by Guy Belleranti
This story was originally published by Raven Electrick in January of 2003.
Edie Cunningham left Sarah Bracey’s house the same way she’d come, by an unlocked back window.
Got to get away from here, Edie thought, ripping the rubber gloves from her hands, and stuffing them beside the small flashlight in the hip pocket of her jeans. Got to get far away from Sarah’s dead body on the study floor.
She’d only meant to throw a scare into Sarah … mess Sarah’s place up a bit while she was at work to pay her back for stealing Doug.
But Sarah hadn’t been at work. Or at least not at work waiting tables at the restaurant. Edie learned this when she’d slipped inside, started down the short hall, and heard Sarah talking.
She’d frozen in place in the hallway, froze right outside the opening to Sarah’s study. For Sarah was home, hunched before her computer, talking fast and emotionally to herself, stewing over some point in her latest stupid unpublishable mystery novel. Talking to herself … crazy!
Then, suddenly, Sarah had swung around, aware she wasn’t alone. She’d risen from her chair, croaked out Edie’s name and came at her, demanding to know how she’d gotten inside, yelling she was going to phone the cops.
And Edie had snapped. She’d cursed Sarah for taking Doug away from her, then grabbed the smaller woman and shoved her, smashing her head against the corner of a file cabinet.
“I didn’t mean to kill her,” Edie muttered, as she walked quickly, putting distance between herself and Sarah’s house, keeping her head hidden in her hoodie. But kill her she had. Sarah hadn’t any pulse and had no longer been breathing.
Edie whipped out her keys as she reached the curb where she’d left her car. She jammed the flashlight and gloves into the glove compartment and started the engine.
She merged in with the sparse night traffic, breathing easier at last. Was there anything she’d overlooked? Would she be a suspect? No, how could she be? She’d been extra careful. The police would just think it was a burglary gone bad.
Except nothing had been taken. She’d pulled no drawers out, hadn’t disturbed any of Sarah’s belongings.
Oh dear.
What would Sarah the rotten mystery writer do? What direction would a police investigation take in one of her crummy books?
Of course! The husband or the boyfriend. Doug. His fingerprints had to be all over Sarah’s place, and he had a police record for several drunk and disorderly conduct arrests.
Now she just had to be patient and wait for Sarah to be found, for the investigation to lead to Doug.
#
Doug called her the next afternoon.
“Edie? Oh, Edie, thank God you answered. I need your help.”
Edie’s heart thumped, forgetting at first how much she hated him for dumping her for Sarah. Then she remembered, and the bile rose in her throat. He’d said she was too clinging, had called her a crazy control freak. Crazy? Ha! He should’ve heard Sarah ranting away while she wrote. Then he’d know who was crazy.
“The police,” Doug went on. “They’ve got me down at Center Street station and… Oh God, I think they’re planning to arrest me.”
“Why don’t you call Sarah?” Edie asked acidly, a cruel smile twisting her lips.
“She’s … she’s dead. Someone broke into her house last night and… Oh, I can’t believe this. The police think I… They think it was me.”
It took all of Edie’s self-control to keep from laughing. “Was it?”
“What? My God, Edie. I thought you’d support me. I thought despite everything… We go back a long way. I thought you’d vouch for me. Couldn’t you at least come down and— Oh, I’ve got to go. But please- just come.” He hung up.
#
Doug’s words repeated in her head as she drove. He needed her now, had come to his senses and seen at last she was the only woman for him.
“You shouldn’t have dumped me for Sarah, Doug,” she muttered. Yes, she was responding to his call, and yes, she would put on a good little show of sympathy, but inside she was gloating.
#
I’m Detective Cassidy, ma’am,” a broad-shouldered, graying man greeted. “And this”, he nodded at an attractive black woman, “is Detective Williams.”
Edie followed both through the noisy squad room. So Doug was locked in one of the cells here. Good!
“In here, please.” Detective Williams indicated a small room containing three straight-back chairs and a small table.
Edie looked around. “Is Doug here, or—”
“Oh we’ve had to let him go, Ms. Cunningham. Just after he called you.”
“What do you mean? What—”
“We found some new evidence – interesting evidence,” Detective Cassidy said. His tone turned grim. “And as a result, Edie Cunningham, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Sarah Bracey. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to…”
Edie’s mouth opened, then closed as she listened numbly. “This is Doug’s doing, isn’t it?” she whispered when he’d finished. “He made up lies, told you things…” She broke off, seething.
“No, Ms. Cunningham,” said Detective Williams, “he didn’t have to tell us anything. You and Sarah Bracey told us everything we need to know.”
“Me? Sarah?” For the first time Edie noticed a small item on the table, an item that looked a little like a cell phone.
Cassidy picked it up. “Sarah Bracey had this on her desk. He pressed a button and suddenly voices came out at them. Sarah, agonizing over her mystery plot, and then suddenly breaking off and calling Edie by name. Edie replying, cursing, a scuffling sound…
“Where’d you get that?” Edie screamed.
“It’s a digital voice recorder,” Detective Williams said. “Sarah Bracey had it on her desk. Apparently she spoke some of her thoughts whenever she wrote so she wouldn’t overlook anything, so she’d get things down clearly. And this time … she got things very clear, don’t you agree?”
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