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“Confound it, it's foolish, Tom”
Please Contact Us. Your Cart Your cart is empty. Biography True Stories. Batteries Calculators Office Machines. Frame Tray Boxed Wooden Floor. I wanted to hug her, but I didn't want to spook her. At the same time, my sixth sense stirred again. Something was off about this account. Perhaps the father had indeed done something terrible to Cipriona, and she didn't want that to be known.
No parent should betray a child like that. Cipriona shrugged. But that's in the past. I've got a life now, and I need to help my granny. I couldn't tell the cops what he'd done to me, not if I wanted to hold my head up in this town. Granny paid the price for my pride. Get Damond talking. See if he'll brag about other crimes, or killing my mama, so we can prove Granny did humanity a favor and that he wasn't the upstanding citizen his lawyer said. My teeth ground together at the way her voice broke. Her last words rang true and convinced me she needed an advocate and possibly a miracle or two.
The Methods Man: Confound It! | Medpage Today
My palms tingled as I stared at the suspenders on the table. I'd made arrangements for Larissa, I'd heard the client speak the truth about her plight, but something in the air besides the musty spices around the woman's neck made me hesitate. I wished my medium friend was here instead of visiting his daughter in Florida. It would be nice to have the extrasensory backup. Had to be. With company coming later today, I couldn't afford to dither, so I set aside my misgivings, reached for the suspenders, and opened my senses.
After crossing the veil of life so many times, I knew what to expect. The weightlessness. The feeling of falling. The unrelenting darkness.
The numbing cold. Dreamwalking was no picnic, and this journey into the afterlife proceeded as expected. Once I reached the spinning stage, I righted myself until my feet touched down again. Not my actual feet. In this other realm, I'm in spirit form only. Gradually the fog thinned, and I found myself outside a bar. The dim light over the door illuminated a painted sign, Low Spirits Bar.
There was nothing else in the murk, no wandering bad-boy spirits, no guardian angel, no nothing. Which meant Damond Marsden was inside or he wanted me to see this place. His voice sounded slurred, as if he'd been actually drinking. How was that possible? I'm a Dreamwalker. Your daughter asked me to find you.
I stopped short at the half-truth ringing in his words. What part was truthful? The not-trusting part or the witch part? What if I'm sitting here waiting for her to join me in this hell? What if I want to scare the shit out of my own flesh and blood? I gulped, or what passed for a gulp in spirit form. You can look like yourself at any point in your life. The spotlight winked on again. I braced for gruesomeness, but I saw a kaleidoscope of faces. Damond the man grinned at me, Damond the handsome young adult winked at me, Damond the teen pointed pistol fingers at me, and Damond the little boy looked like he needed a hug.
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Two young kids tried to catch me as I arrived, but when I turned around the girl screamed until she thinned out to nothing. The guy followed her. After that I kept to myself. Your mom's sitting in prison because of shooting you. Your daughter wants to help her. She wants you to help spring your mother. He had a one-track mind. I had a sinking feeling I was wasting my time. But I had to try, for Cipriona's sake.
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Is there anything that will support that claim? Or are there other crimes you'd confess to that might help your mother get a reduced sentence? She saw you beat your wife. Cipriona said she tried to stop you but you hurt her and then killed her mother in front of her. Not this again. He was talking to me, but his answers didn't go anywhere. Know where I can find something that belonged to her?
- Peg Leg Gus!
- Hunky-Dory Murder!
The malevolent look had me glancing down to make sure he hadn't seared a hole through my body.