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P – Not Your Everyday Psychic

Not Your Everyday Psychic

A quarter past three a.m. the jewelry store guard snuck out the back door to spend some “quality time” with his girlfriend. He didn’t realize she was cheating on him with best friend. How cliché. He’d find out in a few months when she was unsure whose baby she was carrying. Too bad it’s his. Poor schmuck.
Three minutes later I waltzed into the store like I owned the place.
I grabbed a spare key from the office and unlocked the case with the fanciest jewelry. Sapphires, diamonds, and rubies sparkled in the dim light. I did the only sensible thing and tried on everything. I glanced at my watch, four minutes until I’m noticed. Selfie time. I took a few pictures and posted them online and decided I preferred the diamond choker to the sapphire tear drop, because it covered the liver spots, when the police entered the building to arrest me. Damn, was off by a minute.
I took them up on my right to remain silent as they booked me at the station. After the long exhausting process, I asked for a public defender and my phone call. My bones creaked a little more than usual from sitting in the hard plastic chairs.
I dialed my granddaughter’s number. “Leanne, I’ve been arrested.”
“Grams, is that you?” Leanne asked, half asleep.
“Yes hon. Can you please come pick me up?”
“Oh God. What did you do?” she asked, wide awake.
“Tried on jewelry.”
“They don’t arrest people for trying on jewelry Grams.”
“Check my post.”
I heard her tapping the screen of her phone.
“You posted pictures of breaking and entering online!”
“Just come to the station please. I love you,” I said and hung up the phone. One hour fifty-four minutes to kill.
I was escorted to a holding cell filled with a few criminals. To kill time I told them their futures. I love scaring folks back to their natural paths.
They pulled me into an interview room with a tall blond gentleman in a gray suit, with a bright red tie.
He extended his hand to me. “Hi Mrs. Webster. I’m Mr. Jackson, your public defender.” Instead of shaking his hand, I turned his watch towards me.
“Three, two, one,” I said, letting go of his arm and pointed to the door. Leanne burst into the room.
“Grams, they’re not going to let me take you home without paying bail. Do you realize how much trouble you’re in this time?”
“Leanne, this is my attorney Todd Jackson. Todd, my granddaughter.”
“Did I give my first name,” Todd asked. Leanne covered her face in embarrassment. She hates when I flaunt my gift.
“Todd, can I borrow your cell phone please?”
“No, I can’t do that,” he said, with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m going to simplify this by calling the DA. You can put it on speakerphone if you’d like.”
Leanne was staring daggers at me. I winked at her. Todd finally caved and dialed the number for me.
The DA answered. “Todd, what can I do for you?”
“Jason, this is Leona Webster. If you drop the charges against me I’ll help you solve the three files on your desk right now.”
“What?” he asked. I took the phone off speaker phone so he could hear me better.
“Check your email. I’m Leona Webster. I’ll wait,” I covered the receiver with my hand. “Sorry Todd, it will take twenty-seven minutes to convince him I’m not a fraud. Why don’t you take Leanne to get a cup of coffee so you can ask her out already. I’ll still be here.”
Leanne glared at me and then she connected the dots. “Grams, did you get arrested to introduce me to Todd?”
I shrugged. “This was the quickest way to get started on great-grandchildren. It would be five years before you two met naturally. I’m just speeding things up.”
Leanne sighed and covered her eyes with her hand.
“I’m so lost. What are you talking about?” he asked, glancing between us.
“Come on Todd, I’ll tell you the misfortune of having a psychic busy body in the family,” Leanne said, escorting him out of the room.

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About Perry

I'm a writer. I've always been fascinated by the paranormal, books, movies, unexplained mysteries. My fascination tends to creep into my writing.

Comments welcome.