Murder by Medium

Chapter 3-The price of Closure

—-——The price of Closure—-—— 

The air buzzed with unspent tension as Phaedra swung the door shut, but before she could fully close it behind her, Rowan burst forth. "I'm behind on my rent, my landlord's threatening eviction, and Cillian's got threats of his own if I don't pay up."

Phaedra's mind drifted to Cillian—a wannabe gangster whose bark was more potent than his bite. He thrived on bullying lowlifes like Rowan, pushing them into a spiral of dubious odd jobs and get-rich-quick schemes that always seemed to end with them deep in debt over absurdities as trivial as a seat on his threadbare sofa.

Rowan's voice broke through her thoughts, his nerves cracking as he stammered, "-and since you helped me out before, I was wondering if there was anything I could do for cash. I could hang flyers, advertise at the next circus event... even mow your grass."

Phaedra raised an eyebrow, her voice dry as a desert. "Rowan, I live in a flat. I don't have a garden."

Rowan's smile twisted into an awkward, bashful grin, his face crinkling like a crumpled takeout menu. "Well, there's your problem! You wouldn't be missing out on grass if you bought my exclusive 'Window Box Garden Kit!'" and from god knows where he unveiled the grotesque soggy cardboard thing with the words 'Window Box Garden Kit' scrawled on it in black marker, hardly legible, the ink had blurred and bled, causing the words to drip down the side of the box as the pen had succumbed to the water. Phaedra pushed the thing and his hands back, plastering on a face of polite indifference

"Although that's a- Phaedra scrabbled for the word- "a kind offer I actually have a better way you could assist me." Rowan leaned away, putting the damp, soggy thing back into his back trouser pocket and crossed his arms, a sign he was intrigued but not trying to look too eager although his eyes sparkled with opportunity.

Phaedra paused, letting the weight of her proposition settle in the air between them. She could feel the tide of her ambition sucking her into deeper waters, and with every moment of silence, the gravity of what she was about to suggest thickened the atmosphere like fog.

"Rowan," she started, her voice now softened to a conspiratorial whisper, "I need you to find me a family. A vulnerable one, short on cash, just lot their family pet that sort although preferably where there's been a loss- a family member who's passed away recently."

Rowan stiffened slightly, confusion knitting his brow. "Um, what do you mean by 'find'? You mean just ask around or...?"

Phaedra waved her hand dismissively. "No, no. More than that. I need you to dig, dig deep. Talk to people; find someone who might lead you to a target. Ideally, I want someone who's still grieving—someone raw enough that their pain can be felt, tasted even."

"And you just want me to...find a family in mourning? What for?" Rowan's expression shifted, realization beginning to dawn on him.

Phaedra's voice hardened, and with a steely gaze that bore into his, she continued. "I need you to eliminate a family member. Just one, any one young, old, any. It's crucial to ensure the family's vulnerability is at its peak when I approach them for...closure."

"Closure?" Rowan echoed, his brow furrowing deeper. "You mean, like, a séance or something?"

Phaedra nodded, her ginger hair framing her face like curtains. "Exactly. I'll perform a séance for them, bring a spectacle of the dead, a definitive answer into their grieving hearts. Closure is a service, Rowan; it's what people seek when they lose someone—something they believe will give them peace. I can give them a memory, a message but it's all based on emotion, their sorrow ripe for manipulation... but I need you to strike first."

Rowan's gaze flickered between confusion and horror. "But...that's, I mean—how could I—"

"Think of it as a transaction," she interrupted, leaning closer, her voice dropping lower barely a whisper, "You collect the details I need—the background, the family dynamics, anything that will help me craft a convincing act for the séance. Just think of it as providing me with raw material for a script. Once I have that, I can perform miracles, deliver messages from beyond."

His stomach churned at the thought; yet he could feel the weight of her words weighing him down, forcing him to reconcile the horror of the deed with the opportunity for quick cash and freedom from Cillian. "And if I refuse?"

Phaedra straightened, an enigmatic smile creeping across her lips. "Let's not entertain that idea. You need this money, Rowan. Think about your rent, about that thug Cillian. What's the alternative—to be evicted or worse? You'll be helping someone—though it may not look that way from the outside. Just think about it. Together, we can create something unforgettable for them Bring them peace."

Rowan hesitated, the battle inside him evident, but his desperation began to fold against Phaedra's sheer determination. She had him cornered—whether he realized it or not he'd already agreed the moment he'd knocked on her door.

"Do we have a deal?" she finally asked, arching an expectant brow as she surveyed his features, calculating the very moment she could sense him lean towards acceptance.

After a long pause filled with a cocktail of fear and intrigue, Rowan nodded tentatively. "Okay... okay, I'll do it."

Phaedra's smile widened, a glimmer of dark satisfaction flashing in her eyes. "Excellent. You're going to make families closure so memorable. Now, let's get started."