“Yes. Cadence Ballantine said it was my calling. She was right.” Alice shook off the whisper of intimate connection with Owen (no time for that now) and walked deeper into the apartment. “Is there anything in particular that I should be looking for?”
“It would be great to find his phone, but I doubt we’ll get that lucky. He would have had it with him at the hotel. Whoever murdered him probably had the common sense to take it. But there should be other useful data lying around. Bank records. Bills. Late notices. That kind of thing.”
“Right,” she said.
There was no desk and no computer but there were various papers scattered about. Sticky notes. An old copy of theCurtain.A menu from a restaurant that promised delivery throughout the Shadow Zone.
“Are you picking up any sense of his talent?” she asked.
“Nothing unusual or high-rez,” Owen said. He closed the refrigerator. “He was just an ordinary guy.”
“Who made money taking videos of people who did not know they were on camera and then offering to sell the videos to his victims.”
“I doubt that you were his first target. If he used that mirror camerato record the kidnapping ten months ago, he probably worked at the hotel or had ready access to the rooms.”
“Maybe he was working for Kelbrook and Twitchell in some capacity and tried to take advantage of the situation by blackmailing me?”
“That’s a possibility.”
There was a short pause while Owen went through the pockets of a well-worn jacket. “But maybe I’m overthinking this. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
She saw that he had pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of one of the jacket pockets. She recognized the colorful logo immediately. Somewhere out on the psychic plane, alarm bells clanged.
“That’s a brochure from the Aurora Street Dream Clinic, where I work,” she said. “It lists the days and hours of the various services. He must have seen me on the street by chance and recognized me as the woman in the video.”
Owen studied the pamphlet and then tucked it into his jacket. “Maybe, but I don’t like coincidences, and that scenario doesn’t begin to explain everything.”
“He was never one of my clients.” She glanced around the dingy studio apartment. “It’s obvious he was struggling financially.”
“He was a gambler. We know that much from the comp cards in his wallet. Gamblers are always struggling financially.”
“In which case he probably took advantage of the food banks and street clinics from time to time. He could have seen me entering or leaving the Aurora Street clinic and recognized me.”
“Even allowing for coincidence, there are still a lot of questions. But I think we’ve seen enough. Let’s get out of here.”
“All right.” She looked around. “Sebastian? Where are you? We’re leaving, sweetie.”
There was a muffled chortle from under the lumpy sofa. Sebastianreappeared, eager to move on to the next adventure. He had a bent business card in one paw.
Alice scooped him up and took the card. “Let’s see what you found. ‘Madam Xirena. Psychic Financial Consultant. Fortunes read. Predictions provided. Take the risk out of gambling.’ ”
“Voyle was seeing a fortune-teller?” Owen said. He sounded intrigued.
“One who preys on people with gambling addictions, apparently. They are quite common here in Illusion Town.”
“That’s not a surprise. I don’t know what she charged, but judging by his apartment and his wardrobe, it doesn’t look like he got his money’s worth. It might be useful to talk to her, though.”
“I agree. People who go to storefront psychics wind up confiding all kinds of personal information.”
“Usually without being aware of it,” Owen said dryly. “Fortune-tellers are very, very good at reading their clients. Most of the ones I’ve met would make great police detectives. Is there an address on the card?”
“Yes. She’s here in the Shadow Zone.”
“Let’s go.” Owen looked at Sebastian. “Nice work, pal.”
Sebastian chortled in gracious acknowledgment of the compliment.
Alice paused on the threshold and surveyed the grubby studio one last time.
