Page 16 of The Sisters of Crimson House

“How’s the pay?” Charley asked.

“The school research stipend doesn’t put me up in the Peabody, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “But one lucky psychic can win one hundred thousand dollars if they can pass Occam’s Razor’s psychic challenge.”

Charley blinked at him. “Oh shit, you’re that guy.”

That guy smiled at her. “That guy?” He was that guy.

“The one who goes around saying you’ll pay for proof of psychic ability.” Charley had been in the game long enough to hear about rackets like his. Oftentimes these demonstrations were held in public halls with tickets sold and the money going to the scientists hustling for truth, so who was the real con artist here?

“Me personally? No. But Occam’s Razor is. If it’s earned through completely legitimate means that demonstrates actual quantifiable abilities,” he added.

“Oh, like the ‘what number am I holding up’ test?” she said, her mood improving enormously. It came to her then like a vision. She was legitimately going to be separating him from that cash, no question.

“That was some regrettable improv,” he confessed. “But are you familiar with the concept of Occam’s razor?” he continued.

Charley noticed that Jenny had arrived early at the end of the bar, tapping an impatient nail against her paperback. “Look, this is fascinating, Osiris, but I have an actual client waiting.”

Sy removed the wallet from his jacket and took out a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

Charley stared at it, stunned, before remembering herself. That wallet had been so empty, it had felt cruel to take it. “How?” she had to ask.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” He grinned, sliding the bill toward her.

Her silence was his cue to continue.

“Occam’s razor. It’s a philosophical concept. Basically, the explanation for a phenomenon is most likely the simplest one.” He took out another business card and extended it in his right hand. He waved his left over it, the card disappearing in plain sight.

“So, what just happened to the card?”

“It disappeared,” said Charley.

“Right. Now, did it vanish into thin air? Possibly. But given what we know of the laws of physics, more likely I just used a bit of old-fashioned flimflammery.”

“Flimflammery!” Charley exclaimed, hating that she was enjoying this a little. “Excellent phrase.”

“Agreed.” Sy flipped over his left hand, revealing the palmed card inside.

“Nice palm,” she said, genuinely impressed. “Ricky Jay?”

“No, but he was a master at close-up magic. Max Malini.”

“Ah, old-school,” murmured Charley. “Nice.” She would have been elated to stumble into a conversation about the history of brilliant magicians if it weren’t with a clown wearing a sport coat.

Sy moved the card to his right hand and then back to his left before clapping his hands together. He opened them wide, revealing the card had once again vanished. He cleared his throat, theatrically nodding, indicating that she should look down at the bar. She did, noticing the business card was now serving as the coaster under her bellini. Holy shit, that was smooth.

Using her fingernails, she extracted the card from under her glass, making sure to drag it through the water rings on the bar as she slid it toward him. “You can have that back,” she said with a big smile. “They look expensive.” She felt a tiny victory in his sour expression.

“Sometimes the best way to debunk a ‘psychic’ is to use their own techniques against them.” He studied her for a moment. “The buttons on the guy’s backpack,” he said finally. “They were reflective. That’s how you saw the number behind my back.”

Charley grinned at him. “Magicians aren’t supposed to reveal their secrets, but yes. You were being too much of a jerk in my house not to make an example of you. An uninvited jerk,” she added.

“Fair, which is why I’m glad we’re meeting on neutral territory,” he said, leaning closer. “Because I’m really curious about something.”

She took a sip of her drink, eyeing him warily.

“How does one get a drink around here, anyway?” he asked, looking around the bar.

Charley smiled, noting that Travis was staying just out of reach to take any drink orders. “That’s what you’re curious about?” she asked. She didn’t know this man, but already, a tell: his blue eyes widening as something piqued his curiosity.