I’ve done bad things in my life. Not serial killer bad, but my entry into heaven is by no means guaranteed. My father died last night. Murdered. I hadn’t spoken to the man for twelve years. But thirteen years ago, I did threaten to kill him.
For the record, I had nothing to do with it.
This morning, a trio of officers arrived on my doorstep. One lamented my loss; one asked if I would mind speaking to a detective at the station; and the last one remained silent, his thoughtful gaze darting across the detritus of my apartment, dallying on the knives in my butcher block, perusing the titles in my bookshelf, lingering on my harp as if bemused.
The second officer cleared his throat and offered me a ride.
I glanced at the clock, lamented the time. “I was just on my way to my mother’s.”
He held open the door. “It’s important.”
Now, the hum of the air conditioner annoys me as I strain to hear beyond it. I’ve been in the interview room for nearly an hour. Initially, I paced the confines. Four steps of grimy linoleum separate the door from the dingy rear wall. Six steps mark the width. A plain table divides the room with two chairs in opposition.
The door is unlocked. I know because I tested it, nearly hitting an officer escorting a prisoner as he marched down the crowded hallway. I had considered leaving, but my mother would think this is more important than my visit to her. She respects the law.
I really enjoyed this story. Very clever and entertaining.
I really enjoyed this story. The pacing was spot-on and the ending was terrific! Well done, Micki!
Superbly plotted mystery, and I loved the musical references.
Thank you all for the kind words. They are more encouraging than you may realize.
"cloaked in black and providing nuance in quiet measure" is a perfect phrase.
I really enjoy stories that teach me new things. Well done!
An inspired powerhouse of a story. Life-like characters and strong dialogue make it a real pleasure.