"Hi," Heda said, starting into her script.

"Hey, I hate to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something."

“Madame Katrina can help you with whatever ails you. Spells, charms, fortunes . . . for fifty dollars, I can do a tarot reading"

"Ma'am, I actually just need you to look at this picture," Heda interrupted, pulling a copy of the police picture of Daryl Mosely out of her pocket, “and tell me if you've seen him in here before."

Madame Katrina instantly looked suspicious.

"You two cops?" she asked, her contrived accent falling by the wayside.

Both the bird-shifters raised their eyebrows.

"Do we look like cops?"

"I'm a legitimate business woman," the woman said.

"If you're not here to -

"Madame Katrina, we're not looking to cause you any trouble. We just want to know if you've ever seen this guy in your store or not."

“People come here all the time," the woman replied.

Heda doubted that this woman got more than one customer a day, including Black Friday. She suppressed a sigh and dug into her wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.

"Just to look. We think this guy may do something bad, and he thinks ‘magic’ is the way to go,"

Heda explained, using air quotation marks for “magic.” "Please, it would be great if you could help."

The woman looked at Heda, then the twenty, then back to Heda, she reached out and grabbed the cash as if it were some kind of trick.

Finally, she moved her eyes towards the picture.

"Okay, but I can't --" Madame Katrina's eyes met those in the image, and she shuddered.

"You know him, don't you?" Peter asked quickly.

Madame Katrina suddenly seemed much older, more towards the “sixty” end of the scale that Heda had created earlier.

"I wish I didn't.

You say this guy might do something bad? I believe that. I truly do.”

"When did you see him?"

"A couple of times. First time was a year or so ago, and then then he just gave me the creeps. Stared at me as if I were a mutant or something. Looked at everything, asked about the voodoo stuff," she added, pointing towards a set of rickety old shelves.