a terrible gift.
Only two of the psychics I'd met managed to live just like ordinary people, but those two were exceptions. And neither of them was Xylda, of course.
Looking gloomy but resigned, Tolliver led Xylda into the cafe and helped her take her awful coat off. He left to get our drinks, while I settled Xylda in at a little table as far from other patrons as I could manage, given that the coffee shop wasn't a large business. I took a deep breath and tried to fix an understanding smile on my face.
Xylda clutched my hand, and I had to bite my lower lip to keep from yanking it away. Casual touching is not comfortable for me, and she'd already held onto me twice; but I reminded myself that Xylda must have a reason for the deliberate contact. As I knew from her own account at a previous meeting, Xylda was being bombarded with images from me. She'd explained it to me once when she'd been having a good day, back when Robert had been alive. "It's like watching a very fast slide show," she'd said. "I see pictures, pictures of the life of the person I'm touching, some from the past and some from the future and some..." She'd fallen silent and shaken her head.
"Do they all come true?" I'd asked.
"I have no way of knowing. I know they might come true." Xylda looked at me now, and her blue eyes really saw me. "In the time of ice, you'll be so happy," she said.
"Good," I said, having no idea what she was talking about. But that was the way of conversations with Xylda, if you could call this a conversation.
"You can't keep lying," Xylda said gently. "You have to stop doing that. It won't hurt anyone."
"I think I'm truthful," I said, surprised. Many things I could be accused of, and my accuser would be right. But not this.
"Oh, you're truthful about the things that don't matter."
"Did someone come to Memphis with you, Xylda?"
"Yes, Manfred did."
"Where is Manfred?" I wasn't completely sure who Manfred was, but learning someone had charge of Xylda was a relief.
"He's parking the car. There wasn't a space."
"Oh, good," I said, relieved to hear such a prosaic explanation. Tolliver arrived at the table with our drinks. Xylda seemed glad to get the coffee, which was redolent of vanilla and sugar, and she swirled in even more sugar with the little brown plastic stirrer. Mine was regular coffee, and Tolliver had gotten hot chocolate. "Tolliver, Xylda says Manfred is with her."
He raised his eyebrows in query, so he didn't know who that was, either. I shrugged. "She says he's out parking the car."
Tolliver stood and stared out the glass windows, then began waving vigorously to someone. "I think I spotted him." he said, sinking back into his chair. "He's coming in." Tolliver was smiling broadly.
"He's a good boy," Xylda said. She smiled at us. "Listen, I hear you found the Morgenstern girl." Suddenly, she sounded completely practical and all present and accounted for, mentally.
"Yes," I said.
"You know, they called me in."
"Yeah?"
"It wasn't the boy," Xylda said. "There was passion involved. But there was no sex with the little girl."
"Okay," I said. "Then why was she killed?"
"I don't know," Xylda said. She looked down into her coffee cup.
See what I mean about psychics being very little help?
"But I know you'll find out," Xylda said, and she looked up at me very sharply. "I won't be there to see it, but you'll find out."
"Are you going to a different city? Have you got another booking?"
"Yes," she said quite definitely. "I have another booking. You know, I'm the real thing, and people know that when they meet me."
"Yes, they do," Tolliver agreed, and then a thin young man came up to us, dressed all in black. This was Manfred, I assumed.
"I saw her surprise you," Manfred said cheerfully. "Sorry about that. Are you her friends? She said she had to meet some friends here."
Amazing. Xylda's psychic ability had led her to meet with us outside a Cineplex. Manfred was a narrow-shouldered young man in his late teens or early twenties. He had a narrow face and slicked-back peroxided hair, a matching goatee, and at least one tattoo visible on the side of his neck. He had a face decorated with many piercings and his hands were covered with silver rings.
He matched Xylda, in an odd sort of way.
"I'm Tolliver Lang and this is Harper Connelly," Tolliver said. "Are