Live and Let Drood

couldn’t have looked more fake if it tried.
    “That’s the point!” said Molly, when I expressed this view to her. “No one would ever think to find the real thing here, looking like that.…Would they?”
    I looked the tent over carefully. “Who’s she hiding from?”
    “Pretty much everybody,” said Molly. “Madame O has conned, double-crossed, and done dirt to practically everyone in our game you can think of at one time or another. And, yes, very definitely including your family. During her long, involved and decidedly underhanded career, Madame O has been run out of every major city you can name, and some that aren’t even there anymore. Her trouble is, she’s got no self-control. She sees something she wants and she goes for it. Just grabs it and runs, and to hell with the consequences. Why are you looking at me like that?”
    “Thought you were describing someone else for a moment,” I said smoothly. “Do carry on.”
    “Madame O was my mentor, for a time,” said Molly. “Taught me everything I know about taking advantage of the world. Well, not everything, but you’d be surprised.…”
    The hand-painted sign set up on an easel at the entrance to the tent read MADAME OSIRIS. KNOWS ALL, SEES ALL, TELLS ALL.
    “For the right price,” said Molly. “Madame O never gave away anything in her life.”
    I looked at the sign. “Tell me that’s not her real name.”
    “Of course not!” said Molly. “To start with, Osiris is a man’s name. One of the old male Egyptian gods. You see, you can learn things from watching old mummy movies. I don’t think anyone knows Madame O’s real name. According to old magical tradition, to know the true name of a person or an object is to have power over it. As long as I’ve known her, it’s always been Madame O-something. When I first met her in Vienna all those years ago, she was passing herself off as Madame Olivia, Daughter of the Night and Disciple of Darkness. She was a bit old for the badger game even then, but she still had a certain glamour.…She could make grown men give up their credit card details and pin numbers just by looking at them in a certain way. She taught me all I know about deviousness and debauchery. Including that thing I do with my fingertips that you really like…”
    “Far too much information,” I said. “Can we trust her?”
    “Of course not.”
    “Then why are we here?”
    “Because she knows things, sweetie.”
    “Can we trust her to tell us the truth?”
    “If we lean on her hard enough. We don’t have enough money to bribe her.”
    I shrugged. “She’s your friend.”
    “There are friends…and there are friends,” said Molly. “And Madame O is neither.”
    She slapped aside the tent flap and strode in. I followed, carefully pulling the tent flaps closed behind me. I didn’t want us being interrupted. Inside there was hardly any room to move, the lighting was kept deliberately gloomy so you couldn’t tell how cheap the place was, and there was nothing in any way mystical about the atmosphere. The only light came from half a dozen candles in a cheap candelabra, illuminating the table and two chairs set up. The crystal ball on the table looked impressive enough at first glance; but I’ve spent enough time around the real thing to know a fake when I see one.
    Madame Osiris sat on the far side of the table, carefully positioned to be half-hidden in the shadows. A lady of a certain age, solidly built and wrapped in traditional gypsy robes, she looked like she could punch her weight. Her bare muscular arms were covered in cheap and tacky multicoloured bangles that clattered loudly against one another with every movement, while her long-fingered hands caressed the crystal ball in a disturbingly sensuous way. She had a handsome enough face with a good bone structure, under industrial strength makeup, topped with a silk turban. She bestowed on Molly and me a wide professional smile and launched into what was clearly a well-practiced routine, addressing us both in a rich smoky voice.
    “Enter, dear friends, into the Mysteries of the Hereafter! Learn what the future has in store for you! And together we shall—Oh, bloody hell. It’s you, Molly Metcalf.”
    Madame Osiris pushed her chair back from the table, allowing the candlelight to illuminate her fully, the better to glower fiercely at Molly.
    “Nice to see you again too, Madame O,” Molly said cheerfully. “Don’t get up. We’re not staying. And