“Peaches?”
“I don’t know if that’s her real name. I guess it’s not, but she’s got this tattoo on her chest of a peach and it saysPeachesin big cursive letters on top.”
The woman from the valet. The prostitute who mocked me. “Her. Yeah, I’ve seen her around.”
“Wait—where? I need to find her. I was too surprised to even ask her any questions. Like when she found the bag, and what road she was on, and maybe if she saw anything else nearby.”
“She hangs around at the casino. Sometimes she’s at one of the bars at the end of the day when I’m there. I saw her once early in the morning. I guess she had spent the night. She gave me the finger.”
That got a smile from Clara. “She doesn’t come into the spa, does she?”
“No. Or at least she hasn’t since I’ve been there.” She stared at the poster, tracing her fingers over the phone number at the bottom. “Clara. Why did you ask me to come here?”
She blew a puff of air out of her cheeks. “I guess I didn’t want to carry all this around by myself anymore. I wanted someone else to know what I see.”
“But why me? Why not Des?”
“Des doesn’t give a shit about anything as long as there’s money coming in. She believes in my gift and all, but if I tell her that I’m seeing things that don’t make sense, the first thing she’s going to worry about is whether I can still work. You know when you came in earlier this month? After I took your bracelet? I could tell, when I first met you, that you believed me. That you would listen to me. And I felt that way even though you were mad at me. Some people, even when I tell them things, about what I see, they don’t believe it. They think I’ve cheated. That I’ve looked them up online or something, I don’t know what. You’re not like that. I think you want to tell yourself that I’m crazy because what I do is weird and scary to people. It’s weird and scary to me sometimes, too. But you’re still sitting here, right?”
I wondered if it was my father’s superstition that let me believe in what Clara said. When you grow up believing in lucky dollar bills, maybe you’re agreeing that there are things about the universe that you can’t know or control. Maybe, maybe that’s what Clara’s gift was, too. Something I couldn’t rationalize or explain, but that existed. And whether or not I believed her story, I believed in her distress. “So, what do we do?”
“Well, that’s what I thought you could help with. Can’t you see things at the spa? You have all of those cameras Emily is always threatening me with. And so does the casino. Can’t you see the videos? Maybe you could watch the footage, see if Peacheshas been hanging around. Or you can at least see who has stayed in the hotel, right? Can you check to see if she’s come in lately? Maybe we can find her and warn her … just tell her to leave town. She might not believe me, but she will probably believe you. If you tell her you agree …”
I cut her off. “You have to be a supervisor to access the security system. Emily might be able to, but I can’t.” I didn’t want to tell Clara that it would probably be impossible to find Peaches that way, that the sheer number of hours and angles that the security cameras represented created an insurmountable amount of footage. Because, of course, I had had the same thought already, about finding my father somewhere in all that tape.
“Well … can you get her password? Figure out how to get in there?”
It was strangely revealing what glimmers you could see of someone’s life in seven to ten characters. I would have loved to know what little scrap of herself Emily used for hers. “I don’t know about that either.”
“Please, Lily. At least try? I’m worried about Peaches. I gave her a reading, and it was dark.”
“That seems to be your specialty. But sure. Fine. I’ll see what I can do, but I’m definitely not making any promises.”
“Whoever sees her first can ask her about the purse, what day it was that she found it, and where it was. Maybe that will clarify what happened to the other woman, the first one. I wish I knew her name.”
“What about Julie?”
“I don’t know what to do about her yet. Let’s just start with Peaches and see where we get.” She pulled out one of her business cards and scribbled a number on the back. “I just added minutes to my phone, so you can text me if you find out anything. Here, give me yours. Oh, and what do you think about that guy you work with? The janitor?”
“You mean Luis?”
“Yeah. I see him around a lot. He gives me a bad feeling. Something’s up with him.”
“I mean, he’s mute and deaf, so I guess I don’t really know him well? He’s a little strange but no more than you’d expect.” Luis? What did Luis have to do with any of this?
“Well, that at least explains why he didn’t rat me out, I guess.”
I was about to ask her what she meant when a shadow crossed the shop and we both turned: a man stood in front of the window. Clara’s posture sagged. “Shit. You should probably go.”
“What’s that about, Clara? Anotherdate?”
“It’s complicated. Let’s just say fortune-telling doesn’t pay the rent anymore.”
“How do you find them?”
“Can we talk about this another time?”
“I mean, you’re worried about Peaches, but look at you. Also, how do you know that these guys aren’t cops?”
