Love Spell by Stan Crowe

from the flash. Unless she was an albino.” She gasped at the sudden revelation. “What color was her skin?”
    “What kind of a dumb question is that?” he asked with a scowl. “Are you not an equal opportunity person hunter?”
    Glare at the idiot. No, wait… professionals don’t glare. “Details matter.”
    He shrugged yet again. “Not sure. The place was dark. Her RV was lit mostly with Christmas lights. Who knows? Maybe she was albino.”
    That data also went into the computer. “What else?”
    Her first client pondered momentarily, then shook his head. “Like I said, it was dark, and I got out of her freak show pretty quick. We talked, she cursed me, and now I’m here.”
    The typing ceased. “‘Cursed’ you?”
    The client leaned forward to peer at her. “Are you calling me a liar?”
    Lindsay didn’t budge, but made a placating motion with her hand. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Mister Christopherson. Clint. Your story is simply… atypical.”
    He rubbed at his forehead. “You’re telling me. Anyway, weird lady tells me I can have a wish for a price. I… paid her and then made my wish. I won’t get into the details other than that she muttered something about how ‘any woman that’s of age and wasn’t from the loins of my great, great grandparents’ would…” He trailed off. “Never mind. Point is, it created issues. I need to find her quick and get her to take it back.”
    “Take back the wish?”
    “Duh.”
    Lindsay’s mouth snapped shut, and she turned back to her computer, worried it was becoming a crutch. Her electronic case tracking forms were excellent but not all that interesting.
    The client got up and walked to the window, presumably to take in the view. So why did she feel his eyes on her as she filled out the forms for this case?
    “Please step away from the window,” she said without turning around. “I wouldn’t want you to fall out.”
    He rapped the glass a few times. “It seems pretty solid to me. Besides, there’s no way to open it.”
    “It’s not idiot proof.” She stopped cold. He was getting to her. Breaking her down simply by being there.
    “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That was uncalled for and highly unprofessional.” To apologize, she was willing to reveal her stricken eyes. “Will you please pardon the indiscretion?” she asked, as sincerely as possible.
    He crouched to get on eye level with her, causing her breathing to fluctuate strangely again. “You’re fine,” he said. “I’ve been called a lot worse. I think we got off on the wrong foot, here. I’ve, uh… had kind of a rough week. Got me grumpy and all that. Normally, I’m a wonderful guy.”
    He stood awkwardly and walked to his chair. Sitting on the edge of his seat, he peered at her. “Look, I hate to cut this short, but I really need to be somewhere. Can I just get a price quote real quick? Something to chew on to see whether I need to shop around some more?”
    She nodded curtly. “Well… Clint…” Why was it so hard to spit out that name? “I’m certain that, given time, I can find this ‘Aunt Fey’ you’ve mentioned. I’ll give you my e-mail address and cell number,” she suddenly felt surprisingly forward, and quickly added, “which I hardly ever use. But you can send me any other information you think is relevant when it’s convenient for you.
    “To your question, though, I’ve run a quick calculation. This is an ‘attempt to locate’ situation targeting a subject of unknown whereabouts. We’ll estimate forty-hours of time at one-hundred-thirty an hour. Add to that two hundred miles of travel at eighty-cents per mile. Tack on tax and miscellaneous expenses, and…” She typed a few numbers into her computer. “The estimate is five thousand seven hundred and sixty-two dollars.” Working for this… man might be a sentence rather than a job, but it was the perfect opportunity to take her overdue payment out of his hide, and get some