Bull's Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #3

Chapter 24

"We're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality."

Karl Rove, senior advisor to U.S. President George W. Bush from 2001 to 2007, as quoted in 2004 in the New York Times.

Zandra tells Vince to drive to a church-run food shelf, but she doesn't explain why. Better to leave her companions in suspense. That supernatural persona won't groom itself.

Cutiology. Palm reading. Doesn't matter. Any time you give a soothsayer your hand, you're finished. The game is over. People experience their entire lives through their hands.

The spotter's fingernails bore the teal polish that they dole out en masse at the food shelf. It's cheap stuff, and it flakes quickly. Of course, it's not the only cheap, teal nail polish around.

That's why the scaly eczema that ran up and down her fingers was important. The shampoo at the food shelf is also subpar. It's the kind that makes you break out when you rub it between your fingers. It paints a clearer picture of her, but that's not enough.

What is is the fact she's living off of cash she earns from those rings. That means she qualifies for assistance, but she's not naive enough to go to the government without a back up plan. There's a church in town, in the name of goodwill toward humanity and all that fluffy bullshit, with a no-questions-asked policy at its private food shelf. Anyone can come by for any reason.

The spotter had said, "Oh, yes. I saw him, and it wasn't just here." I bet they ran into each other at the food shelf. He's running in the same circles as she is, and they all follow predictable patterns. People are like that. Birds of a feather flock together. Figure out one bird, you can pattern the entire flock.

Zandra's not as confident about her hunch as she lets on to Vince and Jo, but she doesn't worry. Half of her act is being confident despite the odds. They're never in her favor in the first place. That's why it's called a hunch.

If only others were as skeptical, they might avoid some of the leaps in logic that prop up the assumptions that maintain everyday life. An abandoned, single-level motel the Jeep passes by reminds Zandra of what this means.

Several years ago, nature hadn't yet chipped away at the motel's parking lot and tall sign. The owners hadn't yet closed the business. Just the opposite. They hoped to break into new consumer bases by trying their hand at creative marketing: creating a ghost. Or so Zandra figured when the newspaper reported on a ghost-hunting organization "investigating" strange activity at the motel. By sheer coincidence, only the owners witnessed said activity.

The ghost hunters hired Zandra to assist with an EVP – "electronic voice phenomena," or catching ghosts on audio – session in Room 27. The ghost hunters supposed that Zandra could amplify the progress they'd made with spiritual contact. They played back the evidence for Zandra with a grin on their faces. Zandra heard a couple mumbles that could be anything. What happened during the session that followed is something Zandra never recounted to anyone since.

The owners told Zandra about a murder in Room 27 that allegedly happened in 1996. This surprised her, since her thorough reading of the newspapers from that year never recalled the event. She figured the owners planted that idea in the ghost hunters' minds before dispatching the team to collect the evidence. Anything captured on video or audio that seemed out of place would be pre-conditioned to be related to the murder.

Zandra figured it'd be fun to burst some bubbles. She could put on a show, take control of the ghost hunters' perception of events and twist the story on its head. After all, she was the authority in the situation. What she said would be taken as law. She planned to reveal not a murder, but a poisoning. Specifically, the death would come from environmental poisoning on account of the black mold in the motel's drywall and the deceased's severe allergic reaction.