her hand. “She came to me in my room, you know, clearly distraught. She told me the whole sordid story and begged me to help her. But, as you know, there is little one can do for a suicide victim.”
By now I was playing with the corners of the napkin in my lap. It was taking a lot not to comment on the load of baloney coming out of Madam Hateful’s mouth, but I knew I needed to resist. Sophie deserved a little respect, and my ego didn’t need to be pumped up by dragging out what had really happened to her for these folks to feast on.
On the other side of the table, however, a voice of reason piped up. “You know, I don’t think it was a suicide,” Heath said thoughtfully.
My eyes shot over to him. “Really?” I questioned.
He nodded, and his eyes held a faraway look. “I think she was murdered.”
Heath now had my full attention, but Madam Hateful and Captain Comb-over were unimpressed.
“Murder!” scoffed Bernard. “Ridiculous. No, I agree with Angelica. The girl clearly jumped to her death.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, unable to resist poking the tiger now that I had an ally. “I actually agree with Heath.”
“Of course you do,” said Madam Hateful, and she and Bernard exchanged knowing glances. “Perhaps when you’ve had a bit more practice you’ll be able to distinguish between a suicide and a murder,” she added, looking pointedly at Heath.
Heath turned red and took a sip of water, clearly intimidated by the odd couple. I was about to argue his point when our waiter appeared and began taking everyone’s order. After he left, the conversation changed to talk of the show. “Tomorrow I’ll need you four mediums to meet me down in the lobby no later than eight thirty. We’ve reserved one of the larger conference rooms at the Duke, and when we meet in the morning I’ll lead you there.”
“Can you talk a little bit about how this is going to unfold?” I asked.
“Certainly,” said Gopher. “I think initially we should set you up in groups of two. We’ve got a great inventory of haunted possessions for you to give your impressions on, and we’ll have these displayed one at a time on a table, with the owner of the item in question, who can verify or disprove your conclusions, on the other side of the table.”
I glanced at Gilley, and I could tell he knew I wasn’t liking that whole “disprove your conclusions” part.
“When you say you have the owner there to authenticate or disprove the medium’s findings,” Gil said, taking the lead for me, “do you mean that this person will be well versed in the object’s entire history? And the reason I ask is that M.J. can often pick up even the subtlest energies, some lost to history or to anyone living.”
Gopher nodded. “Yes, we’ve been very careful to research each and every haunted possession so that we can easily identify whether you mediums are reading accurate information. Trust me, if you’re all as talented as I think you are, this should be a walk in the park.”
But I still had my doubts, and they lingered all through our delectable meal and into the oh-so-delicious hot-fudge sundaes that followed.
Over dessert Gopher told us a little bit about his background. “I used to work as a producer for 60 Minutes ,” he bragged. “Did some really great stories there, but you know how it is at those news shows.”
Everyone looked at him curiously. Apparently we didn’t all know how it was.
“They burn you out quick,” he advised. “Then I kicked around for a while out in L.A. I had some great offers to work on some pretty cool stuff—you know, reality TV is where it’s at these days—but I wanted to do something hipper, not another Idol retread or Big Brother knockoff. That’s when I met Roger, and he and I had the same philosophy, know what I’m saying?”
Again all eyes around the table looked curiously at him. We didn’t.
“We wanted to push the envelope, man!” Gopher said. “So we came up
By now I was playing with the corners of the napkin in my lap. It was taking a lot not to comment on the load of baloney coming out of Madam Hateful’s mouth, but I knew I needed to resist. Sophie deserved a little respect, and my ego didn’t need to be pumped up by dragging out what had really happened to her for these folks to feast on.
On the other side of the table, however, a voice of reason piped up. “You know, I don’t think it was a suicide,” Heath said thoughtfully.
My eyes shot over to him. “Really?” I questioned.
He nodded, and his eyes held a faraway look. “I think she was murdered.”
Heath now had my full attention, but Madam Hateful and Captain Comb-over were unimpressed.
“Murder!” scoffed Bernard. “Ridiculous. No, I agree with Angelica. The girl clearly jumped to her death.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, unable to resist poking the tiger now that I had an ally. “I actually agree with Heath.”
“Of course you do,” said Madam Hateful, and she and Bernard exchanged knowing glances. “Perhaps when you’ve had a bit more practice you’ll be able to distinguish between a suicide and a murder,” she added, looking pointedly at Heath.
Heath turned red and took a sip of water, clearly intimidated by the odd couple. I was about to argue his point when our waiter appeared and began taking everyone’s order. After he left, the conversation changed to talk of the show. “Tomorrow I’ll need you four mediums to meet me down in the lobby no later than eight thirty. We’ve reserved one of the larger conference rooms at the Duke, and when we meet in the morning I’ll lead you there.”
“Can you talk a little bit about how this is going to unfold?” I asked.
“Certainly,” said Gopher. “I think initially we should set you up in groups of two. We’ve got a great inventory of haunted possessions for you to give your impressions on, and we’ll have these displayed one at a time on a table, with the owner of the item in question, who can verify or disprove your conclusions, on the other side of the table.”
I glanced at Gilley, and I could tell he knew I wasn’t liking that whole “disprove your conclusions” part.
“When you say you have the owner there to authenticate or disprove the medium’s findings,” Gil said, taking the lead for me, “do you mean that this person will be well versed in the object’s entire history? And the reason I ask is that M.J. can often pick up even the subtlest energies, some lost to history or to anyone living.”
Gopher nodded. “Yes, we’ve been very careful to research each and every haunted possession so that we can easily identify whether you mediums are reading accurate information. Trust me, if you’re all as talented as I think you are, this should be a walk in the park.”
But I still had my doubts, and they lingered all through our delectable meal and into the oh-so-delicious hot-fudge sundaes that followed.
Over dessert Gopher told us a little bit about his background. “I used to work as a producer for 60 Minutes ,” he bragged. “Did some really great stories there, but you know how it is at those news shows.”
Everyone looked at him curiously. Apparently we didn’t all know how it was.
“They burn you out quick,” he advised. “Then I kicked around for a while out in L.A. I had some great offers to work on some pretty cool stuff—you know, reality TV is where it’s at these days—but I wanted to do something hipper, not another Idol retread or Big Brother knockoff. That’s when I met Roger, and he and I had the same philosophy, know what I’m saying?”
Again all eyes around the table looked curiously at him. We didn’t.
“We wanted to push the envelope, man!” Gopher said. “So we came up
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