“She cursed me,” Fitch whispered.
Maddox frowned. “Will you shut it?”
“I think she did curse him,” Gaspar murmured. “My Spanish is rusty but I swear it had something to do with Fitch’s manly parts.”
“Silence!” Veda commanded.
After missing Coulter at his motel, Gaspar, Maddox, and Fitch were at The Magic Wand, Veda’s small magic shop on Haight. Veda was supposedly a witch, and Maddox thought she fit the bill. She had long silver hair, a hooked nose, and eyes that seemed to pierce right through them.
According to Vivica, Veda possessed a weak but true second sight, and her specialty was divining.
Maddox thought another one of Veda’s specialties was marketing. Tarot cards, candles, and charms filled the shelves, and judging by the silver Mercedes parked outside, business was good.
“The name!” Veda barked.
“Coulter Marshall,” Maddox supplied.
Fitch nudged Gaspar. “Wonder why she needs a Benz when a broomstick would beat traffic?” The two men snickered.
Maddox leaned toward them. “Do you want to keep making jokes or do you want to find this guy? Hmm…what option would Vivica prefer?”
Fitch and Gaspar settled back in their seats with various expressions of annoyance and fear. But they were quiet.
“Now.” Veda beamed. “Let me look into my crystal ball.”
It was too much. Even Maddox began snickering.
Veda looked up. “There is too much negative interference. I can’t see anything.”
Fitch coughed into his hand. “Fraud.”
“Anyone smell snake oil?” Gaspar questioned.
Maddox pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. “If you want us to cross your palm with silver, lady, I’m going to need more.”
Veda frowned and returned to her crystal ball. “I see sawdust on the floor. Dancing. Not too far from here.” She threw up her hands. “Nothing else. My head pains me. Leave.”
“Country-western bar,” Maddox said.
Gaspar pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll get a list of all the potentials in the area.”
“Let’s go.” Fitch rose. “I think she gave me hives.”
“You’re too impressionable.” Maddox tossed the money on the table, and the three men walked out.
Veda glared at their backs.
The crystal ball was just for effect. As soon as she’d been given the details, a location had formed in her mind. A place she knew well.
The Rockin’ Rodeo on Fulton.
Thursday was Ladies’ Night.
But she didn’t tell Vivica’s men that. She pocketed the money. “Dumbshits,” she muttered.