Mind To Mind: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective - Plot & Excerpts
Just do Alison.” "Very well," Oom murmured, eyes cast down in a quick inspection of the bill. She could probably spot a phony just by the feel of it in her hand. I was losing objectivity myself. I was forgetting that this woman was a double for Jane Doe, that the L.A. cops were probably even then filing an APB on me; I was reacting to the old Gypsy fortune-teller routine and dealing with the situation on that level instead of trying to apprehend the real mystery. But, after all, I admit it, my mind was reeling. I sat there and watched Oom escort Alison beyond a beaded curtain and into an inner sanctum somewhere, inwardly fuming over the bald fakery of this "earth mother," older-than-mankind bullshit. Oom was no Indian of any breed. Her genes hailed from Europe, not from any sacred mountain in a land first settled by Paleolithic hunters coming across the ancient land bridge of the Bering Strait from Siberia. And it always pissed me to find the fakers and charlatans who always, it seems, infiltrate the serious metaphysical centers, because these are the ones who seem to attract the greatest visibility and who therefore become the standard by which all are publicly judged.
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