The Demise by Diane Moody

Author:Diane Moody [Moody, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian Books & Bibles, Literature & Fiction, Mystery & Suspense, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Crime, Crime Fiction, Religion & Spirituality, Christian Fiction
Amazon: B00MNQH5UC
Publisher: OBT Bookz
Published: 2014-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Hours rolled by as Donella continued her long, emotional purge about life, the office, Peter Lanham, and his manipulative, despicable wife. At one point, Donella fell asleep mid-sentence. Julie covered her with a lightweight throw and hoped she’d sleep off the rest of the alcohol in her system. She took the opportunity to rummage around the kitchen to find something hearty to make for a late dinner. In the freezer compartment, she found a stack of Marie Callendar’s Chicken Pot Pies—the supreme comfort food if ever there was one. She popped a couple of them in the oven, opting not to look at the caloric value of the flaky pies. Sometimes things like that are best not known.

While they cooked, she prepared a salad of fresh greens, sliced strawberries, a handful of pecans, and some red onion drizzled with poppyseed salad dressing. Last, she brewed a pot of coffee, assuming that’s what one drinks after one has consumed vast quantities of adult beverages.

As she waited for the oven timer to go off, she checked her cell phone and found two missed calls and another text message from Matt: I’m starting to worry. Everything okay?

Julie hesitated. Memories of their previous scuffles flashed through her mind. On the one hand, she couldn’t wait to tell him everything she’d learned. On the other hand, she realized she’d risk losing whatever chance there’d been for a relationship with him.

Still, he needs to know, right? To keep such valuable information to myself would be, in essence, the same as withholding information, wouldn’t it?

Maybe she should ask Donella if she’d be willing to talk to Matt. That way, he’d get the information firsthand. Then again, what are the chances of Donella letting down her guard like that, especially in front of a stranger? Maybe she should whip up another batch of margaritas to keep her talking and invite Matt to stop by. No, she could never do such a heartless thing, taking advantage of Donella’s drunken stupor. Especially since Donella considers me her only friend.

Julie was still debating the subject when the timer went off. She put a steaming pie on each plate alongside a serving of salad, then set the plates on the table. “Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” she mused as she headed back down the hall.

Tapping her on the shoulder, Donella startled, looking around until she noticed Julie sitting before her. Her eyes rolled as she fought to keep them open. “She told me once she wished he would die.”

An alarm went off somewhere inside Julie’s head. “What? Who told you—”

Her heavy eyelids closed again, but she continued. “Patricia.”

“When did she say that?”

“Huh?”

“Donella, when did Patricia say that? Was she talking about Peter?”

“Yes.” Her head rolled to the other side. “When she came here.”

“But when? When was that?”

“When she brought the checkbook . . . when she came that night, she was so . . . angry at him . . . pitiful.”

“Pitiful? What do you mean?”

Her head rolled back to face Julie.

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