Play Dead by John Levitt

supposed developer’s land grab involving the Point Reyes National Seashore. I don’t know where they got their information, but that was just not a realistic concern. Apart from the legal protections involved, the public would never stand for it. I asked a few questions, which were answered politely enough, but mostly just listened. Finally that paid off.
    “Is Melissa coming tonight?” asked one of the men. The way he asked made me think that saving the planet wasn’t his only interest in the group. Apparently others thought the same, since I caught a few knowing glances thrown between the others.
    “No, I don’t think so,” Haley said. “But Cassandra should be here soon. She’s talked to Melissa and she’ll know what the . . . status is.”
    She glanced over at me, not too subtly, making it clear she didn’t want it gone into with me there, at least not right now. But I wasn’t interested, anyway. I was interested in Cassandra, though, if she was tight with “Melissa.”
    About five minutes later the doorbell rang and Cassandra was ushered in. Again, not what I had expected. She was small, not quite five feet, with a neat afro and light brown skin. A dusting of freckles ran across the bridge of her nose, and when she smiled a greeting at the group, it stretched all the way across her face.
    If she knew Jackie, she might well be a practitioner herself. But I got no sense of that; if she was shielding, she was doing it well. I could probe her a little, but if she was a practitioner, she’d feel it and know I was one, too, and that wasn’t what I wanted at all.
    “Nothing new,” she said, in answer to the unspoken question from the group. “I’ll find out more by next week.” Her voice had a light and lilting Jamaican accent, just enough of one to fall pleasantly on the ears.
    Her announcement didn’t seem to be a big deal, though. Pretty soon they were all working out the logistics of a planned rally at City Hall next month. After that was finished, Haley brought out a little tray of cookies and pastry. Good thing Lou wasn’t here or there wouldn’t have been enough for everyone.
    I edged over toward Cassandra, trying to get a line on her, what she was about, anything that would make it seem natural for me to see her again. Apart from the obvious—she didn’t strike me as someone looking to hook up, even assuming I was irresistible. One of the women came up to her and gave her a hug.
    “Cass, I’ve just got to thank you again. You were absolutely right—it was a wrong choice, and the wrong person.” I gave an inquiring look, hoping to draw myself into the conversation, and the woman obliged. “Cassandra is a genius at arriving at the truth of a matter,” she said.
    “Really? Are you a therapist, Cassandra?”
    The woman laughed. “Not likely. Cassandra does readings, and they’re amazing.”
    “Oh? What kind of readings?”
    Cassandra shrugged. “Life. Love. Relationship problems. Psychic readings. Not the sort of thing you’d be interested in, I’d guess.”
    I put on my most charming smile. “You never know.” She looked at me skeptically. “Okay, you’re right,” I said, laughing. “It’s not my sort of thing, But my sister, now, she’s very much a believer, and she’s having some doubts about her boyfriend.”
    “I tell you, Cassandra is simply the best,” said the woman. Bless her.
    “How much do you charge?” I asked. Cassandra perked up with interest.
    “Two hundred dollars, usually. One hundred fifty for members of the group here.”
    “And worth every penny,” the woman put in.
    “Have you got a card?” I asked. Cassandra shook her head.
    “No, but I have some time tomorrow if you’re really interested.”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Do you know where the houseboats on Mission Creek are?”
    “I do. You live there? That’s fantastic.”
    “It is nice,” she said. “You can’t miss mine—it’s bright red, the only one like that there.” She took a scrap