“Homicide Victims Rarely Talk to Police” —The Express-Times

Madam Lin Merlo sat in her candle-lit living room between Detective Mullen and a crystal ball. A milky mist swirled and pulsed within the glass as a nasal voice spoke.

“I ain’t squealin’ to no cops!”

“Sir.” The seasoned detective’s hands throttled the air. “We’re trying to catch your murderer!”

“So? I already know who did it.”

“Don’t you want them brought to justice?”

“What justice? Ten years' prison time? Five if they play nice? Besides, I’m dead. What good is justice to me now?”

At this, Lin shrugged in agreement and took a drag from her pipe. Its indigo clouds mingled with the smoke from the incense burning on the mismatched end tables.

Detective Mullen ran his hands through his greasy hair, then squinted at the medium.

“You’re losing your touch, Lin.”

“Me?” Smoke fluttered from her nostrils. “You can hear him loud and clear, can’t you?”

Clasping his hands, Detective Mullen returned his attention to the crystal ball. He tried on a more sincere tone.

“Sir, what if he kills someone else?”

“They’ll just wake up here. There are worse things.”

The detective whirled wide-eyed to the medium.

“Lin!”

“What, you think I can just shove my hand up his metaphysical ass and make him talk?” Lin mimed a puppet with her free hand, and a laugh burbled from the crystal ball.

“I don’t know why we bother with you.” The detective stood up from the ripped sofa, pulling a cigarette box from his trench coat. He spat over his shoulder as he trudged toward the apartment door. “This’ll make nine unsolved homicides, Lin.”

After the door slammed shut, Lin gazed from her clashing, secondhand furniture to her leaky windows. Outside, the last bit of orange sunlight bled into the blackening sky over a city where nine murders lurked.

With a smoky sigh, she decided she really didn’t want to be thrown out onto those streets.

“Mr. Ricci, they actually pay me big to help solve murders, and if this keeps up, I’m gonna be living on Ramen and packaged underwear. Is there any way I can bribe you?”

“I’m dead. What could I possibly need?”

“I don’t know. Where’re you at? Heaven? Hell?”

The crystal ball dimmed for a moment.

“...It’s mostly empty space.”

“Oh, there. Well, eternal emptiness will get boring quickly.”

“Sure, but it’s not like you can ship me a TV.”

Lin took a thoughtful drag and looked around her living room. Her eyes fell on her dusty childhood boombox.

“Well, you can hear me fine right? How about radio? You like music? Audiobooks?”

“Ooh, I love those true crime podcasts. Got any of those?”

“I can get them.”

“Alright. One hour a day—”

“Woah there. I have a life… and eight other spirits to bribe now that I know I can. Twice a week.”

“For two hours each.”

“Deal.” Lin tapped her pipe over an ashtray, then sat up straight. “Now, who dunnit?”