Relax, Anjali told herself, blinking in the bright lights the camera crew had set up. It’s a public access station. Not CNN.
Seated diagonally across from her in one of the parlor’s Windsor chairs, Coulter was more than relaxed. He was having the time of his life.
She watched as he smiled straight into the camera. “Actually, Diana, I didn’t realize I could move people with my mind until a cute but crazy lesbian attacked me with a gun.”
Diana Moss, the elegant blond features reporter for the local San Francisco morning show Wake Up San Francisco, kept her eyes trained on Coulter. “Well, you know what they say; a man’s greatest asset is his mind.”
Coulter’s lips curved in an easy smile. “And mine is bigger than most.”
Scott cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and leaned forward. “What Coulter means to say is that studies have shown that psychics, people with ESP, use a part of their brain that is closed to most. The ability is present in every human being; the reason why some can access it and the rest of us cannot is a mystery.”
Diana managed to move her gaze from Coulter to Scott. “I see.”
Anjali didn’t think she did.
“Now, guys, let’s talk tough.” Diana cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes in what Anjali thought was a bad imitation of Barbara Walters. “You’ve solved a number of cases. Your last case—the Booth House in Pacific Grove—will be airing on the SciFi Channel. The producers of the piece vouch for you. But for most of us, when we hear the word psychic, we think con artist.”
Anjali sensed a slight stiffening in Coulter at the last word.
“I don’t blame you,” Scott replied. “Most psychics are frauds.”
“And how do we know that you aren’t one of them?” Diana argued.
“Because,” Coulter drawled, “we can prove it. You first, Angel.”
Diana looked down at her cards. “Anjali Kumar? Now, you’re empathic, right? You can read people’s thoughts, their emotions?”
Anjali looked down at her hands. “Right.”
Diana smiled challengingly. “Can you tell me what I’m thinking?”
Anjali looked up and focused on her.
How is this supposed to make me look like a serious journalist? Next thing you know I’ll be interviewing Bigfoot.
Anjali’s smile was cool. “I don’t think you can get Bigfoot. I hear he’s doing Conan.”
Diana’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my…I was just thinking that! I was! Now wait…what else am I thinking?”
Anjali took a moment and then gazed at her in disbelief. “Your favorite movie is Showgirls?”
Diana sat back in the chair and waved her notes like a fan. “Wow!”
“Ah…we’re still rolling,” the cameraman said after a few moments.
Diana sat up. “Right.” She turned to Scott. “Now what exactly is your gift?”
Scott looked annoyed. “I don’t have one.”
“Too bad.” Diana’s gaze moved from Scott to Anjali. “Do any of you see dead people?
Anjali almost raised her hand. “I can’t see them but I can communicate with them.”
Coulter grinned. “She’s like some cosmic umbilical cord to the spirit world.”
Anjali thought about putting that catchphrase on a business card.
Diana’s eyes widened. “Do you…are you talking to the dead right now? Because my uncle Joseph passed away unexpectedly and his estate is in probate hell and—”
“No,” Anjali said quickly. “It doesn’t work like that, at least not for me. I can’t speak for other psychics, of course, but dead people don’t come knocking. Their spirits are usually tied to a place.”
“I see. Is there a way for us to know if those we care about are at peace? If they miss us?”
“I don’t know,” Anjali said. And that was the honest truth. Just because she was psychic didn’t mean she was privy to any sort of privileged information like, say, Moses or Mohammed. She didn’t know if there was a heaven or a hell, a nirvana or a celestial Playboy Mansion filled with large-breasted virgins.
Diana and the cameramen were all looking at her, disappointment etched into their faces. She tried to think of something upbeat. “Listen, none of you needs a psychic to tell you how a departed loved one feels. Only you can know that. Look in your heart. If someone special in your life has passed on and you miss them, it stands to reason that they miss you too.”
Diana smiled. “I’ve never heard it expressed quite like that. I like your point. Although I doubt some of the celebrity psychics would agree.”
“I could care less.”
Diana looked at her thoughtfully. “Okay, I can’t resist. I have to ask. Recently, a very well-known psychic was on a talk show and she said the End of Days is near. She predicted the Apocalypse. Your thoughts?”
Anjali shook her head in disgust. “This is why psychics get a bad name. Apparently, we can predict global catastrophes but can’t tell you if it’s going to rain next Monday.”
Diana laughed. “I have wondered about that.”
Anjali sat forward. “I believe there are certain things in life we are not meant to know the answers to. Is there a God? How was the universe created? How old is Dick Clark? And when is the world going to end?”
Scott winked at her and she sat back, smiling.
“I understand,” Diana said. She turned to Coulter and smiled. “Now Mr. Marshall, if you don’t mind? How about a little show?”
Coulter rubbed his hands. “Right. And I thought I was just gonna sit here and look pretty.” His eyes moved around the room, then came to rest on the chair Diana was sitting in.
It began to move.
Diana was clueless until the cameraman gasped. By the time she looked down, her chair had risen four inches. She cried out. “Oh my God!”
“Coulter.” Scott pointed to the floor, indicating he should cease and desist.
Slowly the chair lowered until it was touching the ground. There was a moment of hushed silence, and then Diana and the cameraman began clapping.
It wasn’t exactly the thunderous applause of Madison Square Garden, but Anjali could tell Coulter was pleased. He jumped out of his chair and bowed.
At the very least, she thought, Coulter was good for ratings.