the vulnerable and recently bereaved. She was now able to set and control the scene and the mood. Weeping children and spouses, who were all seeking answers and forgiveness of one kind or another, were a much easier and more profitable mark.
Her lounge was an average size; the thick heavy blood red curtains were drawn tightly against the outside night. The room’s furniture was sparse; a large round oak table sat proudly in the centre of the room with six matching chairs spread around it. The table was covered with a long crimson cloth and the edges almost reached the floor, providing adequate concealment. The lighting was always important, as what the eye could not see the mind could imagine. There were six small hidden speakers, all secreted around the room. She had installed an expensive wireless Goodman’s surround sound system. The amp was hidden beneath the table and the low rumble beneath the punters feet was always useful.
She heard the front door bell ring and used the modified electronic garage door opener to swing the front door open and allow tonight’s guests to enter. It was simple trick, but an effective one. The séance attendees were always in a ready state of nervousness, and she had found that they were always susceptible, always willing to be convinced. She had learned over time to request that her clients came alone. At the beginning she had found that there would always be a suspicious friend or relative looking to accompany the defenseless. It was always a pain to have to compete with those who wanted to look behind the wizard’s curtain, as opposed to those who simply wanted to believe.
“Zis way dear,” she called out softly in her fake accent.
She heard the old woman enter the house and Janet was pleased to hear only one set of footprints; she had come alone as requested. She always explained to those who felt in need of her services that the more people attended the séance, the more scrambled the signals could become.
The client tonight was Marigold Milton; she was seventy nine and recently widowed; her husband Reginald passing away after a short illness.
Janet had, over time developed several relationships with useful contacts around the town. She had an on and off boyfriend of sorts who was a nurse at the local hospital, and Donny was always able to give the dirt on the recently deceased. She had taught him to look for those with a limited amount of visitors; just a spouse was perfect. He also had to keep an eye out for expensive looking watches or jeweler and for luxury cars in the car park. Once Donny had caught her attention with a prospect, she had a friend at the town hall, Mary, who was great for finding out details of recently registered death certificates. Mary was able to give her the names and addresses of the bereaved, as well as a usually reliable picture of the prospect; did they seem a little lost, a little distant, vulnerable? Mary was a people person but she was also very fat and very lonely, and Janet had moved in swiftly with the skill and grace of a natural predator. She had fast become Mary’s one and only friend in the world and she worked hard to make sure that Mary stayed isolated. Janet’s ideal candidate would be an elderly woman, one who had just lost a wealthy husband; a woman that had never worked and always been taken care of. These women were hopeless on their own; they would have no idea as to how the real world actually worked and they would be ripe for the picking. But her window was small. Soon the lawyers would swoop and friends would circle and the window would close.
Marigold was a grand prize; her husband had been an industrialist, a knighted man with seemingly deep and endless pockets. They’d had no children and Marigold was the sole beneficiary sitting on a fortune of around two hundred million pounds, with more interestingly several million in available liquid funds. Janet had positively salivated at the thought of all that money; the low
Her lounge was an average size; the thick heavy blood red curtains were drawn tightly against the outside night. The room’s furniture was sparse; a large round oak table sat proudly in the centre of the room with six matching chairs spread around it. The table was covered with a long crimson cloth and the edges almost reached the floor, providing adequate concealment. The lighting was always important, as what the eye could not see the mind could imagine. There were six small hidden speakers, all secreted around the room. She had installed an expensive wireless Goodman’s surround sound system. The amp was hidden beneath the table and the low rumble beneath the punters feet was always useful.
She heard the front door bell ring and used the modified electronic garage door opener to swing the front door open and allow tonight’s guests to enter. It was simple trick, but an effective one. The séance attendees were always in a ready state of nervousness, and she had found that they were always susceptible, always willing to be convinced. She had learned over time to request that her clients came alone. At the beginning she had found that there would always be a suspicious friend or relative looking to accompany the defenseless. It was always a pain to have to compete with those who wanted to look behind the wizard’s curtain, as opposed to those who simply wanted to believe.
“Zis way dear,” she called out softly in her fake accent.
She heard the old woman enter the house and Janet was pleased to hear only one set of footprints; she had come alone as requested. She always explained to those who felt in need of her services that the more people attended the séance, the more scrambled the signals could become.
The client tonight was Marigold Milton; she was seventy nine and recently widowed; her husband Reginald passing away after a short illness.
Janet had, over time developed several relationships with useful contacts around the town. She had an on and off boyfriend of sorts who was a nurse at the local hospital, and Donny was always able to give the dirt on the recently deceased. She had taught him to look for those with a limited amount of visitors; just a spouse was perfect. He also had to keep an eye out for expensive looking watches or jeweler and for luxury cars in the car park. Once Donny had caught her attention with a prospect, she had a friend at the town hall, Mary, who was great for finding out details of recently registered death certificates. Mary was able to give her the names and addresses of the bereaved, as well as a usually reliable picture of the prospect; did they seem a little lost, a little distant, vulnerable? Mary was a people person but she was also very fat and very lonely, and Janet had moved in swiftly with the skill and grace of a natural predator. She had fast become Mary’s one and only friend in the world and she worked hard to make sure that Mary stayed isolated. Janet’s ideal candidate would be an elderly woman, one who had just lost a wealthy husband; a woman that had never worked and always been taken care of. These women were hopeless on their own; they would have no idea as to how the real world actually worked and they would be ripe for the picking. But her window was small. Soon the lawyers would swoop and friends would circle and the window would close.
Marigold was a grand prize; her husband had been an industrialist, a knighted man with seemingly deep and endless pockets. They’d had no children and Marigold was the sole beneficiary sitting on a fortune of around two hundred million pounds, with more interestingly several million in available liquid funds. Janet had positively salivated at the thought of all that money; the low
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