Page 104 of Unalive On Air

“Uh . . .” Is he for real? “Because . . . you’re facing the wrong way?”

Magnus spins around, and my eyes are immediately drawn downwards. “Ah, yes. That’s much better, actually. How can I help?”

“Well, I . . . um, I . . . what I . . .” But he’s so naked, and things are flapping in the sea breeze. It’s very difficult to remember why I even came out here.

“Can you stop staring at my willy?”

“I’m so sorry.” I place my palm in front of my face, but it seems that whichever way I hold it, the flapping is still visible.

“Would it help if I put some clothes on?” he finally says with a huff.

“Yes, please. If you can.”

“What century would you like?” he asks. “For my attire . . .”

“Whatever you feel most comfortable in,” I reply.

“Thank you for asking. Nobody ever asks. I’m rather fond of the Jacobean period myself.” A moment later Magnus is standing in front of me in some kind of floral fitted shirt, balloon-type pantaloons, tights, buckled heels, a one-shouldered cape, and a thin, whippy walking stick. Soooooo much more distracting than the tallywhacker being out on display.

“Thanks? I like your shirt thing. Doublet.” Wow, that word just popped into my head from nowhere, almost as though it was placed there.

Magnus swishes left and right, showing his clothes off from different angles. “So?”

“So?”

“What have you come here to ask me? You only have a certain number of questions.”

“Oh, right.” I want to ask how many questions I have, but I don’t want to waste any by asking that.

“One thousand!” he announces.

“One thousand questions?” Damn, I didn’t mean to do that.

“Nine hundred and ninety-nine now.”

Okay, I can see why Trystan and the gang don’t like him hanging around with them too often.

“What’s your second question?” he asks.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Magnus Enys Marow. I’m a Sagittarius. I enjoy taking long walks on the beach, blackberry picking, and pumpkin spice lattes. My hobbies include astrology and tropical cyclones.”

Inwardly, I puff out a very lengthy sigh.

“What do you know about the murders that have been happening in The Paragon over the past forty years? Who’s doing them?”

“Two questions. Bold. I know everything about anything.”

“So, who’s the killer? Is it you?”

Magnus puts a hand to his chest. “Fucking ouch. That’s not very nice. No, it’s not me, but I know who it is.”

“Who, then?”

He rolls his eyes and dramatically raises his arms. “Oh, come on, Gary. You already know. Nine hundred and ninety-two questions left.”

I do? “There were disembodied legs found in the hotel’s pool. Who did they belong to?”