Telling Fortunes in Phoenix
Chapter Three

Sara

After the visions and portents of the preceding month, being dragged off to jail like a criminal seemed inevitable. Sara listened passively as Detective Blake read her rights and followed meekly when he took her off to his car.

The ‘séance’ that the detective was so insistent on hearing about had happened a week before. Though Maureen’s concerns were groundless and the truth utterly unconnected to trafficking, though none of the player’s in that drama were sinister in any way, still the earth seemed to shift when she opened the door to her early morning client.

As the fortune teller stood there, recoiling in horror from this perfectly normal woman, she did a rapid internal inventory. Was she, Sara, having some kind of emotional crisis? Was the menopause upon her? Maybe her unease had a simple physiological basis or maybe it was time to come to terms with her strange childhood. There wasn’t time for a leisurely survey, though, so Sara denied her fears and ushered Maureen into the house.

There was nothing in the woman’s appearance to cause alarm. She dressed in linen shorts and a silk blouse that set off her creamy skin and stylishly cut sandy hair. The only element that jarred the image of a well-off Phoenician matron was her drawn, anxious expression.

“I’m Maureen,” she said. “You’re expecting me?”

“I am. Come in. Would you like coffee or tea?” Sara led her into the sunny kitchen.

“Coffee, please.”

Sara quashed her threatened feelings and indicated a chair. “Do you want a general reading or something specific?”

“I have a problem,” said Maureen.

Sara turned to the sink to make the coffee but looking out at her spring garden the window seemed to dissolve and was replaced with an interior scene.

A compact man of middle age walked toward a black enameled door. His royal blue dressing gown set off his olive complexion and black hair. He opened the door to a young man, tall with auburn hair.

“Cody,” the smaller man said, “you weren’t to come this evening.”

Moving to a chair, the redhead took the other man onto his lap and wrapped him in his arms. “Sit with me a moment.” He then rained soft kisses on his host’s face and neck until the older man, initially sitting in unbending rigidity, finally put his arms around the other’s neck and leaned his forehead against him.

Sara gave her head a shake to banish the intrusion then turned to speak to her client, hoping her time away had gone unnoticed.

She joined Maureen at the table. “So, what can I do for you?”

“My son, Cody, is taking drugs.” The words rushed from Maureen. “Someone he’s met is supplying them and…well, I mean to stop it.”

The coffee dripper sputtered as it finished brewing. The two women took a moment as coffee was poured and Sara added cream to hers.

“What do you want from me?” Sara said.

“Do a reading on my son. Find out who this person is or, well, whatever you can. Just concentrate on Cody.” She rummaged in her bag. “Here.” She pulled out a snap shot of the redhead Sara had just seen in her vision. “And I brought this in case you needed something of his to concentrate on.” Maureen handed over a class ring. It was shiny and didn’t look like it had ever been worn. “Help me replace out who’s giving Cody drugs. I’ll take it from there.”

Sara smiled. “Sounds like you need a private investigator. Why did you come to me?”

“A friend said you were very good. I’ve never been to anyone like you but don’t you help replace people?”

“Not at all.” Sara hoped the relief didn’t show in her voice. “I can’t help you.”

Maureen’s eyes narrowed.

“You know something,” she said.

“A little. I know your son doesn’t take drugs,” Sara said. “How old is he?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Where does he live?”

“With me.”

“Because?”

“Because he’s saving money to buy a house. And we like each other.” Maureen’s face looked pinched. “What’s wrong with that?”

Sara sighed. The thing about people… No matter where they shopped or studied or went to church, you could never tell how one would react if a loved one surprised them. Sara wasn’t going to ‘out’ this woman’s son.

“Nothing is wrong with that,” she said. “Families have lived together since time began, but that’s no excuse for prying into a grown man’s life.” That came out more self-righteous than Sara had wanted.

“He’s my son.”

“I know, but he’s fine. Not stoned. You can relax.”

Maureen did not relax. “Aren’t you supposed to look at cards or something?” Her face was more pinched than ever.

“Yeah, but you want me to spy on your son. I can’t do that.”

The woman looked like she was going to cry, now. “What should I do?”

“Can’t you just ask him?” Sara said.

Maureen did not answer. She breathed deeply, the tears seeming very near the surface.

“Look,” Sara said. “I’ll read you. Hold on.” Sara made a visor of her hand as if she were trying to see past a bright horizon.

“There is something dark hovering around your son, but it isn’t drugs. It might have to do with his work. He’ll be drawn into a situation where he needs to protect someone.” Sara growled at herself. After all of her protestations she was reading the son! But he was the focal point of the darkness that surrounded Maureen Sturgis.

“He’ll need your help and I’m sure you’ll give it, but don’t worry about substance abuse. Your son is well and you’ve helped him become the fine man that he is.”

Sara returned to her usual posture, eyes open, smiling kindly at her guest. Her guest did not smile back.

“I see that you’re no help,” Maureen said, tight lipped. She stood and gathered her bag. “I’ll replace my own way.”

Apparently Maureen’s ‘own way’ was to call the cops.

Sara’s resignation had morphed into anger, but not at the detective or Maureen. She raged at fate forcing her hand. She did not want to be embroiled in this mess, it was not her job to right injustices. Why couldn’t things remain as they were? She just wanted to read people and enjoy her routine but instead she continued to be presented with this… situation. And now she was in jail.