The Wicked Witch of Elmwood Village

It was now morning, the trees offered their empty branches to the warmthless sun. The Lincoln Town Car stood firm against the ticket maids and boots. Bearing witness to its missing owner to the Police cars surrounding it. Several Black and White SUVs bearing the Buffalo Seal sat with Windows open, heaters on and officers sitting inside drinking coffee. The few unlucky ones braving the cold as they loitered the property and spoke to the locals.

"Ok, so let me get this straight, Ms Krammer."

"Please Officer," Pleaded the sobbing redhead in thick eyeliner and Sequined overlays, though not overlaid enough to hide her bosom. "Call me Ms LeFarge. I suppose I will have to get used to my old name now - that - that."

"I'm sorry ma'am I can't do that. I have to call you by your name unless you legally change it." 

The young man sported a well pressed police uniform, an unseasonable tan, and early receding hairline. All of which passed down from his family. His name was Tony Russo, and he was investigating the disappearance of one of Buffalo's few titans of industry.

"Let me make sure I have your story straight. Your words, please correct me here." Officer Russo clicked off his ballpoint pen and reviewed his notepad. "According to you, your husband came to visit before his flight, and you two got into an argument over money." "That's right, my husband disapproves of my work, has no appreciation for the forces that surround him." "Right then he left, and fell down the stairs. Your employee, Jesus confesses he saw Mr Krammer fall down the stairs. And you say that he got up and stormed out of the room to go to his conference."

"Yes, that's correct officer."

"Now here's the thing, ma'am. His car is still outside." "I am aware." "Why didn't he drive it to the airport?"

"Whose to say? I hardly know why he does anything. Perhaps his mistress picked him up." "And you just let his car sit there, collecting parking tickets."

"Yes"

“Why"

"Because I was mad at him. Now I'm hoping it will make him mad and he will co.co.c"" Isabelle grabbed an ornate sequined handkerchief and blew her nose.

Officer Tony Russo tried to hide his suspicion with a pained smile. He longed for summer where he could hide his eyes behind sunglasses. Helped him hide his ‘bad poker face.’

"Ma'am with respect, you don't actually expect me to believe this do you?"

"Madame Isabelle immediately stopped the tears and looked the officer in the eyes. "

"You can believe what you wish. I am telling you what I believe, and I believe my husband's business attracted dark spirits and vengeances. Perhaps those finally claimed him."

" She turned away from him in a show of indignance, letting her shawl slip to expose a bare shoulder of her long gown. The Officer turned away. "If you believe something else, well extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof."

"May we look around ma'am?"

"For now, you have until my shop opens, so don't touch anything! I will be watching." Officer Tony shrugged and walked away. As he reached the front door he got a buzz from his Walkie Talkie.

"Hey, Tony, your girlfriend's here."

Tony doesn't even look up, as he opens the door.

"Come on, you guys. You pick a new girl off the street this time? That was only funny once"

Then he finally looks over, there is a silver car parked next to the Disappearing man's Lincoln. The Make and Model, Tony couldn't discern. Not because he was bad with cars - far from it - but because it was being swarmed by curious onlookers and cops. Past them was a woman of Medium height and small frame. She had a form and dress made to evoke past memories. For most, a vision of a Buffalo long lost. For Tony, it was an unearthed High School Memory.

"Oh Goddammit." He quietly mutters a curse under his breath.

Without missing a beat, Marjorie replies:

"Officer Anthony Russo, don't call names you wouldn't want to answer." The other officers snicker to each other.

Tony looks in amazement behind him as a woman in an old-fashioned curly blonde bob walks into the Victorian house wearing what appears to be an old morning suit, gray pinstripes, lapels covered in strange symbols. Her cravat was untied, instead emblazoned with runes. It dangled across her neck like a priest's stole.

Tony shrugs and rolls his eyes as his buddies on the force and fellow Class of 2013 members watched.

"You do remember me," she says with a practiced short laugh that no one bought. "I was worried, you know. I Never heard from you again after that date on homecoming."

"Well, yeah, you dropped out of the school."

Officer Lansing, former cheerleader whistled.

"I didn't drop out, I was pulled. My mother said the education wasn't of sufficient quality for their learning expectations. My father said that the school has gone downhill since his grandfather helped found it, and my familiar was concerned about all of the seed oils in lunch."

"Right," Tony responds. "Okay, but what are you doing here now? Are you going to, like...I don't... I figured you went to, like, I don't know, Harvard or something."

"Oh, no, no. I just got back from Miskatonic University, the Miskatonic School of Business to be precise. I'm now a licensed public adjuster."

Reaching into her ruined lapel that Tony swore glowed as her hands touched it, she fished out what looked like a silver cigarette case emblazoned with her family's monogram. She opens the case and pulls out her business card.

Marjorie Theodosia Alston-Vanderbrunt III
Licensed Public Adjuster
Extraordinary Claims
Anomalous Event Investigations

Tony looked at her.

"You're an insurance adjuster."

"What's the problem with an insurance adjuster? You're a cop."

"Well, yeah, I'm a cop. My dad's a cop, my grandpa's a cop, I'm a cop. I don't know, I just figured your family was gonna make you, like, I don't know, a professional golfer, magician, or something."

"Times have changed. There's no money for court astrologers anymore. My grandfather used to read the stars for the Kings and Tycoons, but they don't need that anymore.

 All the money's in finance. Airports are banks. Oil companies consolidate debt, and Groceries launder government funds. This is the true esoteric order of our modern financial situation. Everything is financed now, so I'm going to become an insurance adjuster."

"Right. Okay, but just a ….

“Adjuster yes, anyways. I'm here on behalf of Mr. Charles Kramer, who had a large life insurance claim on him."

"Well, you said that it's not going to make you any" Marjorie glimpses the large auto mocha machine in the hall way. She places her hand on the counter. "Listen, if we're going to talk for a bit, can I at least have a coffee? Is it being used as evidence?"

"No?"

"Wonderful."

Marjorie walks towards the machine, reaches for a plastic cup and puts it in the machine, and sets it to mocha.

"You used to know how to treat a Lady, Tony. -- I can still call you Tony, right? Do I have to call you Officer Russo?"

"No, Tony's fine."

“It gets tiresome drinking Coffee Crystals out of my Lennox Chinaware. A little sugar every once in a while. I think that’s what you said to me back in high school. On our big date.”

"You still think a lot about that date, huh?"

"How could a girl not? You were one of the most popular kids in the whole school: Football captain, good family, respected family, father, and I was... well, I still have my family's charms and embers flowing somewhere."

Officer Tony looked leaned on one of the walls, hands fidgeting with the notebook and pencil as he processed the compliment.

"Well shucks, but, You didn't seem to appreciate it that much at the time. I spent one half of the car ride there talking, making fun of my 1980 Cadillac DeVille. And that's the other part. You spent the rest of the time talking, all acting spooky, creeping out my friends."

Marjorie avoids eye contact, looking down at the paper cup. The machine had finished dispensing the coffee, and she took the cup, silently sheathing it in a cardboard sleeve. Then grabbing a small napkin from Isabelle’s well stocked coffee bar places it under the cup like a patton, and savors the sip.

"I suppose we don't really appreciate the moments in our youth. It takes the miseries of adulthood for us to recognize them, I suppose. In any case, this is quite a wonderful machine this woman has here."

Something is on the tip of Marjorie’s tongue, which she quickly drowns in another sip of coffee.

Tony jokes, trying to change the subject.

"You said there's no money in astrology and fortune telling, but clearly this woman's doing well. Maybe you can work for her."

Marjorie chuckles a bit to herself as she puts the ceramic cup ornate with Art Deco Cherry Blossoms on top of its matching saucer.

"Come now, detective, you can't be serious. There's no money made here. None of these stores make any money. Every single one of these shops in Elmwood Village is being run at a loss by wealthy husbands and financiers indulging their wives with a sense of importance."

"Aha. So that's…I knew it. She's doing this whole bullshit psychic gypsy schtick, but... that's why you're here, right Marge? You think she killed her husband for the insurance money?"

Marjorie took another sip.

"No captain, I'm here because she is actually Psychic."