Will Pay Handsomely

Henry thumbed through the Help Wanted section of the newspaper thoughtfully. He chewed the end of his highlighter as he scanned the different columns looking for something that might pop out at him.

"Let's see, let's see ..." he murmured to himself. The prospects weren't good. Companies were demanding either a ton of experience which he didn't have, or a ton of education ... which he also didn't have ... or they were offering really low wages for jobs that didn't require either one.

Or they required talent. Or for risks to be taken. Or both.

"Blind Chainsaw Carver?" he read aloud. "We require an individual to be an entertainer as they carve sculptures out of tree stumps with a chainsaw while blindfolded in front of a live audience. Artistic abilities necessary. Wait what?! But I can't even carve to begin with! And I've never even used a chainsaw before in my life, let alone while wearing a blindfold! That wouldn't go well at all!"

He crossed it out and continued scanning the column.

"Flaming Torch Juggler? Snake Venom Milker? Rollercoaster Tester? Are these people crazy?" He paused in reflection, imagining himself doing each of the jobs in turn. All of them ended horribly.

"There has got to be something that I can do! Something that doesn't require losing an arm or getting bitten by a rattlesnake! Something! Anything!"

His eyes landed on a tiny ad at the bottom.

Private Psychic Required. In-Home Session For An Elderly Disabled Woman. Will Pay Handsomely.

He sat back in his chair. Will pay handsomely? Handsomely? Who says that anymore?

Still deep in thought, Henry's eyes darted to a certificate on his wall, a diploma from when he was in acting school. Okay, well, to be fair it was from a course he took in summer school when he was a kid, and the certificate was basically just for participating ... but hey, he was still pretty good at improv.

"Hmm ... well ... I could pretend to be a psychic ... I would just have to look around the room for clues and basically tell her stuff she wants to know. Like, your deceased husband ... or parent ... or sibling ... or whoever ... misses you and wants to give closure ... blah blah blah ... "

He stroked his chin slowly. He stood up and began to pace back and forth.

"Okay so let's run through this and see how it sounds." He walked over to a floor-length mirror and held out his hand.

"Hello, Mrs. So-And-So, nice to meet you, my name is Henry Fischer and I'm a psychic. Who would you like me to contact for you today?"

He ran through his charade a few more times with different inflections and intonations until he felt he had it right.

"Yup I think I've got it, piece of cake!" He picked up the telephone and dialed the number in the advertisement.

A voice with a very strong British accent answered on the other end.

"Exmoor residence."

Henry took a deep breath.

"Hi, yes, um, I'm answering your ad in the paper looking for a psychic?" It was partway between a statement and a question.

Henry could almost hear in his voice the man's eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"You are a psychic?"

Henry faltered slightly but then pushed on.

"Uh ... yeah ... yes I am."

There was a long pause.

"One moment please." Abruptly the man's voice was replaced by elevator music. Henry looked up at the ceiling, wondering what he'd gotten himself into.

Almost as abruptly the music stopped and the man's voice returned with a British sigh.

"Very well. Come to this address in precisely one hour. Do you have a pen?"

Henry's eyes widened and he ran over to his desk.

"Yes, yes I do! Hang on a second!" He desperately scrambled through heaps of papers until finally coming up with half a pencil. He grabbed a scrap of paper and jotted down the address.

"Thank you! Thank you sir! I'll be there!"

The voice on the other end gave a slight "hmph" and then hung up.

Henry dashed to his bedroom and started rummaging through his closet.

"What does a psychic wear? Psychic ... psychic ... think, think! Aren't they normally gypsies? But I don't have any big hoop earrings! Or even a crystal ball!"

He stopped short and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Okay pull yourself together Henry! You are a modern-day psychic! Invent your own character! You can do this! But ... this psychic definitely can't be wearing this t-shirt and these jeans!"

After a bit more debating he settled on a dark navy long-sleeved shirt with collar and black dress pants. He slicked his hair back with gel and then checked his reflection in the mirror.

"Not bad, not bad at all. Introducing: Henry Fischer, Psychic!"

* * *

The drive to the Exmoor's went smoothly. Using GPS Henry found the street in a very wealthy part of town. He looked in awe at the towering mansions on either side, driving slowly so he could take in every detail. With only minutes to spare he pulled up at a closed gate with a speaker box at eye level. Rolling down his window he reached out and pushed the button.

"How may I help you?" droned the same British voice.

"Hi, uh, I'm the psychic who was on the phone?"

"Ah yes, you may proceed." With a clang the metal gate suddenly swung open, allowing him access to drive through. Henry drove up a long paved laneway for what seemed like forever until he rounded a bend and pulled up to what looked like a castle. In awe he parked and went up to the front door. He lifted the massive heavy door knocker in the shape of a lion's head and then let it drop with an echoing thud.

The thick door swung slowly open revealing a very tall gentleman in a butler's tuxedo. He seemed to have a permanently arched eyebrow.

"Mr. Fischer, I presume?"

"Yes, but you can call me Henry." He held out his hand. Mr. Eyebrow looked down at it and then back up to his face without taking the offered handshake.

"And I am Theodore. I am also unimpressed. Before we begin, Lady Exmoor would like to compensate you for your services in advance." He placed an envelope in Henry's hand.

Henry looked at the envelope with surprise.

"Oh wow okay! I haven't even done anything yet but thanks!"

He opened the envelope and took out the contents. A small black notebook and a check for $20,000.

Henry's jaw dropped and his face went white.

"Um ... I ... uh ... wow ... but this ... " He was at a loss for words. What had he gotten himself into?

"Follow me please." Theodore executed a brisk about-face and strode off. Scrambling to keep up, Henry followed.

They wandered through polished marble floors and pillars, lavish furnishings and priceless paintings and tapestries. Henry increased his pace until he was beside Theodore.

"Listen, uh, Theodore, sir, um, there must be some mistake ... I don't ... "

"You are saying that you are not a psychic?" Theodore barely glanced in his direction. "Of course you're not. But Lady Exmoor insisted. She said she has a good feeling about you. Do not disappoint her. And ... here we are."

They arrived at a large door and Theodore went to open it.

"Theodore wait! Um, is Lady Exmoor ... like ... does she have dementia or anything? Because I ... I don't want to unfairly take her money and this is a large amount and ... "

"No, she is quite sharp and has maintained her wit. She really wants to hear what you have to say."

Theodore pushed open the door and they entered. Inside were huge dressers and boudoirs and closets. In the middle of the room was a massive bed, on which lay Lady Exmoor, fluffed up with pillows.

"Come come boy, I haven't got all day!" Her accent matched Theodore's.

Hesitantly Henry moved to the side of her bed.

"Nice to meet you Lady Exmoor- ... "

"Yeah yeah, pish posh! What have you got for me?"

"Uh ... well ... what would you like to know?"

Behind him Theodore cleared his throat.

"Lady Exmoor would like for you to read her future." Henry thought he almost heard Theodore give a tiny smirk.

"Um, your future?" He looked at the old woman blankly. Theodore continued.

"Yes, she would like to know if she is going to marry or find a lover in the future, as well as any other details you may read."

Was that another smirk?

Lady Exmoor stared at Hendry expectantly. Henry swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Uh, may I ask ma'am, how old are you?"

"Ninety-seven."

Beads of sweat broke out on Henry's forehead.

"I ... um ... think ... well ... it's hard to say ... "

"While you are getting a reading on her future, she also would like you to contact the dead on her behalf."

"Okay ... uh ... who would she like me to contact?"

"In the small black notebook are clues."

Henry opened the notebook and thumbed through it. Inside were child-like drawings of pets.

"Wait ... you want me to contact your dog?"

Lady Exmoor nodded.

"And my cat, and my goldfish. That's my notebook from when I was a child and I used to draw pictures of them. I miss them so much and I just want to know that they miss me too."

Henry's brain went numb. He fumbled around for something to say. He looked into Lady Exmoor's hopeful eyes as she gazed at him expectantly.

He began to panic.

"Well I um ... can maybe get in touch with your uh ... dog ... and your ... cat. But ... your goldfish ... I'm not so sure ... "

He was suddenly interrupted by squeals of laughter as both Lady Exmoor and Theodore collapsed in hysterics. He stood there dumbfounded as they howled and pointed at each other and at Henry and then each other again.

"Wait what? This was all just a prank?"

Gasping for breath, Lady Exmoor was finally able to speak.

"My dear boy, I must apologize but the look on your face was absolutely priceless! You are the best one we've had yet!"

Henry managed a feeble laugh. "Oh wow okay ... I thought you were like really senile or completely crazy or something ... "

His remark only sent the Lady and her butler into more rounds of laughter. Henry could only stand there with a bewildered look on his face until they could compose themselves once again.

"Okay so ... I guess the joke's on me ... ha ha ... and I guess this money isn't real either ... "

Lady Exmoor threw her arms in the air.

"Oh goodness no my dear boy! It's all yours, you've earned every penny! Although ... I must say ... I do need that small black notebook back for my next victim ... "