2. Introductions (D1)

(D1)
__R. Lee stood transfixed, his eyes drilling white hot holes through the woman standing before him. Did he hear right? Did she just say what he thought she said? His gaze was a dare, locked on her timid face, as he opened the case and withdrew the pistol.
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__Ardelene began to shake uncontrollably. She couldn't move or turn away. Somehow what she was seeing was a continuation of the vision that electrified her skin moments ago. Barely aware of the movements of the man's scarred hand, she felt locked in place.
__It wasn't until her next blink that she noticed the pistol in his hand, rising from the case, pointing toward her heart. She whined, "No."
__The weapon discharge and the pain of the impact against her left breast made Ardelene jolt, but before the darkness took her she had a moment to marvel at two things: how quiet the gun was, and how sleepy she suddenly....
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__R. Lee returned the dart gun to the case, smiling briefly in awe of himself for having the forethought to re-load it after he used it to knock out the lawyer that morning. It was unfortunate that he didn't have another tranquilizer to lock into the chamber now. You never knew who you might have to shoot next.
__That thought jiggled in front of him a carrot of paranoia and he drew the nine millimeter Glock from the small of his back. With the smoothness of a jungle cat, R. Lee moved silently to the door and switched off the neon pink PSYCHIC sign, turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED, then locked the door. Then he searched the building.
__The roadside Psychic Reader Parlor was nothing more than a tiny ranch house on the brim of a cornfield. The main room was a illuminated by looping strands of white Christmas tree lights and the orange glow of a spherical lamp on the central table. Lame, R. Lee mused, that she uses a cheap kiddy night light as her crystal friggin' ball. A second-hand couch with a red tasseled cover sat to the side. A fan of magazines sat on a crooked coffee table in front of it. The room smelled faintly of must, incense, and cheap pine furniture cleaner. Below that, the aroma of stale cigarettes.
__Through a beaded doorway was a kitchenette dominated by a card table with a small TV on it. An ash tray full of butts explained the wreak in the room as well as the burnt yellow finish of the formerly white walls. The refrigerator contained half a two liter of Pepsi, a bag from Arbys, a loaf of wheat bread, and a jar of peanut butter. Muttering to himself, "No refrigeration required," R. Lee took out the peanut butter and placed it in an overhead cabinet devoid of anything except a Mickey Mouse mug.
__In a short hall beyond the kitchen, R. Lee found a back door blocked by a desk and two doors.
__Behind one was a three quarter bathroom. Behind the other, a bedroom with an unmade bed. He spent no time searching the rooms. He could see from a glance they were both a mess. And empty. The psychic woman seemed to be the only resident. Good. This bad stop in the middle of nowhere should be fairly simple after all.
__Except for one thing: the reason he had to take her down to begin with.
__Returning to the main room, R. Lee squatted to examine the woman. She lay on her back where the tranquilizer dropped her. Her arms and legs were bent at opposite angles forming a a human Swastika. She looked to be in her late thirties, early forties, but it was tough to tell because she was attractive despite the obvious smoking habit. Why would such a gorgeous creature make her insides so ugly? He mused. The woman wore what R. Lee figured to be a some kind of gypsy costume, a long skirt and richly-patterned blouse. A head wrap trimmed with tiny dangling crystals matched the dark green beaded shawl that hung loose around her shoulders.
__He pressed the back of his hand against her long smooth throat and felt a pulse and a rhythmic rush that accompanied the rise and fall of her chest. Though she was breathing heavily, the woman's pulse was slow and steady.
__R. Lee grabbed her wrists and dragged her toward the couch. Nudging the coffee table aside with his boot, he hooked his hands under her armpits and hoisted her onto the couch in an angled sitting position. Then he went back to the case on the center table, removed a pair of handcuffs, and returned to the woman. He pulled her arms back and cuffed her hands behind her before leaning her back and gently resting her head on a beaded throw pillow on one end of the couch.
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__Ardelene's dream was hot with rushes of ice water that shocked periodically through her veins. In the dream, she was in Whisper Woods on the far west side of town. She was breathless, running from a man chasing her. Though the man carried a shovel and rake clumsily in one hand and dragged a full-sized man by the necktie by the other, he was gaining on her. She could feel his hot breath as he came closer and closer, fury burning his dark eyes.
__Waking with a gasp, Ardelene choked on her own saliva and tried to wipe her eyes and face but her hands were somehow trapped behind her.
__"Good morning, gorgeous," came a resonant voice. Recognizing it, she snapped to a full waking position and sat upright on the couch.
__"W-Who--?" Ardelene meant to ask more than that, but she felt her own words die with the futility of asking. She knew he wasn't the one to answer questions, but knew also that there was no way she could answer the one in particular he would throw at her.
__To Ardelene's surprise, the man smiled, pulled a chair over from the reading table, turned it so its back faced her, and straddled it. His smile was slippery but confident. He said, "My name is R. Lee Munson. Never mind what the R stands fer. I never did care for it."
__His accent betrayed him as a local though she had never seen him before.
__"What's your name, honey?" He asked. Then he produced a pack of Marlboro Lights from a pocket, a pink flamingo lighter from another, and proceeded to light up. Ardelene followed every movement of his hands, how they boldly produced her cigarettes and lighter. He was in charge. That's what that was saying.
__After a long drag, he blew smoke toward her. "I asked politely."
__Inhaling the second-hand cloud and longing for a drag of the real thing, Ardelene said, "My name's Ardelene. Ardelene Jacobi, but my friends call me Ardy."
__He smiled wide behind the hand holding the cigarette. "Like Arty the Smarty? The cartoon fish?"
__"A-r-d-y. Short for Ardelene."
__"Never heard o' that name before."
__"Was my gram's."
__"She long dead?"
__Ardy nodded solemnly. "Long time," she confessed.
__"Ardy." He appeared to taste the name as he repeated it two more times in different tones. "I like it. It suits you, but not the gypsy you."
__She shrugged, felt her chin quiver as new tears welled up.
__"No, no, no," R. Lee barked, standing and pushing the chair noisily aside. "You're not gonna break down on me. Not when we're off to such a super start."
__She sniffed and glanced toward the tissue box on a narrow shelf in the corner.
__R. Lee glanced where she looked, crossed over to the shelf, and plucked down the box. He returned to her and sat next to her on the couch. Pulling a couple of tissues, he gently dabbed her eyes before wiping away the smudges and lines of mascara.
__"You shouldn't wear make-up," he said as he studied her skin beneath the coloring he removed. "You've got a warm face."
__Ardy sniffed. "Thank you," she whispered weakly. Again, the chin quivered. She couldn't help it.
__"Stop it!" He bolted up from the couch and began pacing. "I hate that water works crap. Women should be stronger than that!"
__Chin still quivering, but tears drying up, Ardy stammered, "W-Why are you doing this?"
__R. Lee Munson paced two more circuits before stopping and turning toward her. He smiled. "I was just gonna stop in until the rain quit, but then I sees you n'--."
__Ardy blinked.
__"How did you know about Clye?" He asked. "I thought this psychic junk was all fake."
__"So did I," she said. Her voice was as cracked as her soul felt. "So did I."