The Case of the Haunted Cot

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Joseph Miller and the show’s host sat in the middle of a large stage, facing each other, with several TV cameras aimed at them. There was an empty chair next to Miller, making him wonder if he would have to sit there quietly and politely while she interviewed her next guest. Would they expect him to join in the conversation? The producers backstage had been unhelpfully vague on what would happen after his segment.

‘So do you feel you have seen things beyond science’s understanding?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I do,’ said Miller. ‘Maybe not everything I’ve seen will remain unanswered to science forever, but there are many amazing, incredible things out there that cannot be explained, only experienced.’

‘And you’re a born-again Catholic, right? Did something specifically happen that drew you to Catholicism? It’s not something you go into in your book.’

‘My religious experiences and my paranormal ones, I certainly feel, are linked, but I didn’t want to push those beliefs onto others. The book was about paranormal experiences and evidence. It was never about God and religion, although they matter to me just as much, if not more.’

Feeling the heat from the huge lights, Miller’s armpits became sticky. He hoped it wasn’t obvious to the people watching from home. He could even taste the salty sweat as it dripped down his face.

‘And do you have any difficulty in bringing those two aspects of your life together? What with the church taking the official standpoint of not believing in many of these paranormal events.’

‘That’s a good question,’ Miller said. ‘I personally have not found it difficult in the slightest. There is no shortage of open-minded individuals. I’ve certainly never experienced anything other than support.’

The host’s eyes darted to her left, where her ear-piece was, then quickly focused on Miller again.

‘And your new book — your first book — is out … Friday?’

‘Yes, that’s correct.’

‘Thank you very much for coming on the show,’ said the host, reaching across to shake his hand.

Instinctively, Miller wanted to get up and leave, but he’d been told to stay there until the commercial break. It seemed curious to Miller that nobody would tell him what the next part of the show was, and why it was so important that Miller witness it, but apparently it was.

‘We have a special treat for you next,’ the host said, effortlessly turning from Miller to the currently live camera. ‘Just one of many tonight. He is one of the nation’s best psychics. Please welcome to the stage, Mr Trenton Price.’

There was a thunderous round of applause, which Miller joined in on, despite having no idea who Price was. Apparently he wasn’t alone, as quite a number of audience members were turning to those next to them with a questioning look. Although this wasn’t entirely surprising — the audience was purposely made up of people that hadn’t decided if they believed or not — it did raise the question of just how famous Price could be.

Price came out dressed fully in black, sauntering towards the front of the stage, close to the audience. He looked exactly as Miller expected a TV psychic to look, and Miller wondered how much of that was his doing or the wardrobe department’s.

Scanning the audience members for maybe twenty seconds, Price looked as though he were searching for a familiar face. Eventually, he found his subject. First he pointed to her, not with just a finger, but his whole hand. Then he pressed the same hand against the side of his head, as if he had a slight headache.