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

come in here and exchange it with the correct one. I knew where you girls keep them, because as you guessed, I’ve been in here before.”

“You left the note?”

“Yes. With you hanging out with your FBI agent, you got me worried. I thought I’d throw in a little assurance to keep your nose out of the investigation. I wasn’t worried about the police—they’d never suspect the little old lady to kill a man.”

“You’re quite sneaky,” I said. “You manipulated everyone close to Charles. You made everyone look guilty… but you.”

“I did,” Mrs. Wilson said. “I thought they’d pin it on Wayne or Claudia for sure. Those two had the most to gain, but I also needed to throw Karen into the mix. She’s weak and an easy target. I typed up that will, hoping the police would find it.”

“They didn’t. But my friends and I did.”

“Yes,” she replied with a sigh. “The police weren’t too bright either, were they?”

I shook my head as she came around the side of the coffee table, pinning me against the wall and the couch. She pulled her hand from behind her back to reveal a knife.

“You got in over your head, Patty. I’m sorry I have to do this. I do like you and Donna, despite her being a drunk harlot. I’ll miss our chats.”

“The cops are on their way!” I blurted. “They’ll be here any minute! They know everything!”

“No, they don’t. They know conjecture from a stupid stew. They have no proof. When they arrive, I’ll be the grieving widow scared out of my mind that another one of my neighbors has been killed. Who do you think they’re going to believe? The sweet old lady, or the young, dumb stewardess?”

That was the second—or maybe third?— time she’d called me dumb, and frankly I was tired of it. I’d proved just how smart I was… I’d solved a murder.

Yet, as she drew closer, I debated what to use as a weapon. There was no way for me to move fast enough between the couch and the coffee table. I’d fall for sure and give her an easy target to slam the knife. Hit her over the head with the lamp? I’d have to unplug it.

But then an idea came to me. Before I could fully think it through, I grabbed the crutch leaning in the corner and, with a scream, raised it over my head and slammed it over hers. That bought me enough time to race for the front door as she dropped the knife and slowly sank to the floor.

When I opened the door, I ran into the chest of Detective Peterson.

“Patty?” he said, grabbing my shoulders.

The fear I’d experienced oozed out of me in sobs. My knees weakened as I pointed over my shoulder. “M-Mrs. Wilson,” I stuttered. “She just confessed everything to me. S-she tried to kill me. With a knife.”

Detective Peterson’s eyes widened as he propped me up against the wall. “Stay out here.”

I sank to the floor and held my head in my trembling hands as the tears kept coming. After a moment, I glanced around the corner into my apartment. Detective Peterson was helping Mrs. Wilson to her feet. She wobbled as she grabbed her head, the knife still visible on the floor.

“What is going on?” she asked. “Do you see what that girl did to me?”

“You’re under arrest, ma’am,” Peterson said.

“For what? For being beaten with a crutch?”

“For murder.”

Mrs. Wilson turned a shade of red I’d never seen before and began to scream. I placed my hands over my ears, the sound resembling something I imagined Satan emitting—high pitched, guttural, and straight from a black, decrepit soul.

As he walked her out, the neighbors who lived on the other side me, Rainbow and Dusk, opened their door.

“What’s going on, Patty?” Rainbow asked, crouching down next to me. Thankfully, she was clothed. Her bright, beautiful face pinched with worry, and next to Mrs. Wilson, she reminded me of an angel from heaven.

“Mrs. Wilson killed Charles,” I whispered as I wiped my cheeks. “Then she tried to kill me.”

“Oh, my. Is Donna home?”

I shook my head.

“Come inside with me,” Rainbow said. “I’ll fix you some tea to calm your nerves.”

After allowing her to help me stand, I followed her inside the apartment, relieved that the murder was finally solved.

And I’d done it. Alone.

The stupid stew had solved the murder.

Look out, FBI. I’m coming.

Epilogue

Donna arrived home later that night. Frankly, I was surprised when I discovered she was mostly sober. I sipped on my third cup of tea, waiting for the brew Rainbow had provided to calm my nerves. I hadn’t asked what was in it, but she assured me it would work. I just didn’t know how much more I could drink.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, flopping down on the sofa next to me. “I’m so exhausted and my feet are killing me. I hope they allow us to wear flat shoes the next time they update the uniforms.”

“Mrs. Wilson killed Charles.”

With a gasp, she sat up and turned toward me. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I figured it out and she came after me with a knife. She admitted it all.”

“Oh, my goodness,” she whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth. “Are you okay?”

I had to consider the question for a moment. Having my life threatened and finding out I’d shared tea and wine with a killer had rattled me emotionally, but physically, I was fine. “Yes,” I finally answered.

“Tell me everything.”

As I recounted the whole ordeal, Donna stared at me wide-eyed.

“Unbelievable,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I never would have guessed Mrs. Wilson in a hundred years.”

“I know. But we have other things to talk about, Donna.”

“We do?”

“Yes. I wanted to discuss your drinking.”

She rolled her eyes and sat back on the couch. “I don’t.”

The phone rang, and I muttered a curse as I stood to answer it. “Hello?”

“Is this Patty or Donna?”

“This is Patty. Who is speaking, please?”

“It’s Linda Davenport, Patty.”

I glanced over my