The Broken Clock is Right Thrice: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #4

Chapter 26 - Too Many Screams, Not Enough Ice Cream

"A sixth sense cannot make up for a total lack of common sense."

~ Natsuki Takaya, manga creator, Fruit Baskets

Hank heaves with stress. Clutching his stomach, he says, "Oh, I, uh, oh, no, no, I can't watch this."

The Crocodile slaps the back of Hank's head. "Shut the fuck up."

If there really are spirits here, now would be a good time to show up. Haunted house, my ass.

Indeed, something does show up. Whether it's a spirit is debatable. A scream rips through Carey Manor. This time, though, it doesn't come from inside the freezer. It's shrill and crisp, and it's not clear where it came from. It is, however, clear everyone heard it.

Zandra watches for Chad to drop the knife. This time, he has a sturdier grip.

"Is someone else in the house?" Carter says.

"Melvin," Sunglasses says.

"I stuck him in the maid's quarters off the kitchen," Zandra says.

The Crocodile allows Sunglasses passage to the maid's quarters. He returns to report that the door is still locked, and that he can hear snoring inside.

Although no one says it, they all think the same thing. They listen for more screaming, but nothing comes.

"Maybe you pissed off the wrong spirits," Carter says to Zandra.

Maybe I did.

"There's another guest," Sunglasses says through a wheeze.

"What did you just say?" The Crocodile says.

"Zandra invited eight. Only seven showed up," Sunglasses says.

Our guest from apartment 201? Not a chance.

Everyone's heads turn toward Zandra.

"Like you said, only seven turned up," Zandra says. "To be honest, I'm surprised we only had one no-show."

The Crocodile breathes in deep through his nose as if he catching a whiff of the scream. He says, "It came from upstairs."

Oh, so you're part bloodhound, too. My bad.

"Maybe we're all just hearing things. Maybe Zandra here put a little of that beet juice in all our drinks," Carter says.

The Crocodile focuses his slits on Chad.

"Me?" Chad says.

"Yes. Go check it out," The Crocodile says.

"Alone?"

"Bring the knife."

Chad sighs and drags his feet as he exits the kitchen. Bexley takes a step in his direction to follow, but she stays put instead. Her breathing is more noticeable.

"Now, Zandra, open the lock. I don't care how. Just do it, right now, or I shoot," The Crocodile says.

Such an awful liar. He's threatened to shoot me too many times already.

The revolver is less than 10 feet away. The Crocodile keeps putting distance between us whenever I get too close. He's no dummy. He's not going to let someone take that gun out of his hands.

Time to turn the screws.

Zandra shuffles over to the walk-in freezer door and closes her eyes before gently laying her hands on the padlock. She holds that position and breathes deep.