Page 8 - The Case of the Wandering Husband FLIPBOOK

The amount of time it took Fannie to teach herself not to speak when astral had
proven well worth the effort. Especially since she’d embarrassed herself more than
once in real life over something she’d said while astral.
Being astral was like the ultimate lie detector test. Everyone had an aura. When she
was astral, she could see everyone’s auras. Could read their auras like a book. All she
had to do was watch and everything was exposed.

Fannie floated away. Another lesson she’d learned about being astral. Her teacher
informed her when she was astral, all things were possible. All things. Which meant
she had to take control of her situation, or it would control her.
For instance, she was floating three feet off the floor. Fannie looked down. Knew she
was controlling her floatation. The first time Fannie went astral, she fell through the
floor of her bedroom then through the living room and the basement and into the dirt
under their house until her fear shoved her mind back into her body.
It had taken a lot of help learning how to control herself while astral. A lot. Fannie
would be forever grateful to her teachers.

“How long is this going to take?” her so-called client asked the other person in the
room.
Fannie couldn’t help it. She smiled. The other person in the room was one of her best
friends. At least, she thought of him as such. Fannie knew he didn’t think of her as a
friend per se.
It didn’t hurt her feelings. She understood why he kept his distance. It would hurt his
family, his career, and his wife most of all if they knew his feelings ventured into areas
that were unacceptable for a man of his position.

Police Lieutenant Manfred Bronski was an anomaly wrapped in an enigma hidden
inside a code. The first issue was his name. It didn’t match his appearance. When you
looked up his name, your mind created an image of some large, lumbering Pollock
who was as white as they came.
His grandfather was the stereotypical Polish immigrant who’d come to L.A. to find
his fortune in the movies. A good looking man who fell for a Latina waitress and soon
produced babies. Babies who needed to be fed.
Manfred’s grandfather gave up his dream of becoming a movie star and joined the
police force. As did his sons and daughters and their sons and daughters. Which left
Manfred Bronski, who was short, with beautiful shiny black hair and deep brown
skin; the only man Fannie ever knew whose name was as far removed from the man as
possible.
“It will take as long as it takes,” Bronski answered the woman.

Fannie turned her attention towards the woman. Her client. Or rather the woman
who was about to become her client.