Page 17 of The Tenant
“I hardly ever see her,” I mumble. That’s a lie. I see her all around the house, sometimes in only her sheer pajamas and once in nothing but a towel.
Krista laughs and drops a hand onto my knee. “I’m not worried.”
Well, that’s good. I think.
My stomach rumbles as the aroma of melting cheese and tomato sauce wafts in from the kitchen. I gaze longingly at the cheese and crackers, but Krista already made a fuss over not having any. So I dutifully polish off the rest of my glass of wine and pour myself a second.
“Anyway,” Krista says, “you should see some of the people we interviewed when we were looking for a tenant. Honestly, it was a bit frightening. We got very, very lucky with Whitney.”
“Oh yeah?” Malcolm asks, settling into his chair. “Sounds like there’s a good story there.”
“My favorite was that woman who almost ate Goldy,” I speak up, finally starting to get a little buzz from the wine on an empty stomach.
Krista smacks me in the knee. “She didn’t almost eat Goldy!”
“She did!” I insist. “She stood right near the fishbowl, and she was telling us how good fresh goldfish tasted. She was basically giving us instructions for how tocookGoldy.”
“Well, she did mention Goldy might taste good with a side of chips,” Krista says.
“Or beer battered,” I add.
Krista is giggling now, also a little buzzed. Her face is glowing slightly the way it always does when she’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s always been a lightweight. “But that wasn’t as bad as that last woman…what was her name? It was like some weird version of Elizabeth, right?”
My stomach churns, the wine suddenly not sitting well. “Uh…I don’t know if that’s an interesting story…”
Krista’s eyes go wide as she looks between her friends. “You wouldn’tbelievethis woman. She was some kind of psychic or something. And when she touched my hand, she got a psychic vision.”
“Ooh!” Becky clasps her hands together. “I love that stuff!”
Of course she does.
“What was the vision?” Malcolm asks.
Krista takes a sip from her own wineglass, which is nearly empty. “She said that Blake was going to stab me to death in the living room!”
Becky and Malcolm adopt equally stunned expressions. For Christ’s sake. It’s not like it actuallyhappened. It was just some nutjob spouting out nonsense.
“This woman wasnotmentally all there.” I scratch my forearm, which is suddenly much itchier. “I mean, she was wearing a tinfoil hat.”
“She was?” Krista frowns. “I don’t remember that. I thought she was very well dressed.”
Becky crosses her legs, leaning forward. “She saw it happening inyourliving room?”
“I think so,” Krista says. “She pointed to our floor when she said it.”
Becky clasps a hand over her mouth, looking at me with an expression of horror, like I’m standing over her best friend right this second with a bloody knife.
“That woman wasn’t a real psychic.” I grit my teeth. “You should have seen her. She was wearing, like, three robes, and she kept pouring salt everywhere.”
“Salt is important for warding off evil spirits,” Becky says sagely.
Is shekiddingme?
“Why are you so skeptical?” Becky levels her dark brown eyes at me. “Are you a Scorpio?”
“He is,” Krista confirms, nodding.
I glare at the two women, ready to stab both of them. (Not really.) “Look, I don’t care what some random woman told us. I’m not going to kill Krista, okay? Do I lookunhingedto you?”
