“There wasn’t a fire,” the woman said.

“That’s Rebecca,” Gus said.

“It is?” Shawn said. “Yes, it is. That’s your husband’s name.”

“Her husband was named Rebecca?” Gus said.

“I’m sensing that your husband’s name was Laurence Olivier. No-Oliver. And you are Veronica.”

“That’s right,” she said.

As infuriating as Shawn could be, Gus loved watching him do this-take tiny details that no one else ever noticed and use them to understand vast truths. He had no idea how Shawn had figured all this out and was looking forward to the explanation that would come once their new client was gone.

“You and Oliver had days of bliss. And then he took ill. The end was tragically fast, leaving you all alone with only his billions to keep you company. But what came next was even worse. You were accused of the crime. And while you assumed your name would be quickly cleared, the police found evidence pointing right at you.”

“Yes!”

“And worst of all, no one would believe that you’d never hurt Rebecca-”

“Laurence,” Gus said.

“Oliver,” she said.

“Oliver. When in truth you wouldn’t even mind going to jail, if only it didn’t mean people would believe you capable of hurting the only man you ever loved.”

“It’s like you read my mind,” Veronica said.

“Yes, much like that,” Gus said.

“I don’t read minds. I read auras,” Shawn said. “And your aura is the most innocent I’ve ever seen.”

“Can you help me?” she said.

“I guarantee it,” Shawn said.

“Because I’ve been to every other detective in town, and no one has been able to find anything that wasn’t incriminating,” she said. “And my trial starts on Monday.”

“Like I said, I guarantee it,” Shawn said. “You don’t have to pay us anything until we clear your name.”