Free Gold Coast Blues by Marc Krulewitch Page A

That’s a reckless way to live.”
    She had that look of cocky anticipation, as if she knew she had me pegged. I wanted to tell her she had revealed a great reason for us to be more than friends.
    “You want to play investigator with me?” I said. “Fine. You can share what you know or think you know. But you’re on your own. You take your own risks. I’m not going to be responsible for something happening to you.”
    Amy’s expression did not exactly exude gratitude. “Gee, thanks, Jules. How privileged I am to be allowed to help you.”
    “You say you picked up Tanya’s energy. How do you do it?”
    “I’m going to pretend you asked that question without overt cynicism. For people like me, the energy comes through you . The barrier between the concrete world and abstract consciousness is just a thin veil of perception. If you are focused on her, then at some level you are communicating with her simply through your desire to find her. Think of me as eavesdropping on your conversation.”
    Intelligent, pretty, she saw little difference between empirical and hypothetical reality. But only two letters separated the words “psychic” and “psychotic.” “I don’t like being followed.”

    “Last night I spent some time on the Internet. The wine collecting world isn’t that big. Not at this level of value. When you start breaking out the niche groups, you find a small circle that collects antique wine. I don’t even think they drink the stuff. It’s just a place to park money, like an investment.”
    Amy took a piece of paper from her purse and handed it to me. It was a lengthy obituary of a philanthropic wine collector, Dr. Thomas van Bourgondien, who donated his bottles to various charities once they had attained a significant value.
    “Interesting guy,” I said. “What about him?”
    “Read the last few lines.”
    “ ‘Preceded in death by his wife, Sarah, survived by his daughter, Margot Daley.’ How did you find out where she lived?”
    Amy hesitated. “I did some more searching on the Net.”
    “Is Margot Daley the only antique wine collector in the city? How did you settle on her house as where you’d find me?”
    “I had a hunch—”
    “Don’t start with the ‘energy’ bullshit, Amy. Falling back on your psychic powers as an explanation isn’t going to fly every time. In fact, the more you use it, the more I wonder who you really are.”
    Amy sighed. “Okay, you got me,” she said. “A friend in law enforcement told me where she lived.”
    “That still doesn’t explain why you were so sure I would go to Margot’s house.”

    “I wasn’t sure, but Margot’s father was a North-Sider. I had a hunch she was a North Side kind of gal. I gambled and my hunch was correct. That’s my explanation, take it or leave it.”
    “Your explanation stinks but I’ll let it go for now,” I said.
    “You want to tell me what Margot has to do with Tanya? You thought Tanya’s disappearance was related to the stolen wine.”
    This time I hesitated. “Okay, you got me. I don’t know and if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”
    “You are really starting to annoy me. Do you want my help or not?”
    “It’s not about me, it’s about you, remember?”
    “Fuck you.”
    I supposed I deserved it. “Sure. You can help me. But like I said you’re on your own. If you got info you want to share, fine. But it’s going to be a one-way street. I’m not going to risk you getting hurt because you know too much. The state gave me a license, they can take it away.”
    Amy sighed. “I wonder how a guy like you—who probably doesn’t have many friends—would be any good at this job.”
    “Maybe not having friends is an advantage. Or I make up for it by being reckless . And like you said, I don’t give a damn.”
    Amy offered to drive me back to my car. I declined, choosing instead to see if the fresh air would inspire my mental energies to figure out why this beautiful stranger would willingly take