"Okay."
"Okay?" Miss Atwell startled.
"Okay," Marcia nodded, setting her coffee aside. "I told you I have a sense for these things. I CAN think of a few supernatural things that could lead to this. Recessive bloodlines, some kind of spell, heck from what you said maybe a wish?"
Rusty was already on his way over with a clipboard and pen, bless the man. The fist-pump and mouthed "cha-ching!" was less professional, but at least he did it BEHIND the client before dropping off the paperwork.
"Before we get into that, let's talk about my fee, and how I generally do my work." Marcia slid the clipboard over to her new client.
"I charge one thousand a week, paid in advance, for my services. If I require special supplies, assistance, or will have some other expense, that will also be your responsibility though we will talk about it first. I meet my clients once a week, minimum, to discuss my results and update payments. I refund half your first week if you decide it's not going to work, but after that no refunds. I don't do surprise bills."
Christine nodded as she skimmed the clipboard. She didn't seem too worried about the price, which was a good sign.
"I won't commit any crimes while investigating a case. I also do my best to operate morally and ethically, so technically-legal things might still be off the table. I am open to discussing things with clients case by case. I work with the law when needed to get things like search warrants, and that DOES mean I have to tell them what I'm looking for and why. I also keep a record of all of my cases. Clients are given a copy upon request, and I do not divulge records without a warrant or court order."
Christine kept nodding, though she'd tensed back up again.
Marcia sighed and tapped the table.
"Sorry for the long ramble, but I like to be up front. Short version is that I try to be a decent person and I don't do crime. If it doesn't work out, you can end the deal any time but I'm keeping at LEAST half the money you've paid me. If that sounds fair, feel free to sign the contract and pass Rusty something for payment."
Things got settled fast after that. Now on the clock, Marcia got right to it. She was pleased to note that Miss Atwell also seemed more confident and relaxed; maybe signing a contract was more familiar to her than the whole 'psychic magic' thing.
"First question, have you taken Chris to a doctor?"
"Not yet," Miss Atwell answered promptly. "His pediatrician was booked solid, but had an opening end of next week. I am worried, but Chris isn't in pain and I'd rather he see a doctor who knows his history."
"Fair," Marcia nodded. "Second question, can I speak with Chris about this?"
"Well..." her client hesitated. "You CAN, but I don't know if that will help. He didn't tell me anything when I tried speaking to him about it on our shopping trip. He just looked uncomfortable and started complaining when I didn't drop it right away."
"I think I'll try if that's alright. Depending on how it goes, we may talk about interviewing other people."
The rest of the interview went smoothly. Christine seemed eager to get her son some help, so she cooperated and provided as much information as she could.
Chris was the only child in his family. The Atwells were a wealthy business family who lived near downtown New York, but far enough away that they had an - expensive - house with an actual grass yard and garage space. Despite both parents being average height, Chris had always been a small boy, staying below the fifth percentile his entire life. He was otherwise healthy, and as he had shorter relatives in his extended family his pediatrician wasn't worried. He didn't have any history of delinquency or behavioral problems, he had three close friends with similar records, and he was doing well in school.
The only odd thing, apparently, was that at the beginning of last week, during Easter break, Chris was four feet and ten inches tall, and at the end he was five foot two.
"You said 'overnight' earlier," Marcia cut in. "Can you clarify that? Did you mean that it was very fast, or that it literally happened in one night?"
"I'm not completely sure," Christine admitted, "but I think it happened in one night. Thursday morning last week, Chris was walking around in pants that showed his ankles, a shirt that didn't reach his waist, and he couldn't get his shoes to fit. He'd been running around like normal on Wednesday and I didn't see ANY of that."
"Hmm... okay." Marcia nodded. "What happened next?"
Next, Christine understandably freaked out. She measured his height on the door (are there older marks there and can I see them?), took him clothes shopping, and called the doctor's office while her son was trying things on. She'd had exactly one conversation with her husband about things and hadn't brought it back up yet. Chris took the public transit to school that morning as normal, and he'd be back home in about three hours.
Marcia tapped at the table and thought things over. It sounded like whatever happened, it probably happened at home, and in the kid's room, on Wednesday night. Unless he snuck out, but given the parents were both home she'd assume not for now; that would have risked him being caught and there's no sense making the scenario more complicated when she doesn't have all the facts yet.
"Okay. Based on what you told me, I think the best thing to do next is to search your home. Is that okay?"