Louise says as she makes her way across the kitchen and pauses by the door, staring along the corridor that leads to the bedrooms. She stops for a moment, as if she’s concentrating on some hidden force, and then finally she turns to me. “There is a presence here. I noticed it before I even got in the door.” “See?” Jacqui adds, nudging me in the arm. “I told you she’s good.” Although I force a smile, I can’t help feeling that this whole thing is a sham. It’s been almost a week since Jacqui first gave me the psychic’s number, and although I dragged my feet about calling, I was eventually persuaded to give it a shot. I’ve been dreading the whole thing, and now my worst fears seem to be coming true: Louise Redmond, the psychic Jacqui thinks is so goddamn brilliant, seems so far to be nothing more than a confidence trickster, like something from a bad TV show. Still, I figure my best bet is just to let her do her thing and wait for her to leave. “How many physical manifestations have you seen in the house?”
