“Except for a small retainer,” Gus said quickly.

“Which we’ll waive in your case.”

Gus felt his face getting hot again. Only this time it wasn’t embarrassment.

“The other detectives-”

“Don’t have a direct link to the spirit world the way I do. Although in your case, it should be a link to Heaven, so I can communicate with the other angels.”

“Thank you,” she said, squeezing Shawn’s hand.

Gus could barely wait until the door closed behind her before he exploded.

“You guarantee it?”

“Don’t we guarantee every case?”

“No!”

Shawn sat down behind his desk and picked up the newspaper. “We should start. It’s a great marketing idea.”

“Unless we fail and we have to give the client’s money back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shawn said. “We can’t give her her money back because we didn’t take any in the first place.”

Shawn flipped through the pages of the paper, then tossed it to Gus. A gorgeous model in a skimpy bra and skimpier panties smiled serenely up at him. “What does this tell you?” Shawn asked.

“That she’s Fit For The Cure,” Gus said, reading the copy on the bra ad.

“True, although they never say the cure for what. I think it’s the high price of Maxim magazine. But that’s not what I meant.” Shawn took the paper and flipped it over, then gave it back to Gus.

There was a small picture of their new client. Over it, a headline read “Model Wife or Murderess: Veronica Mason Trial Starts Monday.” Gus quickly skimmed the story, which included all the details that Shawn had “psychically” intuited and many he hadn’t mentioned. Oliver Mason was a pillar of the Santa Barbara community since his days as quarterback of the high school football team. He’d married the head cheerleader shortly after graduation, leaving many broken hearts behind, and begun a career in aviation that made him a billionaire.