I knew I shouldn’t have gone out. The sky was overcast when I got up in the morning and that always means I’m going to have a bad day. But it’s overcast here nine days out of ten, so you can’t just stay in bed most of the time.

I needed to know something about the jewellery Artie and I stole together. The only problem was that he’d got himself killed after he’d stashed it someplace. And I didn’t know where that someplace was. So, I was going to see Madam Zuma to either contact Artie or find out where she thought the vibes said to look for it.

I didn’t know how much I’d need to tell her to find out what I needed to know and I couldn’t be sure how likely she’d be to report me to the cops or just refuse to aid and abet a criminal like me. So, I had to see her in person in case I needed to add a little “disappearing act” to my potential rap sheet.

You might think she would know what to expect and refuse to see me but her ads make a big deal about her not being able to see anything that relates to herself. This, she explains, is why she’s not a multi-billionaire and retired to the south of France. It makes sense to me.

So, I got myself all tidied up and set off, taking my umbrella in case the overcast decided to overflow. My appointment was at 3pm and I pulled up outside her house just before that time. I looked all around to make sure I could easily make a quick getaway later if I needed to. Everything seemed quiet and uncluttered; I hoped that would last.

When I went to knock on her door, I saw the knocker was the brass head of some kind of mythical creature. There was something about it that made me want to keep my fingers well away from its teeth, so, I just used my knuckles instead.

Madam Zuma answered the door quite quickly anyway. She looked just like her picture: petite and dark-haired, dressed in jeans and a top. There was nothing about her that would make you think “psychic” if you saw her in the supermarket. She invited me in.

Inside was also ordinary, suburban decor. No crystal balls or shrunken heads or even any incense burning. She offered me a cup of tea but I declined. Well, you just don’t know, do you? We sat opposite each other at her dining table.

“Cross my palm with silver, pretty gentleman.” Now, she’d told me to bring one silver coin with me, credit cards notwithstanding, so I got it out of my pocket and handed it to her, hoping there was enough silver in it to do the trick. I noticed her hands were warmer than mine as the transfer was made. It really would be a shame to have to kill her and make all that warmth fade into eternal cold.

Nonetheless, I told her my problem straight out, because there’s no point in going fishing if you don’t bait the hook. She closed her eyes for a few moments, opened them and then spoke quite matter-of-factly. “I’m afraid your friend is burning in hell. It’s going to be quite difficult to get any information from him as he’s screaming constantly and can’t really think of anything except the pain that he’s in all the time. So, asking him where he put the jewellery seems to be off the cards, so to speak."

I shifted in my chair and wondered if she were giving me the run-around. The gun in my pocket seemed to weigh a little bit heavier. But then she looked me straight in the eye and smiled. “We’ll just have to concentrate on homing in on the jewellery itself, try and winkle it out of its hiding place. Won’t we?” I swallowed hard and nodded; suddenly I wasn’t so sure there wasn’t some incense nearby.

Madam Zuma closed her eyes again and began slowly rocking back and forth. After awhile, she began humming softly to herself. I began sweating and would have taken off my jacket except for the gun that I needed to keep close.

“I can feel them,” she said from within her trance. “I can just about see them now…And there they are! Clear as a bell, all tucked safely inside a little box.” Her eyes sprang open and back to looking completely normal, she said, “I’ll just write down the address for you.”

As she went away to get a pen and piece of paper, I couldn’t believe how well this had gone. Of course, she could be sending me on a wild goose chase, so I’d have to wait till I actually had the loot in my hands before I tidied her up with my gun.

Smiling, she handed me the piece of paper and, again, our fingers touched. Things blurred slightly for a second, I blinked my eyes and they recovered. I looked down at what she had written and blinked again. The address she’d written was her address. I looked up at her and I could feel the puzzlement on my face.

“Yes,” she said, “the jewellery is here.” She reached behind her and took a small box I hadn’t noticed from the table. Opening it, she poured the contents into my hands. It was, indeed, the entire haul that Artie and I had stolen, that he had then hidden somewhere and which I had been certain was lost forever.

I knew I shouldn’t have done it but I grabbed her and kissed her. “There will be plenty of time for that later; I have another client coming in a few minutes. Just put the jewellery back into the box for now.”

I poured the whole, lovely stream of gold and gems back into the box and I could feel myself sliding in along with it. I looked up at her smiling face as she put the lid back on the box and I knew I’d never see another overcast sky again.

Susan Cornford is a retired public servant, living in Perth, Western Australia. She/her has pieces published or forthcoming in 365 tomorrows, Ab Terra Flash Fiction, AHF Magazine, Akashic Books Fri Sci-fi, Altered Reality Magazine, Antipodean Science Fiction, Corner Bar Magazine, Frost Zone Zine, Fudoki Magazine, Granfalloon Magazine, The Mythic Circle, Speculative 66, Theme of Absence, The Were-Traveler and Wyldblood Magazine.