The Mysterious Case of the Missing Psychic

So I'm working at the Monkey's Paw on Wednesday night as usual, just putting away a few books and stuff, and it's almost closing time, and in walks this old guy. Not to judge or anything, but he really doesn't look like the sort of guy who just wanders into an occult shop. He's wearing a suit that looks about as old as him, and probably has a higher polyester count than a Malaysian sweat shop. He's kinda balding, his tie has a bit of ketchup on it, and he walks in with a look of resigned determination: ( you know, the same sort of look you might have when you go to the dental hygienist. )