The Mystery of the Crazy Psychic Author
September 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
A shattered mug gleams on the floor – white porcelain, a very fine china. The floor shines, illuminating the flattering glow of the Italian imported tiles. A fine place, indeed. But of course, this isn’t a story about a broken cup. This is a story about love, murder and a broken heart. Around the broken cup lies a sticky residue. It appears to be chai, or possibly a tea latte. Beyond the small mess lies a body – frozen by the hands of death. Well, from this point of view it is only a partial body. A hand strewn across the tiles, an arm extending to the shoulder blade in front of the corner of the counter. The curve of a breast is just visible before the body disappears behind the counter. Then, a pool of blood puddled a little further back. My name is Jelena Shore, and I will be the detective on this case.
I pour over my notes back at the office. So far, there are no suspects – or everyone at the party is a suspect. Take it how you wish. My brow furrowed, I struggle to come up with a solution. The deceased is Linda Allen, the hostess. Not only was she the hostess, but the entertainment as well. She was holding a private “class” at her home for her close friends. Linda was a psychic and would regularly hold classes where she would share some of her otherworld experiences with people and give them a little bit of insight into their life. Group classes were a mere $15, whereas an hour session cost around $60. This night, however, seemed to be free of charge with it being only her and her close friends.
The party consisted of about 20 people. They all seemed to have known Linda for quite some time, or knew her shortly through someone who had known her for a long time. Over half of them claimed to have some sort of psychic abilities. Strange… a house full of psychics and a murder happens. Surely, they would have seen this coming. That is, if their skills were really credible. But maybe someone knew, and perhaps the darkness clouded the future – like the force, in Star Wars. Who knows.
The main suspects so far consist of Bruce, her husband and Petra, her assistant. Of course, both showed signs of emotional shock and surprise at the discovery of her body. Anyone can act, though. Especially a group of supposed psychics – whether legitimate or not. If they aren’t legitimate, then they obviously do a decent job at acting out their job. If they are indeed legitimate, then they would be able to act out a role based on what they could see coming for them in the future.
Three knocks, and after a few moments, a chiseled face appears at the door. He’s slender and tall – around six foot. Salt and peppered, his greying hair shines in the mid-morning sun, and the trace of shadows from his wrinkles decorate his face. It is a sad face which has seen many years. “Come in,” he gestures inside. Obediently, I follow him through a smooth, polished hallway and into a magnificent sitting room. The scene of the crime is just around the corner.
“So,” I begin. “How long have you and Linda been together?” It’s always important to begin with the basics.
He looks down at his hands. “Nearly eight years. But we only just were married two years ago.” I study his face. He must be in his late 50s or 60s. Odd, but irrelevant for the time being. I can see the recent traces of sorrow lingering in his eyes. I ask him if Linda had any known enemies… if she knew everyone at the party… if there were any strangers at the party… her recent business with newer clientele. Discussing the individual guests and looking over the guest list, I see no names that stick out to me, and neither, to him.
“Are you a psychic, yourself?” I question.
“No, no, I wouldn’t say so. Sometimes I hear spirits, but that’s as far as it goes.” I wonder aloud if anything strange was being discussed that night, or heard or predicted by anyone. So far, nothing.
A sigh, and I get up to leave. We shake hands. “Well, thank you Bruce. At least it’s a start.”
His eyes glisten and he asks me one last time, “Please, please find Linda’s killer. She would have seen this coming – should have. Someone very clever would have had to have done this without triggering Linda’s knowing.” Nodding, I trod down the stairs.
“One last thing, Bruce.” I turn around. “What do you think of Petra?”
“Petra? Linda and her were basically best friends. Petra was so loyal to her, I can’t see her ever doing her harm. Why? There isn’t evidence against her, is there?”
“No, not yet. I will keep you updated, Bruce.”
It is only 10 am and I still have a day full of interviews ahead of me. All of the guests from the party, and I will be saving Petra for last. I’ve got a long day ahead of me.
Now 5 o’clock and one more interview is left. There were a lot of rumors spreading through the party members, and not many seemed to favor Petra very much. There was one interview that stuck with me. “Petra is always trying to show off. Always bragging about her powers and everything she feels, imitating everything Linda says and does.” Motive? It’s a possibility. Starving for the attention, when everyone knows she’s trying too hard. Perhaps she would go so far as to murder her idol in order to become the center of the audience.
Her apartment’s in a nice part of town. I knock a few times and the door swings open revealing a puffy face hidden behind a box of tissues. “Oh!” she gasps, “Thank goodness you’re finally here!” Her face red and raw from crying all day (or what I assume to be all day, based on the tissues scattered around her house), she leads me into the living room. There are tissues everywhere. She offers me a tissue and I politely decline. I can tell this is going to be a difficult interview. Her continuous sobs break through her hands, ringing in my ears. Not for a second do I believe it.
“Petra, I understand you’re upset, but we’re going to have to get through this interview. If we don’t finish today, I’m just going to have to come back tomorrow.” She nods, a silent agreement. The basic questions first: how long have you known her, suspicious behavior recently, any known enemies, strange clients, etc. I come up with nothing. “Are you aware that a lot of the suspicion is on you, for killing Linda?” Maybe this will strike a nerve.
A pause, she looks up from her tissues. A twitch. “Of course I am aware. I can see into the future and know what’s going on in the present, after all.”
I see what they mean by showing off. “I have heard that you like to chime in at classes often, repeating a lot of what Linda says and exaggerating it through yourself.”
“I don’t repeat what she says. I elaborate on my own feelings, which are entirely separate from her feelings and experiences. I am not copying her, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“It’s only been a suggestion so far,” I say smoothly. She seems agitated. “However, this is the only motive that we can build upon so far. We have nothing, besides the idea that you may have wanted to replace Linda in her career.”
“Nonsense!” She stands up from the couch. “I would never do anything to harm Linda. I can’t believe that people are accusing me of such a thing. That is absolutely preposterous!”
“I understand your feelings, Petra. I’m going to have to come back again tomorrow to try to figure things out, and in the mean time I’ll continue to interview the rest of the party guests.”
Leaving the apartment, I wonder what to think. It seemed like an act to me, but some people do get very emotional. With the fury in her eyes, however, I can’t help to hope that there isn’t another dead body in the morning. The only thing it would prove is that Petra more than likely killed Linda, and that can be determined in better, less violent ways.
For now, it is merely a theory.
To be continued…