Lark & LeClair had struggled at first, but business was finally starting to pick up, thanks to word of mouth from satisfied customers. The firm was careful not to advertise or promote the psychic angle. Catalina and Olivia feared it would draw people who wanted their palms read, their fortunes told and advice on which numbers to play in the state lottery. There was also a very real possibility that any claim of paranormal abilities would attract the attention of some flat-out crazies.
“After my last divorce I promised myself I would never marry again,” Marsha continued. Her jaw tensed. “But sooner or later the loneliness gets to you.”
“I understand,” Catalina said. She waited because she knew there would be questions. The client always had questions.
Marsha sighed. “How did you do it?”
“How did we discover the truth about Hopper?”
“Yes. I did some research myself, online. I couldn’t find anything but what he wanted me to find.”
“I’m not surprised,” Catalina said. “He did a good job of cleaning up his online profile. But my partner and I employ some extremely sophisticated search programs here at Lark and LeClair.”
That was the truth, more or less. There was no need to explain that she and Olivia had begun the search by simply taking a very close look at Angus Hopper. It had been a straightforward, routine step for a couple of investigators who could see auras. She and Olivia had waited in a car outside the restaurant where Marsha and Hopper were scheduled to have dinner one evening. Olivia had examined Hopper’s aura when he walked past the parked vehicle.
“That is one scary creep,” she announced.
Catalina had studied the way Hopper focused his attention on Marsha and picked up a whisper of a vision.
“He’s dangerous,” she said. “He’s hurt women before and he’ll do it again.”
After that it had been a matter of old-fashioned investigative work. Hopper had scrubbed a lot of his past off the Internet, but there wasn’t much he could do about the memories of the people who had come in contact with him over the years. The women who had known him had nothing good to say about him. Explosive temper. When I finally ended things, I thought he would kill me. He stalked me for weeks. I was so relieved when he finally left town.
Catalina clasped her hands on top of her desk. “Hopper is smart. Thus far he has managed to keep from getting arrested. I think the women he’s hurt were afraid to file charges. But sooner or later he’ll go too far or get careless. He’s a ticking time bomb.”
Marsha pulled herself together, squared her shoulders and turned around. Her eyes were bleak but resolute.
“We were supposed to have dinner together tonight,” she said. “I’ll let him know that I can’t make it. Business. He won’t think that’s strange. Everyone knows real estate people work odd hours.”
Something about Marsha’s grim expression sent a chill of anxiety across Catalina’s senses.
“Be careful,” she said. “Keep your distance from him, Marsha. I told you, he’s dangerous. The people we talked to said he has serious anger management issues.”
Marsha had been about to move toward the door. She paused. “Do you think he’ll try to hurt me?”
Catalina hesitated, sorting through possibilities. “My colleague and I believe that his first instinct is to ensure his own welfare. He is smart enough to want to avoid arrest. He’s like a snake that would prefer to slither away out of sight rather than attack. But we think he is also somewhat unstable. Our advice is to slide out of the relationship without provoking him. Take a vacation. If his past behavior is any indication, he’ll cut his losses once he realizes his con isn’t working. He’ll go hunting for another potential victim.”
Marsha shook her head. “Some other poor fool who will fall for his lies, you mean.”
Catalina got to her feet. “I want to be very clear about what happened here. You did not fall for Angus Hopper’s lies. You heeded your intuition and you paid a substantial fee to this firm to investigate that con man. We confirmed your suspicions, but the only reason we were able to assist you is because you had the intelligence and common sense to question a man who seemed too good to be true. We hope you will accept the results of our inquiries.”
Marsha looked surprised. “Of course. I’m not an idiot.”
“I know. But some clients in your position refuse to deal with the facts that we present to them.”
Marsha nodded somberly. “They wanted different answers.”
“We always provide hard evidence, but you would be amazed by how many people ignore our advice.”
For the first time Marsha’s mouth curved in the barest hint of a smile. “Which is why you insist on getting your fee up front in the form of a retainer.”
Catalina smiled, too. “Yep. We learned that lesson back at the start.”
Marsha absorbed the small pep talk in silence for a few beats. Then some of the nervous tension seeped out of her.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll be careful, but what I’d really like is to see that bastard go to jail.”
“We don’t have the kind of evidence that will stand up in a court of law,” Catalina said. “And none of the people we talked to are willing to testify. Eventually Hopper will cross the line and get caught, but until he does, he’s a menace.”
“He’s also one hell of a con artist, I’ll give him that. Thank you, again, Catalina. I’ll be back if I run into any other dates who seem too good to be true.”
Catalina hurried around her desk and crossed the room.
“Goodbye,” she said. She opened the door. “And please remember what I said. You should thank your own intuition. You saved yourself because you were smart enough to sense that you were being conned.”
“Right.” Marsha gave her a wry smile. Tears glittered in her eyes. “Think that will keep me company at night?”
“I’m sorry,” Catalina said again.
There was nothing else she could say. Sometimes she suggested that clients consult a counselor or a therapist but her intuition told her that Marsha would not take that advice well.
Marsha strode down the hall to the reception area. Daniel Naylor, ensconced behind the sleek receptionist desk, jumped to his feet and opened the outer door for her. She brushed past him and disappeared out into the hall.
When she was gone, Daniel closed the door and looked at Catalina.
“Is Ms. Matson depressed or just mad as hell?” he asked.
Daniel was in his early twenties and possessed the computer skills that Catalina and Olivia lacked. They had grown up in Fogg Lake, after all, where high-tech phones, laptops and other cutting-edge devices did not function well, if at all. Sure, they had picked up a working knowledge of computers in college, and they were becoming increasingly competent with the various programs required in the course of the investigation business, but there was no way they would ever become as nimble on the Internet as someone who had grown up wired to his tech, playing online games and navigating social media.
In addition to his skills, Daniel had a gift for putting tense, nervous clients at ease. He also had style. As if by magic, he made the casual street gear look that characterized Pacific Northwest fashion appear effortlessly cool.