Once inside, Evelynne sat him down at the table and unceremoniously plunked a cup of tea in front of him. She stood with her arms crossed, wearing the same impatient "Start talking, Kid" expression on her face as the morning she met Evelynne. The kid just blanked, and stared at his tea as if anything that wasn't soda or instant-juice-drink was poison. As Tracy walked in on the scene after hanging up the rifle, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Miss O'Brian certainly excels at making memorable first impressions." she thought to herself.
"So what's your name?" Tracy asked, as cheerfully as she could. "Travis Miller." He answered, dragging his feet a little on his words a little as he peered around. "Great, Travis," she continued, "My name is Tracy. Listen, I know you didn't mean to cause any trouble, but you gotta' tell us what you were up to over here. It's O.K. I promise, we're not as psycho as we look." Evelynne shot over a reproachful look that made Tracy twitch. Travis didn't seem to notice. "I told you, I'm a paying customer." he answered, "I think my brother was murdered, and--"
"No."
Evelynne's answer silenced the room so that you could hear a pin drop. "I don't investigate murders." she explained, "Take that case to the police where it belongs. No court will convict a killer based on some psychic reading, anyway." The kid jumped up out of his seat in a flash of anger. His hot cheeks made his freckles stand out furiously. "You're not even listening!" he shouted, "Why would I want to hire you if the cops could help me! You're like a totally last resort!" "Nice," she sneered back, "As flattering as that is, the answer is no. Go home. Tracy, call him a cab?" The kid glared. "This is bullsh--" "Watch your mouth with your elders, boy."
"Um, Miss O'Brian, where's the phone?" Tracy asked, in a can-you-help-me-in-the-kitchen tone of voice. Travis sat there and sulked as the two women stepped into the other room. "Miss O'Brian, WHY?" Tracy whispered, once they were out of his earshot, "This kid just wants your help. He lost his brother, for crying out loud. I thought this is what you do."
"Sorry, sweetheart," Evelynne whispered back, "I know it sounds harsh, but I don't do murders. That just opens up a whole new can of worms that I do not want to deal with."
"but Miss O'Brian--"
"NO. You don't even know what you're asking, here. I could get in a lot of trouble knowing things that technically only the murderer is supposed to know. Not to mention a whole host of other dangers that come from trying to read the scene of a violent death. I could get hurt. It's not worth it."
"He probably wasn't even murdered! The kid already went to the cops. If there was foul play, they would have found out in their investigation. Right? He's probably just scared, and upset, and wants some kind of closure."
"I'll give him the number of a nice psychiatrist, then. I'm sorry. I can't help him. Call the cab."
Tracy didn't say another word as she looked up the number, and made the call. Evelynne went back in the other room, not minding her. She had a feeling Tracy would think she was a little harsh, but that's too bad. No way was she putting her neck on the line.
Yet, when she walked into the other room, she caught a glimpse of the kid before he knew he was being watched. His back was turned, and he was looking down at the floor as he waited. It wasn't anything specially dramatic or pathetic, but Evelynne could sense one thing as clear as day; hopelessness. He was thoroughly convinced that something happened to this brother of his, and had thoroughly exhausted any means he had of finding out what. Evelynne silently groaned... rrgh.. sometimes that damn conscience thing is annoying.
"So," Evelynne began, still trying to keep up appearances with a pale imitation of the annoyed tone in her voice from before, "How exactly do you plan to pay for me?" The boy's eyebrows perked up. "I inherited a little bit from my brother," he answered optimistically, "Does this mean you're gonna' do it?" Evelynne took a notebook out of her blouse-pocket, and marked down a couple notes as she spoke. "It means I'll take a look. I can't make any promises about anything else. Especially considering, chances are, there's nothing there."
On the other side of the door, Tracy was listening in as Travis told Evelynne what he already knew. She did a little victory dance in her own head. Maybe Miss O'Brian wasn't quite as grumpy and unsympathetic as she seemed. Besides, this would be Tracy's first investigation, and she was looking forward to finally getting her adventure after all.
"No."
Evelynne's answer silenced the room so that you could hear a pin drop. "I don't investigate murders." she explained, "Take that case to the police where it belongs. No court will convict a killer based on some psychic reading, anyway." The kid jumped up out of his seat in a flash of anger. His hot cheeks made his freckles stand out furiously. "You're not even listening!" he shouted, "Why would I want to hire you if the cops could help me! You're like a totally last resort!" "Nice," she sneered back, "As flattering as that is, the answer is no. Go home. Tracy, call him a cab?" The kid glared. "This is bullsh--" "Watch your mouth with your elders, boy."
"Um, Miss O'Brian, where's the phone?" Tracy asked, in a can-you-help-me-in-the-kitchen tone of voice. Travis sat there and sulked as the two women stepped into the other room. "Miss O'Brian, WHY?" Tracy whispered, once they were out of his earshot, "This kid just wants your help. He lost his brother, for crying out loud. I thought this is what you do."
"Sorry, sweetheart," Evelynne whispered back, "I know it sounds harsh, but I don't do murders. That just opens up a whole new can of worms that I do not want to deal with."
"but Miss O'Brian--"
"NO. You don't even know what you're asking, here. I could get in a lot of trouble knowing things that technically only the murderer is supposed to know. Not to mention a whole host of other dangers that come from trying to read the scene of a violent death. I could get hurt. It's not worth it."
"He probably wasn't even murdered! The kid already went to the cops. If there was foul play, they would have found out in their investigation. Right? He's probably just scared, and upset, and wants some kind of closure."
"I'll give him the number of a nice psychiatrist, then. I'm sorry. I can't help him. Call the cab."
Tracy didn't say another word as she looked up the number, and made the call. Evelynne went back in the other room, not minding her. She had a feeling Tracy would think she was a little harsh, but that's too bad. No way was she putting her neck on the line.
Yet, when she walked into the other room, she caught a glimpse of the kid before he knew he was being watched. His back was turned, and he was looking down at the floor as he waited. It wasn't anything specially dramatic or pathetic, but Evelynne could sense one thing as clear as day; hopelessness. He was thoroughly convinced that something happened to this brother of his, and had thoroughly exhausted any means he had of finding out what. Evelynne silently groaned... rrgh.. sometimes that damn conscience thing is annoying.
"So," Evelynne began, still trying to keep up appearances with a pale imitation of the annoyed tone in her voice from before, "How exactly do you plan to pay for me?" The boy's eyebrows perked up. "I inherited a little bit from my brother," he answered optimistically, "Does this mean you're gonna' do it?" Evelynne took a notebook out of her blouse-pocket, and marked down a couple notes as she spoke. "It means I'll take a look. I can't make any promises about anything else. Especially considering, chances are, there's nothing there."
On the other side of the door, Tracy was listening in as Travis told Evelynne what he already knew. She did a little victory dance in her own head. Maybe Miss O'Brian wasn't quite as grumpy and unsympathetic as she seemed. Besides, this would be Tracy's first investigation, and she was looking forward to finally getting her adventure after all.
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