“Cops ran all the mimes and musicians off. Fortune-tellers, too.”
Peter felt defeated even before he started. Perhaps Selena was inside one of the many office buildings in the area. It would only take about a year to check all of those. He climbed out of the backseat along with Liza. His driver’s window lowered.
“Check down below,” Herbie suggested.
“The subway?”
“Yeah. A lot of street performers work down there. Transit cops leave them alone.”
“Got it.”
The Times Square subway entrance was about as wide a city street. They went down the stairs and entered the city’s noisy underworld. The station was the linking point for five different lines, and contained five different sets of platforms. It was another needle in a haystack, and he approached a pair of transit cops flipping their nightsticks.
“Excuse me, but I’m looking for a female fortune-teller named Selena.”
“Describe her,” one of the cops said.
How was he supposed to describe someone he’d never met?
“She’s wise beyond her years,” he replied.
The cop pointed straight ahead. “I think I know her. She sits by the platform for the Number Three train. Take the escalator down. You can’t miss her.”
They bought Metrocards and followed the arrows to the Number 3. An escalator took them down to the lower level. Beneath a ripped poster for a rap artist sat a sixtyish woman wearing a black dress that could have belonged to a nun, no makeup, her gray hair tied in a bun. The contours of her face said Russian, perhaps Ukrainian. Two empty folding chairs were positioned to either side. Had she known they were coming?
“You must be Selena,” Peter said.
“And you must be Peter Warlock and Liza,” she said, without a hint of an accent. “I was reading a man’s fortune earlier, and you both popped up. Make yourself comfortable. I hope you don’t mind the noise.”
They sat to either side of her. A train pulled in and disgorged people wearing business attire. A particularly well-dressed man carrying a leather briefcase dropped several bills into Selena’s dented tin cup. They were big bills, a fifty and two hundreds.
“He a regular?” Peter asked.
“Hedge fund manager. I saved him a billion dollars last year,” Selena said.
“Holy cow,” Liza said.
“Got him on retainer?” Peter asked with a smile.
“Come to mention it, I do. His partners as well. Does that seem vulgar to you?”
“You have a right to make a living as much as anyone else.”
“Good answer.”
Selena fished the money out of her cup and stuffed it into the pocket of her dress. It was not easy making a living telling fortunes. There were so many fakes in the city, it was hard for a real psychic to get by. Selena had obviously found a gold mine inside the subway station, and Peter guessed her drab appearance was more costume than real.
“So tell me why you’re here,” Selena said. “It’s not often that another psychic seeks out my counsel.”
“I’m having a problem with a shadow person,” Peter explained. “Actually, several of them. They keep kidnapping me and my friends, and taking us into the future where we nearly die at the hands of a serial killer. I just learned that one of them was the victim of this same serial killer. I’m having a hard time understanding all this. Will you help me?
“Does your boyfriend always talk so fast?” Selena asked Liza.
“Only when he’s on edge,” Liza replied.
She addressed Peter. “The answer is obvious. You’re just not seeing it.”
“Will you tell us?” Peter asked.
“Bad question. Try again.”
“Will you guide us?” Peter asked.
Another businessman stepped up and dropped big bills into the dented tin cup.
“Investment banker,” she said as the man departed.
“Did you save him a bundle?” Peter asked.
“Just his bank. You don’t need me, Peter. You already know the answer.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel much better.”
“Repeat the words you said to me a moment ago. Dissect them one by one. One of those words holds the key to your mystery. Do it, and see if I’m right.”
Peter played back to himself what he’d just told Selena. While he did, a third man deposited more good tidings in Selena’s cup. Not a gold mine, but a mint.
“He runs a foreign embassy,” she said.
“Friend or foe?” Peter asked.
“Friend, of course. The only information I’d sell to a foe would be bad information. Have you got it yet?”
“I think so. The word nearly.”
Selena nodded approvingly. “That is correct. You said the shadow people were taking you and your friends into the future, and that you nearly died at the hands of a serial killer. But none of you have died. You’re assuming you will die, but that may not be the case.”
“I was taken into the future, and the serial killer put a gun to my head,” Liza jumped in. “He pulled the trigger right as I was yanked back into the real world. I would have died.”
“But you didn’t,” Selena said forcefully.
“I got lucky.”
Selena’s eyes laughed, and the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly.
“Why is that funny?” Liza asked.
“No one gets lucky,” Selena said.
“Sure they do. Haven’t you heard of Lady Luck smiling down on you?”
“Tell her,” Selena said to Peter.
“Luck is controlled by the spirits, and they only dole it out to babies and drunks,” Peter explained. “Everything else that happens in life is a role of the dice.”
“Next you’ll be telling me there isn’t a Santa Claus,” Liza said.
“Come to mention it…”
“What about you and Snoop? You were both taken to the future, and escaped before you were shot in the head,” Liza said. “Isn’t that luck?”
“No, that was fate. There’s a big difference.”
“Now I’m really confused.”
Selena’s eyes were still laughing. She rose from her chair and headed for the escalators. They followed and were soon standing in bustling Times Square. Down 42nd Street they went to one of the area’s many overpriced parking garages. The afternoon light was beginning to fade, and Peter realized he needed to get to his theater and prepare for tonight’s show. Selena’s day might be over, but his had just begun. Selena handed a parking attendant a stub, and the uniformed man hustled away.
“You don’t take the subway?” Peter asked.
“No. I live outside the city,” Selena said.
She removed a giant wad of cash from the pocket of her dress and began to count it. Her take for the day was well into the thousands of dollars.
“I think I’ve figured out what’s going on,” Peter said. “Will you hear me out?”
“Go ahead,” she said, still counting.
He spent a moment collecting his thoughts. When he finally spoke, it was with the conviction of someone who’d finally found a truth that had been evading him for the longest of times. “I was wrong from the start. The shadow people aren’t trying to hurt me, and in fact, aren’t evil spirits at all. They’re victims who are taking me into the future to reveal things that will help me stop the killer from claiming his next victim.”
Selena’s face was a blank. A shiny black Mercedes with New Jersey license plates came out of the garage. Selena tipped the attendant handsomely, then nodded good-bye to Peter and Liza as she climbed in.
“At least tell me if I’m getting warm,” Peter said.
She looked at him before shutting the driver’s door.
“You’re on fire,” she said.
50
Peter’s limo raced downtown. In less than two hours, he would be performing a full-evening magic show for a packed house. Solving crimes was important, but so was satisfying the people who paid to see him perform.
Liza fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat. It was rare to see her so unsettled. He was tempted to read her thoughts, but fought back the urge. Their relationship was never going to work if he kept stealing looks inside her head, and he told himself the practice had to stop.