Through the Eyes of Prendle

Chapter 9: The Secret Is Out

Since Lucas Findlay had left her apartment early that morning, Prendle had been busy. She had been to the market, the department store, and the Southlyn Hotel to avoid a crisis with one of the rooms. Kaitlyn, the clerk behind the desk, said a guest came down wanting her sink fixed. It was falling from the wall, and she told her she would be gone for a long time until really late that evening. Prendle had gone to the room to look at it, but there was no way she could fix it, so she called the maintenance man. Russ had fixed the problem within just a few minutes. He hated being on call, especially on the weekends, and it showed in his attitude, but he knew better than to give Prendle lip about it.

Now, Prendle was back in her apartment, with her bare feet propped up on the coffee table, her butt nestled on the couch, flipping through channels on the television in front of her. It was late afternoon, so there wasn't much on but soap operas. She found them too ridiculous and far-fetched to bother, so she sailed past those channels. With a long sigh, she stopped on the local news channel and left it there. It was a world broadcast, but she couldn't imagine anyone watching it. Who would want to know what was going on in Marshlyn, Kentucky?

The reporter on the screen was a vibrant older woman. She seemed to be talking about something big, murder as a matter of fact, and her eyes danced on camera. It was easy to tell she was fascinated by what she was reporting. Prendle scooted to the edge of her seat as the cameras panned to show the police caution tape at the scene of the crime and the Marshlyn Police Department vehicles parked close by.

"This footage was shot earlier today," she told the viewers.

Prendle saw someone she knew, Lucas Findlay, walk by and give the reporters a statement, a typical police response of 'no comment.' She smiled at his voice, remembering his gracious attitude toward her earlier. He was annoyed, but his voice was comforting. It was far from the tone of the man who had sat in the same spot she was now just earlier this morning.

The camera turned back to the woman reporter.

"But the murder of a resident, whose name has not yet been officially released, isn't the most interesting story of the hour," she gushed. "To tell you more about it, here is Matt Diamond."

The screen changed to a young man with an eager smile. "Thank you, Jaime," he said charismatically. "From an unnamed source, I discovered the Marshlyn Police Department has had a secret these past few years. They have had help keeping the low crime rate that won them an honorary plaque from the state last year for quite some time now. My source, who wishes to remain anonymous, tells me Marshlyn PD has been getting tips from a local psychic, none other than Southlyn Hotel manager Prendle Rose. Hopefully, there will be more on this story, including an interview with the Police Department and Ms. Rose herself. We'll keep you posted."

Prendle's heart rate plummeted, and the color drained from her face. She thought she was going to pass out. With a shaky hand, she reached for the remote and turned the television off. Lucas had promised her he would keep his mouth shut! She was so furious and nervous that she could barely breathe. He had no idea what he had done.

A sharp knock on her front door caused her to gasp. She wasn't expecting anyone so soon. The broadcast had only just aired. Dread filled her stomach. There's probably a sea of reporters out there, she thought bitterly as she slowly rose. She checked the peephole to make sure they weren't. Her jaw was set the moment she saw who her visitor was. She was shocked he was standing there, that he would have the nerve to come and see her after what he did. It was none other than Lucas Findlay. Anger flooded through her. She yanked the door open and crossed her arms on her chest. She wanted him to know she was furious with what he had done.