“Foreign Substances.”
She looked askance at him and quirked an eyebrow.
“Foreign Substances?”
He frowned and glared at her.
“Yes, Foreign Substances.” He said it as if he thought her an idiot. “What else would you call it, Ms. Flint?”
She grinned and placed a sassy hand on her hip.
“Well, I’d call it dog shit, Earl. But that’s just me.”

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I entered the deserted home and flicked on the entry lights as I shut the door behind me. Laying my briefcase and keys on the kitchen counter, I walked through the house turning on lights. My client would arrive soon and I wanted to make sure things looked inviting and smelled pleasant after the house had been shut up for so long.

Entering the master bedroom, I noticed the doorknob was loose. Bending to take a look at the issue, I heard a creak behind me and turned quickly. Seeing nothing and no one in the room with me, I turned back to the doorknob. There it was again. Closer this time. I stood up slowly and looked over my shoulder. As I turned, a cold wind blew past and through me, taking my breath away.

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I knew I was awake, but I couldn’t see a thing. My eyes were open but everything was black. I lay perfectly still, testing my body to see if I could move. I could wiggle my toes and lift my legs. Every movement hurt. I raised an arm to feel my face. I touch something soft and spongy. Bandages. My face was completely covered in bandages.

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She scowled as her adviser talked. Thoughts ran through her head, unhindered.

“You’re the moron. I’m not stupid. I know what I know.”

She never should have told him about the voices she hears when no one else hears them. The people who talk to her that no one else can hear or see. She should have kept that to herself.

“Know what, Mr. Peterson?” She blurted out in the middle of his monologue, “I think I’m cured.”

Grabbing her book bag, Karen flounced out of the office without so much as a ‘Good Day.’

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Weary from a long day of no leads, I was hardly in the mood to take Mark’s suggestion, but I had a few of my own.

I quirked an eyebrow at him and said, “So?”

“So? What do you mean, so?”

“I mean ‘So’, Mark. So what? So he had a gun. So he had no alibi. So he had a flimsy motive. So fucking what. I’m telling you, he’s NOT THE GUY.” I slammed my palm onto the desk for emphasis.

Mark, unimpressed, said, “I’m bringing him in.”

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I don’t know where the time went. One minute, I was sitting in the waiting room and the next minute I was walking out to my car. It was hot outside, but I wore a long jacket and a sweater. I didn’t remember wearing that to the office. The sun was high in the afternoon sky. I blinked, realizing my sunglasses were gone. Stopping by my car, I realized I had no idea what had happened in that office. I had no memory of the appointment or the outcome. A chill ran down my spine and I turned to look at the building. I saw a curtain move in the upstairs window and a pale hand disappear from view.

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The framework of the building was such that when it was finished, the house would be an octagon. The eccentric owner had requested that all the windows face only to the East. There were to be no windows on the North, South or West sides of the house. Eric thought it was odd, but then, he had worked with plenty odd, rich customers in the past.

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I watched the lemonade pour from the pitcher. The condensation dripped down onto the table. I smelled the citrus juice in the ice cold drink and my mouth started to water. The ice cubes clinked together in the glass. I looked up at Sandra. She smiled, but the gesture never touched her eyes.

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The cathedral was packed with people and noisy. All around me, there were people with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. They were wet from the rain, their hair stuck to their scalps, their eyes huge with shock and confusion. I searched the crowd, walking slowly from person to person, looking into their eyes, turning them around to see their faces. They were hugging each other and offering condolences for lost loved ones. It was like a horror movie come true.

I was near the alter when the double doors blew open. The wind rushed in, bringing with it the smell of rain and wet leaves.

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Suddenly, the answer hit me like a frying pan in the face. They had been switching places! That’s why Laurie and Sam had both claimed they were at the cafe during the murder. They had switched shifts and not changed it on the shift schedule. So now the question was, who was telling the truth and who was the murderer?

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