Chapter Fifty-eight
Morris agreed with what Madame Asteria had told him over the phone several days earlier. At first glance she did look much younger than she was, and could easily be mistaken for someone in her twenties. He was confused, though, about the presence of the thirty something year-old hipster dude who was with her inside of her psychic studio and had introduced himself as Devlin Pavlovich, a TV producer.
“I have no interest in doing any interviews or being on a reality TV show,” he told Pavlovich.
Pavlovich smiled in a nervous, twitchy sort of way, possibly because of how Parker was staring at him. “That’s not why I’m here,” he said. “You called Madame Asteria about looking at a photo to see if it’s the same guy that she had called you about. I saw him also. In fact, I can show you a video recording of him.”
“Why’s that?”
His smile grew more nervous and twitchier as Parker continued to stare at him without blinking once. “I’m producing a reality TV show about Los Angeles psychics.”
“You recorded him via a hidden camera?”
“That’s right.”
“Did he ever find out about it?”
“He figured it out. It upset him when he did.”
“Am I being recorded now?” Morris asked.
“No, certainly not.”
Morris wasn’t sure whether Pavlovich was lying to him, but if he was there wasn’t anything he could do about it at this point. “Why don’t you show me that recording,” he said.
Pavlovich glanced quickly at Parker, and said, “The equipment is in a room behind this wall. It’s a small space. You should leave the dog out here.”
“I’ll keep this handsome guy company,” Madame Asteria volunteered, and she got down on her knees so she could wrap her arms around the dog’s neck and give him a hug. Parker looked embarrassed by this, but also as if he was enjoying the attention.
Pavlovich pushed next to a large mirror on the wall and a door opened, revealing a hidden room. Inside was a camera, a video monitor, and other equipment. Pavlovich played the video recording that showed Henry Pollard. He was older, of course, than his driver’s license photo, but it was the same man.
“I’m going to need a copy of this,” Morris said.
“Of course.”
When Morris walked back into Madame Asteria’s studio, the psychic looked up at him as she hugged Parker and could tell from Morris’s expression that it was the same man. She studied him knowingly. “I felt it so strongly at the time,” she said. “All that violence swirling around him. It was so thick, I could almost taste it. If he didn’t realize that he was being recorded, he would’ve killed me.”
Even though she didn’t ask it as a question, Morris nodded anyway. It didn’t take a psychic to know that was true.