Free Night Secrets by Thomas H. Cook Page B

immediately.
    Tannenbaum looked at him incredulously. “You mean, now? At this hour?”
    â€œIt’s the only time I can,” Frank told him. “I’m working something else during the day.”
    Tannenbaum drew in a tired breath, then pulled himself out of the chair. “Okay, Frank, I’ll give you the okay.” He smiled. “Why don’t you go over now? The old lady may be awake. From the look of things, the Gypsies don’t sleep much either.”

H e arrived at the fortune-teller’s storefront only a few minutes later. It was a two-story building and the upper floor was entirely dark. The fortuneteller’s blue neon sign was dark as well, but he could see a faint light glowing through the light-blue curtain which still covered the front window.
    He stepped up to the door, tapped lightly, then waited. He could hear footsteps as they neared the door, then stopped. The door did not open, and so he tapped at it again.
    The door opened slowly, and through the small space between its edge and the jamb, he could see a single dark-brown eye.
    â€œMy name’s demons,” he said. He quickly took out his card and held it up to the lone staring eye. “I’m a private investigator.”
    The woman stared at him expressionlessly.
    â€œYou got a call from Manhattan North, right?” Frank asked.
    The woman nodded silently.
    â€œWell, I’m the guy they told you about, the one who was coming over.”
    The old woman looked closely at the card, then turned toward him.
    â€œI’m looking into the murder,” Frank said. “Trying to find out a few things about it.”
    â€œYou are not from the police?”
    â€œNo, just someone who’s looking into the case,” Frank said. “Are you Maria Jacobe?”
    The woman said nothing.
    â€œIf you’re not, I wonder if you could tell me where I could find her,” Frank said.
    â€œI thought it was the police,” the woman said. “I open only for the police.”
    Frank smiled quietly. “If I could find her, I’d be happy to pay her for her time.”
    â€œI open only for the police,” the woman repeated.
    Frank took out one of the crisp hundred-dollar bills Mr. Phillips had given him the day before.
    â€œI’d start with this,” he said, as he held it up to her.
    The woman’s eyes widened. “I open only for the police,” she said. “But also those who wish to know their fortunes.”
    Frank nodded. “All right,” he said.
    The door opened immediately, and Frank walked into the building.
    The old woman was already in the other room, seated at the small table. “Please come in,” she said.
    Frank swept back the red-beaded curtain and walked into the front room. He sat down opposite the woman and glanced through the second curtain and into the interior room where he’d first seen the Puri Dai. The large wicker chair still rested at the center of the room, along with the small black table beside it. The red candle was still there, as well, and beside it, neatly coiled, a gold chain and large medallion.
    The woman glanced at the money, and Frank immediately handed it to her.
    â€œThank you,” the woman said. “Now, may I have your hands, please.”
    Frank stretched them out toward her, and she turned them palms up and peered deeply at their criss-crossed lines.
    â€œYou are going to be very successful,” she said.
    Frank’s eyes drifted back toward the other room, concentrating on the medallion that hung over the table. It was very large, and even from a few feet away, he could follow its details, the flaming tongues which leaped out from its circular edges. It was made of brass, and at its slightly raised center there was an engraving of a scorpion.
    â€œYou will find much joy,” the woman said. She turned his hands over. “Much joy and happiness.”
    Frank turned to her and drew his hands