The Reticence by Levi Fuller

The Reticence by Levi Fuller

Author:Levi Fuller [Fuller, Levi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Scallop Digital LLC
Published: 2021-01-25T22:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 5

Margo looked across the room, and a chill ran up her spine. The shotgun didn’t waver, which meant the woman knew what she was doing. She was no novice.

“If you don’t mind, could you point that in another direction?” Margo asked.

“You have maybe a minute before I shoot off one leg. That’s to keep you still till the sheriff gets here.”

“My name is Margo Fleming. My sister Marcia and I came to Havermill to investigate the murder of Mandy Salter. We have already talked to your husband, and I’m here to chat with you. We mean no harm. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. I’ll leave.”

“You talked to my husband?”

“That’s correct. You are married to Terry O’Brien, the volleyball coach, right?”

The woman nodded.

“I realize the murder is twenty years old. I’m sure it was upsetting then and might still be troubling for you today. I’m not here to accuse anyone. We’re only here to gather facts.”

A tear ran down the woman’s cheek. Margo noticed the redness around her hazel eyes as if she had been crying—for a long time. Taking a deep breath, Margo stepped forward, even as the woman began to shake. Afraid that she might accidentally fire in her distressed state, Margo gently grabbed the barrel and pushed it to the side.

“It’s all right,” Margo said. “Sometimes, memories are more powerful than the present. Let me take this.”

Margo pulled the shotgun away from the woman. Then, Margo broke open the single shot and removed the cartridge. She put the cartridge on the counter and snapped the barrel shut before leaning it against the wall.

“Now,” Margo said. “How about a cup of coffee. I don’t know about you, but I could certainly use one.”

The woman pointed to the coffee machine and the rack of pods to feed it.

“Decaf or high octane?” Margo asked.

“Octane,” the woman murmured in a low voice.

As Margo fixed the coffee, she could hear the woman whispering. When Margo turned, the woman hadn’t moved, still in her outdoor clothes. As Margo approached, she discovered that the woman was, in fact, praying.

“Here,” Margo said. “Let’s get you out of your winter stuff before you overheat.”

They spent the next minute removing her outer layers. A gray-haired, older woman, whose lined face and dull hair testified to a harsh life, was revealed. Margo knew that in the current world, wrinkles could be minimized, and hair could be enhanced. The woman’s hands were rough and raw, most likely from hard work. The woman wrapped her hands around her cup and nodded, whispering a prayer that Margo could not quite understand.

“First,” Margo said. “I want to apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you. I should have called ahead. But I just assumed your husband told you about us. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

The woman wiped away a tear and nodded. “I’m Donna Marie. I’m sorry about the gun. I don’t get many visitors.”

“No harm done. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you back twenty years, to when Mandy died.



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