Murder by Medium

Chapter 10-Fraying Threads of Deceit

—-——Fraying threads of Deceit—-——

Detective Maurine 'Molly' Marlowe leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled under her chin as she studied the scattered files before her, this thing was getting out of hand. With each reading Phaedra conducted, her reputation had ballooned to almost mythic proportions, drawing attention not only from grieving clients but now from law enforcement. It was uncanny how she seemed to solve these tragedies, each tragic event pulling Phaedra deeper into suspicion.

"You sure about this?" her partner, Officer Leah Price, asked from the other side of the desk, her brow furrowed in concern. "You think she could be tied to those cases?"

Marlowe nodded, her expression grim. "There's more than mere coincidence here; she's been right too many times. It's almost as if she has insider information," she replied, tapping a finger on a particularly ominous report. "We're going to need more than just surface-level investigation. We're searching for patterns here—past failures may lead us to her current successes."

Leah nodded, a weary sigh escaping her. "Let's dig into her history then. What do we know?"

"Phaedra Thorne," Marlowe echoed, flipping through pages of case notes stacked precariously in her file. "Born and raised here. Left home at fifeteen after the disappearance of her Parents. No one seems to know much about her until she resurfaced as 'Psychic Phaedra' five years ago. Before that, a handful of petty theft and fraud charges, mostly involving fake identity claims and scams in the local clubs."

"Scams? Like confidence schemes?" Leah's interest piqued, and she stood to grab a semi-warm cup of coffee.

"Exactly," Marlowe continued, scrolling through her notes. "At one point, she was dubbed 'Phony Phaedra' by the local area- even had a section in the local paper. Her alleged 'abilities' made her adept at spinning deceitful narratives, but somewhere along the line, she found a way to turn the tables—perhaps she truly believed her own hype, or knew how to navigate the murky waters of grief."

Leah returned, blowing gently on the coffee before taking a sip. "Seems she thrived on sadness instead of living off it. Sounds like the perfect grifter. But what triggered that sudden shift to success?"

Marlowe rifled through more papers until she found the file marked 'Closed Cases and Cases of unusual endings- Unsolved.' "Here's where it gets interesting." She slid the papers across the desk. "Several missing and 'accidental' deaths in our area—the common thread? She was connected to all the families. Clients who've come to her for closure. When you look at it that way, it starts to feel more structured. Almost too neat."

The gears began to click in Leah's mind. "Are you suggesting she had something to do with their deaths?"

"Yes," Marlowe said, her voice barely above a whisper. "The idea isn't far-fetched; a killer could certainly pull off the perfect murder while simultaneously playing the role of a medium providing comfort to the grieving consumer. We need to find a way in—gather evidence without tipping her off. If she's woven into the very fabric of these tragedies, then we'll need to tread carefully."

Leah glanced at the clock, a worried expression crawling across his face. "Well, let's not think too hard about it. What if we set up a meeting with her? You know, create a plausible excuse to discuss her readings? She'd never expect an inquiry from the police."

Marlowe considered, her thoughts intertwined with shadows of doubt. No, Phaedra hasn't gotten this far being cautious, I don't think it would matter what we do, I don't think she'd ever expect a police inquiry. Still let's tread lightly and dig deeper into her past. I'd like to know if there were any suspicious events during her rise. Anything before the 'Noble False Widow Spider' incident that might link her to dreaded outcomes."

As she pulled out her personal phone, tapping into the local police database, Marlowe felt the twitch of anticipation through her veins. Phaedra Thorne had walked a dark road, and now it was time for her to confront the demons she had expertly kept at bay.

The following evening, Phaedra sat at her familiar cluttered kitchen table, a half-empty bottle of wine perched nearby as she congratulated herself on another well done séance and finalized her notes from Rowan detailing her next 'successful' séance. The walls seemed to fade as she basked in the glow of her own accomplishments. The money had become a lifeline, the façade of the medium serving as a shield against her true self. But the echoes of 'Phony Phaedra' from those people and the paper she hated still haunted her thoughts like the ghosts she desperately tried to connect with during her sessions.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed, jolting her from her reverie. A text from Rowan flashed across the screen:

"Heads up! We might have company. Some friends of Cillian have been hanging around. Keep an eye out." 

Phaedra's heart raced, a sense of dread rising within her. Had someone begun to connect the dots? Had her meticulous web of lies begun to fray? She took a deep breath, willing herself not to panic. She had navigated these tumultuous waters before.

Then her phone buzzed again. Rowan. Again.

''Are we still on for tomorrow, our place, advertising'

Before she could calm down and gather herself, the sharp knock at her door echoed ominously through her apartment. Phaedra hesitated, glancing briefly at the window. The footfalls outside were muffled, concealed by the dimness of dusk. A labyrinth of uncertainty began to coil around her.

"Who is it?" she called, the tremor in her voice betraying her calm facade.

"It's Detective Marlowe," came a firm voice from the other side.

"and Officer Price" a smaller weedy voice added

Phaedra's stomach tightened, the thud of her heart hammering out a warning.

"Can I help you?" she replied, her voice steadier than she felt.

"It's important that we talk. Open the door."

Her world was no longer contained, and the spectre of her past now stood resolutely before her door. Phaedra swallowed hard as the weight of her decisions pressed heavily upon her chest.

This encounter could expose her for all the fragility and falseness she had sewn together under the guise of psychic gifting, and the ominous turn of fate she sought to evade now crept closer, threatening to ensnare her in a web of her own making.