The Blind Diviner

As Cosima sat in her chilly store on a early spring morning, she chewed on her thinning nails once again. Of all of her habits, this was her nastiest. Not because of the done damage or the grossness that some might see from it. No, it showed her inherited impatience. The vicious cycles of catching herself doing it and stopping, then only to start up again when her mind wanders while looking at the front of the store door.

In her defense, she had every right to be impatient. Someone had broken into her store yet again and did not steal anything but she knew someone was in her shop, things were off. Things were just moved and pushed enough for her to notice. The dried up jars of minerals were all moved over just an inch or so. She could tell because the dust circles that had settled revealed themselves from the misplacing. Her chairs were facing different directions, books flipped from their spine out positions to the white pages staring her tauntingly in the eye.

She had reported it the first time, actually, she had called the police. Once they didn’t find anything taken or no forced entry, they buried it under the other small dead end cases they get. When it happened the second time, she called the detective that had looked around her shop the first time to come take a look. She wanted it at least down on paper that this is happening, that she isn’t crazy. Detective Hunter Reed. Although Cosima had plenty of other names that she could call him. Like dick or twat. Maybe more of something like that gross stuff that gathers at the edges of peoples mouths or the stuff that sits at the bottom of one’s belly buttons for months before they notice it. Or maybe that string of spit that people get when they talk sometimes. Basically all unpleasant things in the world and then him.

So when the time finally came that Cosima could hear the quiet buzz of his mind walking up to her shop door, she stopped chewing her nails, mentally scolding herself that she had done it yet again, and unlocked the door for him to come in.

“Ms. Hearst, always a pleasure.” As unpleasant as Detective Reed may be, you wouldn’t ever know by his outwardly appearance. A white glazed smile and black curled hair that most women have to spend hundreds of dollars to attain.

“Detective Reed, I called over an hour ago.” Cosima passively slid past him, letting him walk further into her shop.

“Yes, I know. I was attending to another call. Now tell me, you get many customers?” Cosima raised an eyebrow at the question but shrugged, letting her hand slap against her thigh in carelessness.

“A steady amount. I have a lot of usual's, nobody suspicious. I’ve already told this to you multiple times, it’s not worth repeating.”

‘It’s my job to ask this every time you call me here you twit.’ Cosima bit her tongue as the thought practically jumped and hung itself all over her. Detective Reed though had his back to her, wandering around and looking at the items that she had said were moved.

“Have anyone who has a vendetta against you? Enemies of any kind?” The tapping of his pen against his small legal pad of sloppy written notes made her eyes narrow slightly.

“Not that I could imagine. I tend to be a nice enough person, especially to customers. I wouldn’t treat anyone with a lack of respect unless they deserved it.” Reed rolled his eyes at her comment, wondering if a pool of lagoon water was as transparent as her.

“But you know, I could think of a few people who could deserve it.” Cosima’s voice was pitched high and tight, like a balloon trying to hold its air in without it being tied.

“Oh, so you do have qualms with people.” Reed turned to look at her, seeing her fuming as she went behind the cash counter.

“Again, no one that would deliberately come in and mess with me and my shop like this.” Cosima drummed her nails against the counter in discontent.

“Well in all honesty, I have to ask this because I do tend to see this from time to time from people who don’t get out much. Is this possible a cry of attention from you or someone you know well? Something to get noticed or maybe stir the pot? Because I’m looking around and there’s no forced entry anywhere again. And you’ve also said many times no one else has a copy of a master key. Lastly, the supposed person that is doing this to you isn’t changing their act. They always do the same thing according to my notes.”

“Since we’re being honest detective, I wouldn’t think of you to judge someone’s social skills when yours are abysmal.” Cosima bit back, wondering how many complaints he has against him. “And I expect you to think beyond the boundaries of cries of attention because yes, they do keep doing the same thing but the big picture is that they keep doing it. So unless you have anymore theories to shoot, I invite you to leave. My time is being wasted here as yours since you’re so unwilling to give any credit to your victim and move beyond your reason of doubt.”

‘What I would do to have probable cause to arrest this chick.’ Reed closed his pad, clicking his pen a few times before dragging his feet over to the door to leave. “I have no problem with that. Have a nice day, Ms. Hearst.”