Zelda greeted me in her normal fashion wear, a lose fitting light purple dress with multiple scarves wrapped around her head. If she gets any skinnier, she could make a living renting herself out as a skeleton, to med schools.
“Good morning, Zelda. I see you’re looking well this morning.”
"It's the makeup I wear." She motioned me toward a small circular table where she conducts her readings. “It's called death warmed over.”
I took a seat across from her.
“You’re here to talk about Molly?”
That’s the problem with psychics. You can never surprise them. She was so far ahead of me on this one, I leaned back in my chair and nodded.
“Did you get a vision?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No. Leon came by earlier this morning and told me what happened last night.”
That’s another problem with psychics. On occasion, they get their information the same way other people do.
I leaned forward in my wooden chair and rested one arm on the table. “I was hoping you could help me on this.”
“In what way?”
“Well, for starters, can you communicate with her?”
“Who?”
“Molly?”
She put her finger tips to both sides of her head and closed her eyes. That’s what she does when she’s having a vision. This was going to be easier than I thought.
After a couple of minutes, she opened her eyes and said, “You weren’t the smartest kid your parents had.”
“You got that in a vision?”
“I didn’t need a vision to figure that one out. I was just resting my eyes for a moment.”
“Can we talk about Molly?”
“Sure.”
“What can you tell me about her?”
“She drowned in the lake.”
“I know that. What about her spirit? Does it haunt the lake?”
She shrugged. “How would I know?”
I placed both of my hands on the table and said, “You’re a psychic.”
“Would you excuse me one moment?”
She stood and walked over to a shelf and removed a brown book that looked like it hadn’t been opened in over sixty years. The cloud of dust she blew off of it filled half the room. After she thumbed through a few pages, she returned to the table and read from it. “Considered able to perceive people’s unexpressed thoughts or foresee the future. I don’t see anything in here that says anything about speaking with the dead.”
“Let me see that.”
She handed me the book.
I looked in the front. “This dictionary is out of date, copy write 1943. I bet the new dictionaries say psychic’s talk to the dead.”
“I’m not a new psychic. I’m ninety-eight years old, and I go by what it says in that book.”
“So you can’t help me at all?”
“I didn’t say that. Would you like me to give you a reading and see what’s in your future?”
Now we were getting somewhere.
After a lot of palm reading, ten minutes worth, followed by several mumbled sounds indicating either total shock or mild surprise, Zelda opened her eyes.
“In a book penned in ink, you may find the missing link. Many have searched to no avail, for what she wrote but would not tell.”
“That’s it?” I said.
“No. There is more. But I am old, and I must rest now.”
( To be continued )
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