``Well, let's see . . .'' Zoe said, thinking. ``I come from
� Kansas, and I'm a member of the faculty at the Institute for Metaphysical Studies, which is a school completely dedi- cated to helping naturally gifted intuitives develop their abilities while gathering evidence of psychic phenomena.''
``Uh-huh,'' I said, nodding my head as if fascinated. ``So tell me about this research. Why are you so intent on prov- ing the existence of our sixth sense?''
``Well, for one thing, our school doesn't get much in the way of funding, and if we were able to prove the existence of psychic phenomena then we would be eligible to win a two-and-a-half-million dollar prize that's currently up for grabs.''
My brow crinkled, alarm bells clanging in my head. ``Two-and-a-half-million dollar prize?'' I asked carefully.
``Yes.'' Zoe nodded eagerly. ``In fact,'' she continued,
� leaning forward conspiratorially, ``you know the woman who was murdered here this weekend?''
``Yes,'' I said almost casually.
``Well, she ran a foundation that had a trust fund set up for any person or institution that could scientifically prove the existence of psychic phenomena.''
``I see,'' I said. ``But now that she's dead, doesn't that pretty much nix your chances?''
``No, not at all. In fact, it actually improves them.''
``How?'' I asked, looking at Cat and Millicent, who were glued to the conversation and the direction it was going.
``Well, now that Celeste is dead, the trust will go to her heir, Gerald Ballentine. And I know for a fact that he's not nearly as critical of my research as his mother was. I figure I'll give him a little time to come to grips with what's BLIND SIGHTED 321 happened, and then submit my work. With any luck the check will be mine by next summer.''
``Uh-huh,'' I said, nodding. This woman was practically tripping over herself to throw the shadow of suspicion her way. ``So can I see this research?'' I asked, really curious to see some of her results.
``Sure!'' she said happily, and reached into her briefcase to extract several sheets of paper. ``These are the people I've tested over the years, and yours is right on top,'' she said, pointing to the top sheet.
I looked over some of the pages, and was quite impressed with most of the results. Then, because I felt a tug from my intuition, I began to look more closely at my own test results. I was shocked to discover that my psychic IQ results had actually improved and expanded from the night before. ``Zoe?'' I asked, my brow furrowing slightly.
�
``Yes?''
``On this page here,'' I said, swiveling the paper toward her, ``this is showing that I missed only one card out of four trials, when in fact I missed three cards between two trials.''
Zoe immediately flushed red and snatched the page out
� of my hand, ``Ah, yes . . . sorry about that. Must have been a keying error,'' she said quickly. Liar, liar . . . pants on fire . . .
``Really?'' I asked, my heart dropping, because in spite of myself I was starting to like her. ``Well, it happens.''
``So shall we begin?'' Zoe asked, tucking the papers away
� and smiling innocently.
``Uh, okay . . .'' I said, wondering how I was going to get out of this now that I'd opened Pandora's box.
Just then the patio door burst open and out came Deir- dre, who stormed over to our table and slapped her hand dramatically against her heart while pointing an accusing finger at Zoe as she bellowed, ``You! You're the
� murderer!''
``What?'' The four of us gasped in unison.
``I've just been up to see Gerald, and he told me all about how you could hardly wait until Celeste was in her grave before you started asking about getting your dirty hands on her money! I've asked my guide, Great Wind Talker, to confirm it, and he insists that you murdered Ce- leste so that you could finally claim the prize!'' 322 Victoria Laurie
``That's ridiculous!'' Zoe said, standing up defensively. ``I
� had nothing to do with it! I didn't kill Celeste--you did!''
``I did no such thing!'' Deirdre shouted back. ``I didn't do anything of the kind! But how convenient for you, Zoe, � I mean, now that Celeste is out of the way and all. Your research was turned down year after year. That must have just galled you, didn't it?''
``You don't know what you're talking about!''
``Oh, don't I? I know for a fact that you've been submit- ting your test scores for years, and you'd think that after all this time you would have figured out that it wouldn't have mattered how good your research results were; Ce- leste was never going to pay you! She was never going to pay anyone! The whole thing was a scam just to get publicity--''
``I've checked the records!'' Zoe screamed. ``The trust's
� balance was public record! There was two and a half mil- lion dollars in the account!''
``Of course there was, honey,'' Deirdre said, her voice dripping with condescension. ``But as long as she could ben- efit from the interest--which she did--she was never going to pay that money out! Stupid girl, you've wasted all this time, and now that you've killed her you're still never going to get the money.''
``You're wrong!'' Zoe screamed, her face growing a bril-
� liant shade of red as she folded up her computer and stuffed it back into its carrying case, ``You're wrong, wrong, wrong!'' And with that she stomped off, leaving us to make sense of the scene we'd just witnessed.
When the patio door slammed shut behind Zoe, I looked
� at Deirdre, who had taken a seat in one of the available lounge chairs and was looking at us expectantly. With mounting irritation I asked, ``What the hell
