Any Other Sunday

When he walked into the jewelry store, Hansen knew trouble was at hand. It wasn’t the presence of the officers, both men, even on a Sunday morning. His clients would question his ability of the psyche for not knowing what had happened but his ability was tactile and he had not yet touched anything. The door was automatic and he stood inside the entry, waiting to move, not wanting to attract unwanted or undue attention. Hansen felt the

As yet, the officers did not notice him, as they were studying the glass cases, the broken ones in particular. To Hansen, these two men looked perplexed and perhaps out of their league. Hansen left his judgment aside, just wanting to browse and possibly buy something nice for his dear. No one stopped him, so he started to one of the intact counters. After at least five minutes, one of the police took notice of Hansen.

“Hey, Mike, isn’t that that psychic?”

“Dunno, never seen him before.”

“You think he might be here because of this?”


Hansen, at this time, turned to the men and offered greetings.

“You gentlemen are investigating?” he asked.

“Yeah, we are. Why are you here?” asked Not-Mike.

“Just shopping.”

“Okay but why today? You trying to slip in on this investigation?” asked Mike.


“You think you can do a better job than the Grand City Police Department?”

“No. But you might want to take prints on that wall sconce there. And…” Hansen paused for a second, pretending to feel the energy despite wanting to laugh at the imminent ineptitude of these two civil servants, “…check the undamaged case over here.” He indicated the one away from where they were. “There seems to be some extra fibers wedged in the frame next to the glass.” He was reluctant to think what he would find if he made contact.

Mike and Not-Mike remained quiet, taking in the information or just resisting any other embarrassment.

“Yeah, we were just thinking that too,” said Not-Mike after a bit.


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