Murder by Medium

Chapter 11-The Spider's web unravels

—-——The Spider's web unravels—-——

Phaedra's heart pounded against her ribs as she cautiously opened the door, a surge of fear and resignation washing over her. Detective Marlowe and Officer Price stood on her doorstep, their faces etched with a mix of determination and suspicion.

"Come in," Phaedra managed, attempting to appear confident but her voice gave her away. It was barely a whisper.

The detectives stepped into her small, cluttered apartment, taking in the eclectic array of crystals, tarot cards, and candles that adorned every surface. Phaedra couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as she realized how her carefully constructed facade was on the verge of crumbling.

She offered them a seat while taking one herself. She cleared her throat "Are you here on police business?"

"Well we've been looking into a few cases," Marlowe began, her voice firm but measured. "And your name has come up quite a few times."

Phaedra's breath caught in her throat. She had known this was coming, but hearing it out loud was still a shock.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she replied, trying to maintain her composure.

Price stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Phaedra. "We're talking about the missing persons and accidental deaths in the area. You've been connected to all the families involved."

Phaedra's mind raced. How had they discovered her connection? Had Rowan betrayed her trust?

"That's true," Phaedra admitted, her voice barely audible. "But I've just been trying to help people. I've been providing comfort to grieving families."

Officer Price raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly have you been doing that?"

Phaedra hesitated. She couldn't reveal the truth about her methods. She couldn't admit that she had been using her psychic abilities to manipulate people, to lead them down a path of despair and destruction.

"I just have a gift," Phaedra replied, her voice trembling. "A gift for seeing things that others can't."

Price and Marlowe exchanged a glance. Marlowe leaned forward. "We've been looking into your past, Phaedra. We know about the scams, the fake identity claims. And we know about your time as 'Phony Phaedra.'"

Phaedra's face flushed with shame. She had tried so hard to forget that part of her life.

"That was a long time ago," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I've changed."

"Is that so?" Marlowe asked, her tone skeptical. "Or have you just gotten better at hiding your tracks?"

That's when Price noticed the phone, its screen lighting up with a reminder of the last unanswered notification. Price's shoulder bumped into Marlowe's as a subtle prompt who watched as Price's gaze followed the almost discrete movement of Phaedra's hand towards it. She saw the phone vibrate slightly, and Phaedra's eyes bulge slightly, still trying to discretely reach the phone. The detective's eyes narrowed, and she leaned in closer, her voice barely audible. "And who might that be?"

Phaedra had to think fast, the text itself wouldn't arouse any suspicion, not even Rowan's name would cause any misgivings at least on it's own. Rowan was starting to become Rowan was becoming a nuisance, problematic, and a liability that needed to be eliminated. Phaedra couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt turning her 'accomplice' into a snivelling scapegoat, but she knew that her own safety was paramount. Rowan's own problems with Cillian and his ever-growing 'conscience' were becoming a problem. He thought he'd been hiding it well but Phaedra saw the look in his eyes after Agnes and how he had taken a bit too long to finish off the black mail with Thomas.

Rowan had to go, and go in a way he would never be forgotten.

The nosey officer had picked up her phone now and was probably reading the innocuous text 

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

Phaedra in court would later say she 'felt a wave of panic' and 'knew she couldn't continue the charade and had to tell them the truth, no matter the consequences' Yeah right.

So putting on her mask like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings Phaedra's voice wobbled and broke

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice quivering. "I've been lying to everyone. I'm not a psychic. I've been manipulating people, using their grief for my own gain."

The detectives were taken aback. They had expected Phaedra to deny everything, to fight for her freedom. But instead, she was confessing to a series of heinous crimes.

"Why?" Marlowe asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

Phaedra looked down at her hands. "I don't know," she replied. "I guess I just wanted to feel important. To feel like I had power But I don't. I've been in someone else's power instead. Oh what a fool I've been"

As the detectives began to piece together the puzzle of Phaedra's crimes, she knew that her days of freedom were now secure while Rowan's were numbered. The web of deceit she had woven had finally caught up with her, and for one of them there was no escaping the consequences.