Dearly Departed Carly Winter (ebook reader for pc TXT) 📖

apartment. The walls had been painted an eye-searing sunshine yellow, and I realized Karen didn't have a window to bring in any natural light. The unmade bed sat a few feet to my right with a table and lamp acting as illumination for both areas. Directly across from me stood the kitchen sink and short refrigerator, as well as a clothing rod that held hangers filled with dresses and pants. Her shoes were neatly lined up directly underneath. I assumed the curtain to the left of the sink led to the restroom area. And I had thought the apartment I shared with Donna was tiny. Overall, I found the place quite depressing and it became apparent Karen definitely had motive. If her living conditions were any indication, she was barely getting by.

“As I mentioned, we wanted to talk to you about Charles,” Beth said. “Have the police been around asking you about his death?”

“No. They called and said they would stop by, but they never did.”

My head snapped to her attention. “The police never came?”

Karen shrugged. “Not that I have much to add to the investigation. Charles was here one day and gone the next.”

“Were you two in love?” Donna asked.

“I thought we were,” Karen said. “But then I found the divorce papers he never signed last week while I was straightening up his place. They had fallen behind the dresser.”

“How did that make you feel?” I asked. “It must have been hard knowing your boyfriend was someone else's husband.”

“Oh, I was furious,” Karen said. “Raging mad. I felt betrayed and used.”

“Did he give you an explanation as to why he never divorced his wife?” I asked.

“He said that he'd forgotten about it,” she replied, shrugging.

“Forgotten about his divorce?” Donna asked incredulously. “That's ridiculous. No one forgets about a divorce.”

I had to disagree with Donna. Marriage may be at the forefront of her mind at all times, but it wasn't that way with everyone. Charles might have put his split with Claudia behind him and forgotten about the unsigned papers, especially if he was more focused on his mental state, or high from smoking his marijuana.

“Did you believe him?” Beth asked.

Karen sighed and rubbed her temples for a moment before speaking. “I loved Charles very much,” she said. “I can't tell you if I truly believed him or if I wanted to believe him. Do you know what I mean?”

Donna nodded and reached over to grab Karen's hand. “I do. Sometimes we want things to be true, so we overlook what's directly in front of us that would force us to see the lie we're living.”

I stared at my friend, surprised by her honesty. She spoke from the heart, from her own knowledge and mistakes.

“That's exactly right,” Karen said. “I couldn't have said it better myself.

“How did you two meet?” Donna asked. “Was it a random thing, or something really romantic?”

Karen’s eyes welled once again as she shrugged. “We met at the grocery store, if you can believe that. We were both looking at the lettuce. He asked me the best way to tell if the lettuce was fresh, or if it had been around for a while. The conversation came easy, and the next thing I knew, I was saying yes to a dinner date.”

“That’s definitely romantic,” Donna said, sighing. “That’s why I’m always on the lookout for my husband. I could meet him on the plane, or in the produce section. We just don’t know when we’re going to find the one for us, do we?”

Glancing over at Beth, I noticed her gaze had narrowed and doubt shone from her eyes. She wasn't buying Karen's and Donna's epiphany, and frankly, I wasn’t either. What was so romantic about lettuce?

Beth cleared her throat. “I find it odd the police haven't been here.”

Frankly, I did as well. Why hadn't they bothered to interview the girlfriend? She had as much motive as Claudia, and glancing around her sad apartment, perhaps even more so. Was it because they were so focused on the killer being a man?

Yes, Karen was small in stature and quiet in demeanor, but that didn't mean she couldn't kill, especially in a fit of rage. She'd fully admitted finding the divorce papers had greatly upset her.

“I don't have an answer to you on why they've never come, but I do need to get to work,” she said. “I wish you would've called.”

“Where do you work?” Beth asked.

“I'm a waitress at the burger joint up the street.”

“Oh! Is that the place with the cute pink uniforms?” Donna asked.

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Isn't that also the place where the waitresses aren't paid as much as the waiters?” Beth asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Karen said. “There's been quite a few protests in front the restaurant about it. A lot of the college girls come over and march.”

Beth rose to her feet. “Good for them. Women should be earning the same as men for the same work. It makes me furious that this is even an issue in today's society. We're still stuck in the forties and fifties.”

“A raise would definitely be nice,” Karen said. “So would a little time off to mourn Charles, but my boss already told me that isn't going to happen.”

Beth swore under her breath and shook her head. “Miserable, wretched men.”

“Not all men are horrible,” Donna said.

“Her boss is,” I replied. “Karen should be allowed to grieve.”

“I really need to go,” Karen said. “I'm going to be late.”

We said our goodbyes and left the sad building. The three of us didn't speak until we were back inside our apartment.

“So, what do you think?” Donna asked, stretching out on the couch like a lazy cat caught in a ray of sunshine.

“I think she's a great possibility,” Beth said. “The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced a woman did this.”

“Why?” I asked, pushing Donna's legs off the sofa so I could sit down.

“It just seems that's what makes sense to me,” Beth said. “You've got the wife and the girlfriend.”

“There's also Wayne,