Free A Corpse in a Teacup by Cassie Page

powers of divination by saying, “If you see any more bodies, would get names and addresses, please. And preferably before they’re knocked off?”
    Tuesday didn’t take the jibes personally. She was used to that reaction from the uninformed. It was just an example of the narrow world Jameson lived in. This was LA, for crying out loud. People claimed to read navel lint for a living. Nothing should surprise them. That’s what Sharrie had said, her neighbor in whom she often confided.
    Sharrie read nose hair and predicted the course of relationships by measuring the length of baby toes. Tuesday thought that was a stretch when she first saw the crystal calipers her neighbor used in her readings. But, hey. She was paying her rent with it. Along with the sale of scented body oil she created from her own recipe that she claimed corrected astrological imbalances.
    But Sharrie wasn’t any good at predicting the future. So when Tuesday knocked on her door after Apple Margaritas with the girls and said she had to talk, and explained that she’d met the love of her life but didn’t know his name yet, Sharrie had said, “Honey, you gotta give me more than that. At least tell me what size shoe he wears.”
    So Tuesday retreated to her apartment and pulled out her trusty pendulum. Sometimes to solve a vexing problem, Tuesday would consult the iChing or Tarot cards. But she was most comfortable with tea leaves. She had studied tasseomancy in more depth and it was her medium of choice, except when she had what she called the deep dark blues. Then she called Doctor Darla, her sandtray psychologist.
    A pendulum, though, was something anyone could use. It merely gave the answer to a yes or no question that was locked in a person’s subconscious. If you misplaced your keys, a part of you knew where you set them down. Through a series of yes or no questions, the seeker could discover the lost object. Tuesday knew, though, that sometimes your unconscious, subconscious, higher self, terms Tuesday used interchangeably, didn’t want you to know the answer and then the pendulum would swing in circles, leaving the questioner to figure out the puzzle with the same tool everyone else possessed, common sense. Tuesday found this method of divination particularly useful in calming her beating heart when she was troubled with a vexing problem, needed confirmation or was just too impatient to let her life unfold naturally.
    S o, eyes closed, pendulum still as a stone, she repeated her question, all the while focusing on the dreamboat’s image. His smile came through clearly, but she was afraid her delight at recalling his broad grin and the twinkle in his eye would influence the results. She needed to bring forth an image to calm her mood and let the pendulum swing independently of her desires. Her mother popped into her mind, which sobered Tuesday’s vibe instantly.
    She stood very still. If the pendulum swung back and forth, the answer was yes, side to side indicated no and a circular motion meant her subconscious knew the answer but refused to tell her.
    She held her breath. All around her was stillness. She felt enveloped in an almost unearthly quiet, except for Sharrie’s Pomeranian suddenly barking up a storm. Tuesday tried to shut out the yipping. At first there was no movement, then, yes. Ever so slightly, the chain began to vibrate. But still she kept her eyes shut, not wanting to influence the direction of the pendulum by staring at it with a desired outcome in mind.
    Yes, there was movement . Wow, was there movement. She felt her whole being swaying from side to side. This must mean she had a powerful connection with this guy. Whoops, she was losing her balance. Something was happening. She opened her eyes and saw the pendulum swinging in a wide circle.
    Uh oh. This wasn’t her unconscious moving the pendulum, the earth was moving. She looked at the picture over her mantle sliding back and forth, then heard a glass fall in the kitchen.