Sextrasensory Perception


Chapter One

Mystic Mambo

Jasmine Tespire, psychic superstar, gazed intently into her crystal ball.

“I see a hotel room,” Jasmine said. “A couple are having drinks.”

“Who are they,” Petula Spandau asked frantically.

“I get the feeling they are people you know well.”

Jasmine paused. “They are undressing. They are moving towards the bed, kissing and fondling each other. They are now in the throes of passionate lovemaking.”

Jasmine stopped, suddenly exhausted.

“Is it my husband?” Petula screeched. “Is he having an affair? With my best friend?”

“I believe that is correct,” Jasmine said softly.

“But how can you be sure?”

“Because, I’m a clair-voyeur-ant.”

Chapter Two

The Oracular Op

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You want me to find out if your husband and best friend are having an affair, because a psychic told you so?”

“That’s right, Shade,” Petula Spandau said. “Psychic evidence is not admissible in a court of law. I need you to come up with concrete proof.”

“Who’s the, psychic?”

“Jasmine Tespire. She recommended you.”

“Yeah, Jasmine and I go way back.”

“She said that while you were a throwback to the old school gumshoe, you have almost a visionary, far-seeing, spiritual sense in these matters.”

“True,” I said. “I am considered clair-noir-ant.”

Chapter Three

Fey Accompli

Jasmine Tespire stood on the yacht deck, her hands and feet wrapped in heavy chains.

“So,” Boris Spandau, crooked real estate tycoon said. “You’re the so-called psychic who gave my wife the impression I was cheating on her?”

“No, impression,” Jasmine said. “You were. I saw it clearly. The visions never lie.”

“Yeah, well the only visions you’re going to be having are of the afterlife. You’re done messing in my affairs. Because of you my wife has some cheap, sleazy dirtbag, private dick following me around, trying to get evidence for an expensive divorce.”

“Hey,” I said. “I’m right here. I can hear you!”

Spandau whirled around to face me.

“You!” he snarled. “Well it looks like I’ll get to take care of both of you right now!”

Spandau reached inside his waistband and began pulling out a .38. I bull rushed him quickly, my shoulder crashing into him before he could clear the weapon. He slipped, he stumbled, he fell backward, crashing into Jasmine, sending both of them overboard.

“I can’t swim!” Spandau screamed as he flailed in the water. He thrashed about and then went under.

I grabbed a life ring and threw it at Jasmine, who was able to snatch it despite her chained hands. I hauled her back on board, straining at the extra weight she was wearing.

“Whew,” Jasmine said. “Thanks, Shade. You got my telepathic memo just in time.”

“Really? Huh, I thought it was just a hunch. Anyway, you’re safe.”

“Yes, but I’m seeing a watery grave for Spandau.”

I nodded. “But tell me, how were you able to stay afloat with all those chains?”

“Simple. Clair-buoyancy.

~ fin ~


Lee Hammerschmidt is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own, It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere, For Richer or Noirer, Flash Wounds, and Pulp Stains. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!