It comes out as a blink instead.

What's the point of taking pep pills if you turn into a cornball?

Zandra drags her bad ankle toward the entrance. She can overhear the officer deriding someone in line for the food shelf about safety.

"...you're not in any trouble. I want you to know about the violence we've been seeing around here at night lately. You'd be best to stay at home until this place opens," the officer says. He's a large, imposing figure. Zandra doesn't recognize him.

As she gets closer, Zandra counts six people in line, plus the officer.

Six women. Two kids. One infant.

The food shelf is always running low, and it's not like everyone can drive somewhere else for assistance. There'll be more when the sun comes up. You have to get here early.

The officer backs up to address the line at large. He says, "Technically, this is loitering, but I think you are all smart enough to know how to stay safe. Right?"

Zandra takes a spot at the end of the line and listens. No one seems to notice her.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," someone in line says.

"We can't make exceptions for nuisance violations. I'm trying to be the good guy here," the officer says.

"My baby needs diapers," a woman in line ahead of Zandra says.

"I did a wellness check at your apartment last week. That's not even your baby," the officer says and crosses his arms.

The officer isn't here to make any arrests or write tickets. It's part of the strategy. Keep the air tense to save face. He'll make his point and leave.

After a couple more minutes of back and forth, the officer does exactly that.

No squeak in his cheese curds.

Zandra looks over to the Jeep to make sure her companions are still within sight. Vince parked the vehicle between the glows of two streetlights. Turning back, she sets her sights on the woman who said she needed diapers.

If she's a regular here, she's probably seen the man with the scars on his face.

That's cutiology for you. The spotter's fingers were cut up about a quarter-inch of the way down at the tips of her pointer and middle digits. It has to do with the no-name brand of canned foods they offer at the food shelf. Super cheap materials. The lid is always falling into the food. You need to fish it out with a knife or with your fingers. If you're hungry enough, you won't bother with the knife.

I used to have those same cuts on my fingers.

Zandra clears her throat, or attempts to, to grab the attention of the woman in front of her.

"The hell?" the woman, dressed in pajama bottoms and a hoodie, says before Zandra can play the game. "I know you. You're that psychic person."

"Just wondering when they open this place up," Zandra says with a forced chuckle, hoping a sprinkle of humor will go a long way.

It doesn't work.

"You serious right now? Really?" the woman says. "You are the reason I'm in this line in the first place."

Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Do I know her?

"I don't know what you mean," Zandra says. She takes a wobbly step backward. "I just made bail. Don't have any money for food. I'm like you."

I don't recognize her face.

"Like one of us? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" the woman says.

"I mean that I'm only here because I...I...," Zandra says, at a loss for words.

"What, are you here to sell us on some psychic bullshit? You think we're that stupid?" the woman says.

Well, yeah.

"Psychic?" another woman says. She walks over and cut off Zandra's exit route from the sidewalk. "So you're the one who told all these so-called secrets at that showdown thing, huh? Yeah, real easy for you to stand up there on stage and ruin other people's lives. One of those people you squealed on, if what you said was even true, freaked out and shut down the business he was running. All the employees missed a paycheck. I got four kids at home. Now I'm here in this fuckin' line talking to you."

Zandra looks back to the Jeep, hoping that Vince and Jo notice what's happening.

With my luck, they're probably doing the dope-and-fuck routine.

"That's not...that's not true...," Zandra says, once again struggling to find the words to diffuse the situation.

"I'll tell you what's true. My boyfriend left me after he went to see you a few years ago. You told him the dreams he was having about the ocean were a sign from God. Now he's some bum on the coast, and I've got kids with no daddy and no food," the woman says and digs a can of pepper spray out her purse.

Hurry. I need help.

But help doesn't come in time for the pepper spray.

Zandra clutches her face and falls to her knees, screaming in pain from the spray. She cries out for the woman to stop, but she receives no mercy. The woman wrenches Zandra's hands away and applies another dousing. A foot in the ribs sends Zandra to the concrete. Another and another follow.

Help!