Page 29 of It takes a Psychic

She gave them a brisk summary of her adventure with the mysterious Oliver Rancourt and the discovery of the yellow crystal inside the artifact known as Pandora’s box.

There was a moment of stunned silence. The Griffin women looked at each other.

Leona cleared her throat. “I assume you see the problem.”

“Oh, yeah.” Molly touched her own yellow crystal pendant. “What are the odds that a rare stone like the one you and I wear just happened to turn up in one of the artifacts that you were supposed to authenticate at the reception?”

“That question occurred to me late last night after I had time to think,” Leona said.

“Griffin Investigations doesn’t believe in coincidences,” Eugenie stated.

Charlotte took a deep breath. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we need a plan. We can’t let Rancourt disappear with the crystal.”

“We need background on Oliver Rancourt and this Foundation he claims to be associated with,” Eugenie said. She took out her phone. “I’ll get started on it right away.”

Leona checked the time. “We’ve got about an hour before I’m scheduled to meet with him.”

“Let’s finish up here and go back to the office,” Charlotte said, reaching for the zipper of her gown. “We need privacy.”

She was interrupted by a muffled shriek of alarm from the other side of the dressing room door.

“Somebody stop them,” a sales consultant shouted. “No, whatever you do, don’t open that door.”

It was too late. The door had been opened. Newton and Roxy raced into the room, chortling gleefully. They both stopped short at the sight of the tables piled high with sparkling accessories. Their bright blue eyes got brighter.

“Newton.”Molly leaped to her feet, seized Newton, and tucked him under her arm. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Joshua.”

“Roxy.” Overjoyed, Leona leaned down and scooped up Roxy. “You came back. I was afraid you were gone for good.”

“Oh, dear,” the sales associate said, wringing her hands. “I’m afraid we can’t allow animals in the salon.”

Charlotte gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. These are licensed emotional support dust bunnies.”

Chapter Twelve

Griffin Investigations was located onthe second floor of a Colonial-era building in the Dark Zone, not far from the Dead City Wall. Leona and the others, including the dust bunnies, crowded into Charlotte’s office.

The escape from the wedding salon had not been without incident. Somehow Roxy had acquired a souvenir. Charlotte had told the sales consultant to put the sparkly blue fascinator decorated with fluttering blue ribbons and a blue crystal butterfly on the bill. It had been evident that Roxy was not about to relinquish it.

Eugenie brought in a pot of strong coffee and poured it for the humans. She opened a couple of cans of Hot Quartz Cola for Roxy and Newton and then angled herself on the corner of Charlotte’s desk. She took out her phone.

“Here’s what I’ve got so far,” she said. “Overall, the Rancourt familyappears to be respectable and financially secure, but they have always kept a low profile.”

Family was everything on Harmony, thanks to the First Generation colonists. After the closing of the Curtain, they had faced the knowledge that they had been cut off from the home world, possibly forever. With their high-tech machines crumbling around them, they had set out to establish the foundation of a society that would be able to hold itself together through the hard times they knew were coming. The experts—philosophers, scientists, psychiatrists, and religious leaders—had made the decision to shore up the family unit as the basic building block of the culture. They had reinforced the structure with every means at their disposal—the Constitution and the law as well as powerful social norms. The Covenant Marriage was the cornerstone. It was almost as indestructible as green quartz. Almost.

For those who were not ready to take the big step with a CM, there existed the far more casual Marriage of Convenience. Considered tacky and tawdry by many, the MC was little more than fancy packaging for an affair. Dissolving an MC required nothing more than filing the paperwork at the nearest courthouse. But a Covenant Marriage was supposed to be for life.

The results of the work of the First Generation were indisputable. The colonies had been pushed to the brink but they had stuck together and survived the tough challenges they had faced.

Now, after two hundred years, the descendants of the First Generation were thriving, but a lot of the old laws were still on the books and some of the rigid social and cultural attitudes continued to hold sway. A Covenant Marriage divorce was not only difficult to obtain—there were few legal grounds—it was hideously expensive.

But the real threat was the humiliation, scandal, and, not infrequently, financial disaster that inevitably ensued. Careers, friendships, and social connections were destroyed. So were the prospects for a second Covenant Marriage.

As insurance against the disaster of an unhappy CM, most people relied on matchmaking agencies—families insisted on it. But no system was perfect. In the end, two people who decided they simply could not live together generally opted to stay married but lead separate lives. The other option for getting out of a marriage while avoiding the legal, financial, and social perils was, of course, the convenient death of one of the two people involved. When a spouse died under suspicious circumstances, it was axiomatic that the first suspect was the surviving spouse.

“What else have you got on Rancourt?” Molly asked.

“Not that it’s germane to the immediate problem,” Eugenie said, “but he is not currently registered with a matchmaking agency.”

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