Sweet Fortune

Susan of it. Do you understand, Mrs. Attwood?”
    “Yes, yes, I understand. But I have to try. I have to get my Susan out of the clutches of DEL.”
    “All right,” Jessie said, making her decision on a crest of rising enthusiasm. “Valentine Consultations will take the case.”
    Mrs. Attwood blinked in the face of Jessie's new gung-ho attitude. “Thank you.” She opened her purse. “I've brought some things along. A picture of Susan. Her last letter. There isn't much. If you can think of anything else you might need, let me know.”
    Her first real case . Jessie picked up the photo of a shyly smiling young woman who appeared to be about twenty years old. She wore glasses and her hair was tied back in a ponytail. There was something rather innocent and naive about Susan Attwood's face. She looked as though she had grown up in a small farm town, not a city.
    “I will certainly keep you informed, Mrs. Attwood. And don't worry, I'll get started on this right away. In fact, I'm going to consult with Mrs. Valentine immediately.”
    “Where is Mrs. Valentine?” Martha Attwood peered through the open doorway of the inner office.
    “She took a nasty fall the night before last and she's still recovering.”
    “Oh, dear. Will she be able to work on my, uh, case?”
    “Don't you worry about a thing, Mrs. Attwood. I'm Mrs. Valentine's assistant and I'm in charge around here now.”
    Mrs. Attwood cleared her throat, looking vaguely alarmed. “You're sure?”
    “Absolutely positive. Relax, Mrs. Attwood. I was born for this kind of thing. It's in my blood. I just know it.”

    Irene Valentine looked even more worried than Mrs. Attwood had appeared. She lay back on the white pillows and listened to the entire tale, shaking her head slowly back and forth.
    “I don't know, Jessie. I don't like the feel of this.”
    Jessie stared at her in astonished delight. “The feel of it? You've got your psychic abilities back, then, Mrs. V?”
    “No, no, I mean I just don't like the plain old ordinary human feel of it. It doesn't take any psychic ability to sense a little trouble on the horizon, my dear. Just common sense. And my common sense tells me this cult business is way out of our league.”
    “But, Mrs. V, just think what a case like this could do for the image of Valentine Consultations.”
    “This isn't the sort of thing we normally handle, Jessie, dear. You've been with me long enough to know that. We deal with people who are under a lot of stress. Or people who are confused about things. We soothe their fears of the future and give them self-confidence. We're therapists of a sort, not private detectives.”
    “But this is an ideal chance to expand our business,” Jessie said, unwilling to give up. “Please, Mrs. V. I told the client we'd take the case. I can work on it while you're recovering. It's not like I'm going to try to fool the client. Mrs. Attwood herself said she really doesn't expect to hire someone with genuine psychic ability. She just wants someone who can prove this Bright character is a fraud. That should be easy enough to do.”
    “Don't count on it. Con men are extremely clever.” Mrs. Valentine narrowed her eyes. “You really want to take on this case, don't you?”
    “It's a great opportunity for me to prove myself to you, Mrs. V. Let me at least do a little research on the cult and this guy Bright. If it looks too big for us to handle, I'll tell Mrs. Attwood she'll have to go to someone else. What do you say?”
    “If I had any sense, I'd say no.”
    “Mrs. V, please . I have a feeling about this case. I know I can handle it.”
    Mrs. Valentine sighed. “As it happens, I've just taken a nasty blow on the head and I'm obviously not thinking clearly at all. All right. Do a little research, dear. Find out what you can about DEL and this man named Bright.” She fixed Jessie with a firm gaze. “But you are not to go any further than that on your own, understand? Keep me posted every step of the way, and please don't do anything foolish. We don't know what is involved here, and I do not want you taking any chances.”
    Jessie grinned, satisfied. “Don't worry, Mrs. V. I'll be careful.”
    “Why do I get this overwhelming sense of impending doom?”
    “You must be psychic.” But Jessie regretted the little joke instantly when she saw the tears in the corner of Mrs. Valentine's eyes. “Oh, God, I'm sorry, Mrs. V. I didn't mean to upset you. You are psychic and you will get your inner