Making a Medium by Erin Huss

Author:Erin Huss [Huss, Erin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EH Publications
Published: 2019-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

"Six, seven, eight, five, four, eight," Willie says. He's lying on the ground of my parents’ bedroom staring up at the ceiling.

I type in the numbers. "Denied access."

"Six, seven, eight, five, four, nine."

I type in the numbers. "Nope."

Willie spouts off another set of digits from the list. Over the last four days, we've tried three hundred numerical combinations. The autopsy results haven't been released, the detective hasn't been in contact, LeRoy put a "no visitors" sign on his door, and I called in sick to my imaginary job because today is Monday. Nothing happened over the weekend, and I want to be readily available if Betty receives the autopsy results or if Daniel files the appeal.

I type in the next set of numbers, blinking hard as the digital display blurs.

Access denied.

"I'm done for now." I drag the chair back to the table and curl up on the couch with a blanket.

"The results should be in today. Don't you think? It shouldn't take this long. He said the preliminary should have been in by Friday."

"Mmmhmmm." I pull the blanket over my head.

"Let's go find Betty," Willie says. "I want to get out of this house. We've been in here too long."

"Let me take a power nap first." I roll to my side and close my eyes. Jabba jumps up on the couch and decides to lie on my head. Not exactly comfortable, but I’m too tired to care.

"You've already taken one nap today."

"I need another."

Willie grunts, and Jabba hisses at him.

“That cat is possessed,” he says.

“This coming from a ghost wearing a homburg hat.”

“What does my hat have to do with anything?”

“Don’t know.”

“All this waiting is getting to me. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I've come up with more people who could have killed me. I need you to write them down and give the list to Betty so she can hand them over to the detective. He thinks you're crazy, so it's probably best that it comes from her."

"Mmhmmm." I've already tuned him out.

"Zoe! Get up!"

Ugh. I move Jabba (much to his disapproval) and shuffle to my bedroom to get a pen and paper. I unlock my briefcase, and suddenly it blurs into two. I blink a few times to focus and shake my head.

I return to the couch and my blanket, cross my legs, and click the pen. "Who wanted to kill you?”

"I'm up to fifty people."

"Fifty?"

"I'm starting in nineteen fifty-two.”

"Fifty?"

"Are you going to start writing or not?"

"Yes, but fifty? I don't even know fifty people, and you have fifty people who you think could have killed you."

"Start with Jenny Clark. We dated for six weeks. I had to break up with her because she had terrible breath."

"Why would she want to kill you?"

"Because I told her she had terrible breath. Someone had to.”

I start to write the name down. "Wait. Is that the same Jenny Clark who owns the salon?"

"Yes."

I scribble out the name.

"What are you doing?"

"She's a sweet old lady. She does my mom's hair.

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