CHAPTER 19 — Lady Stardust

Knock— Knock—

While Eppie practised her lines for the audition, Eric knocked on the shared door separating their rooms. With more curiosity than suspicion, she opened the door, wondering what Eric could possibly want at 8 PM.

“This came back.” Eric swung a clear IKEA zip-lock in her face. “Or did you forget?”

Eppie blinked, then realised that, indeed, she had forgotten about her phone.

Her lawyer peeked in, checking if there was anything he should be wary of, then asked for her permission to enter. She invited him in, and her deadpan Newfoundland sat down near the window, where there was a table with two tiny stools.

“So, the guy who you gave it to fix it promptly gave it a little snoop, as is tradition. He said it wasn’t broken, but stomped on with great diligence. Luckily, the chipset survived, as did the flash memory. The phone’s not THAT ancient, so he sourced some parts and managed to boot it up—” her lawyer paused. “Now, before we continue, as your lawyer, do you know what’s on this thing?”

Eppie shook her head. “I have no memory of this thing existing. That’s why I was kind of keen to know what’s on it.”

“Well, it’s not a bloody song, you can tell Mueller that,” Eric sighed. “The gentleman who snooped asked me if I wanted to refer this to the authorities, but I thought it might be best to run it by you first.”

“Whoa… hold up,” Eppie felt her heart seize. “Is it that serious?”

“Well, it’s not pleasant.”

Now her curiosity was burning even more. “Let’s hear it.”

“Will you be able to keep your cool for tomorrow’s performance?”

Jesus, just what is on this thing? “It’s not a video of me, is it? I recorded my own suicide?”

“No.” Eric puffed his cheeks in a sigh of relief. “It’s an audio recording. We don’t know who it is, but it’s someone close to you, obviously.”

“Just… give me the phone,” she reached for the phone, and Eric gave it. “Stop being so cryptic., I am plenty strong enough to listen to whatever.”

When she turned it on, she saw the four-digit login.

“Er… Eric?”

“It’s 0000.” Her lawyer pulled the corner of his mouth sideways. “Thankfully, whoever tried to smash your phone was a luddite. He or she had no idea how any of this works.”

The phone unlocked.
The wallpaper was a picture of herself and Simone Goode.

“Alright… how do I hear this recording?”

Eric raised a brow. “Missed calls, Messages.”

She scrolled to the missed calls section. There was an unknown caller with a long recorded message.

She looked at Eric.

The man nodded.

She held her breath, then pressed play.

“Eppie? Eppie—! It’s me. Listen. He knows! HE KNOWS—!”

The voice was frightfully emotive, and the emotions that permeated her speakerphone were in no way diminished by the rudimentary electronic system.

“He knows we have a recording… of what he did, what he did to me. O God. OH GOD. We lied to him. Eppie. We lied to his face! He’ll never let us go now. He won’t forgive us. He won’t stop at the cats this time. I can’t… I can’t. My mum and Dad have suffered enough. I can’t let them know about what happened. My Dad, it will break him. I… I am so sorry, Eppie. You shouldn’t have helped me. I am so sorry. I need to go now. I got—I got to go. I can’t tell you where, but I am so sorry that I am going to leave you to face this alone. I… I don’t know what else to do. I am sorry… I am sorry… I am so sorry, Eppie…”

The message stopped.

Eric studied her face.

Eppie blankly studied her stand-in father figure.

“So, do you—”
“WHAT THE FUCK was that?!” She said, throwing her hands up. “This is fucked up.”

“You don’t know who this is?” Eric’s face shared her disbelief. “Seriously? “

“No goddamn clue!” Eppie growled, then suddenly caught her phone. “Hold up—”

She navigated to her contact list.

Simone Goode.
Simone Goode.
Simone Goode.

Simone Goode.

Simone Goode.
Simone Goode.
Simone Goode.

Mio.

Simone Goode.

Mio.

Mio.

Simone Goode.

Simone Goode.

Mio.

Simone Goode.

Right. “I think it’s Luciana Mio. ‘Mio’ because it rolls off the tongue.”

“Who?” Eric looked around the room. “Is there a way to confirm this?”

“Of course. I know someone who knows her voice,” Eppie bit her lips. “Besides, this unknown number looks like a payphone. Probably from a gas station of some kind.”

Of all the idiosyncratic knowledge she had from the future, activists using SPAM calls from public phones was one she knew all too well. It wasn’t until Apple AI was good enough to filter those calls that she finally had respite.

“Jesus Christ, I think you’re right,” Eric moved back an inch to look at her in a new light. “So, an actor, singer, and now a detective?”

She curtsied.

“Okay, get serious.” Eric breathed out. “So let’s say this is the Mio you know. What now?”

“Well, before we decide,” Eppie bit her lips until her heart began to settle. “Let’s bring in a witness…”

Five minutes later, Armand Amar sat with eyes wide open, unable to speak.

“That’s Mio, right?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The boy stared at them both as though they were a pair of Djinns asking him for his first wish.

“Armand, focus.” Eppie reached out and touched the boy’s hand.

An electric current shot through Armand’s body. “Yeah—YES. Jesus Christ. Tell me this is an act. It’s for a play, right?”

“You know.” Eppie patted his hand, then turned to Eric. “That had never occurred to me.”

“I don’t think so.” Eric shook his head. “I am not a prosecutor, but I’ve done my due diligence as a student. I’ve… heard of this type of thing before.”

“Fuck.” Eppie buried her head in her hands. “Just so we’re on the first page. I’ve got amnesia from the incident. I don’t even know what she looks like. Armand, when did Mio disappear?”