Glass Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective

Chapter 49

After turning in the lawnmower knife for "safe keeping" with the officers, Zandra revisits the interrogation room. Charlie once again sits across the table from her.

"Thank you for meeting with me," Zandra says as cool as the paint on the nondescript walls. "I trust my lawyer will be here soon?"

Charlie gnaws on a pen. There's a red flush to her face and neck. Drinking again, no doubt. "He'll be a minute. Herman the Hermit doesn't have a phone," she says.

"No surprise there. I can wait, though," Zandra says. "Don't bother making small talk. I want him here for this."

"That's your right," Charlie says. "You need anything to drink? Coffee? Water?"

"How about both?"

"I'll be right back," Charlie says and leaves the room. She returns with a bottle of water and a hot coffee cup.

Zandra runs her fingers along the handle of the cup. The heat feels good against her joints. She takes a sip and looks up to Charlie. "Pretty trusting of you to give me a loose cup of hot coffee, seeing as how you think I'm a child killer and all," she says.

"Who said I think that?" Charlie says, placing the pen back between her teeth like a cigarette.

"I'm no idiot," Zandra says.

"You're not. And that's why I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. There are a hundred other things I could arrest you for right now besides that. You've been busy," Charlie says. Folds her hands and leans backward in her chair hard enough to make her back crack. "But for now we can talk."

"I'll tell you how busy I've been in a minute," Zandra says.

The two pass the time by avoiding eye contact until Herman shows up. He's dressed in his signature hobo acid attire, looking as confused as a blind mouse in a bottle.

"Have a seat," Zandra says, motioning for Herman to join her at the table.

Herman sits down and runs a hand through his wild hair. A few shreds of dead leaves flutter to the floor. "You know I don't have a license to practice law anymore, right? I gave all that stuff up," he says.

"That's fine. I requested you for a reason," Zandra says like it's the last words either of them will ever hear.

"Is this about Elle? The cops weren't real clear when they stopped by," Herman says.

"Of course it's about Elle," Zandra says. She looks to Charlie. "You ready?"

Charlie nods and plants the front two legs of her chair back onto the floor. Damn near licks her chops looking at Herman.

Zandra looks straight into Herman's eyes. Holds the stare in place, as if trying to communicate through the twitch in her lower eyelid.

"I know who has Elle, Herman," Zandra says. "Would you like to know who it is?"

Herman swallows. The fuzzy hedgerows that make up his eyebrows squirm. "Sure, Zandra. Let's, uh, let's hear it," he says.

Zandra smiles. Lets the tension build for a few seconds more to up the drama. Always with the theatrics.

"She's sitting across the table from me," Zandra says.