Hemlock by Susan Wittig Albert

Author:Susan Wittig Albert [Albert, Susan Wittig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Persevero Press
Published: 2021-04-01T22:00:00+00:00

• • •

Chief Curtis had told me to stop by the police station and make my witness statement. This was easier said than done, as it turned out.

There were two desks in the main reception area, one of them empty. I dutifully reported at the other, behind which sat a harassed young female officer, neat and trim in a crisply pressed tan uniform. She was doing her level best to field a barrage of incoming calls about the shooting at the Open Book. Jed Conway was obviously a popular member of the Bethany community. Word was getting around fast.

In a brief interval between calls, I managed to get the officer’s attention long enough to tell her that I was the one who had found Mr. Conway and that I was there, at Chief Curtis’ instruction, to leave my statement. Could somebody help me, please?

The phone rang again. “An officer will be with you in a few minutes,” she said breathlessly. “Just have a seat.”

Cops came and cops went, all of them in a hurry. After three or four had cruised into the reception area and cruised out again, I got out of my chair and accosted one.

“Excuse me. Chief Curtis told me to come here and make a statement about—”

“Sorry,” he said brusquely. “Can’t help. I’ll see if I can find somebody. Have a seat.”

Ten minutes later, tired of sitting and with plenty of other things on my to-do list, I took the matter into my own hands. On the empty desk was a typewriter, an old but absolutely gorgeous blue IBM Selectric, which you hardly ever see now that the world is completely computer-driven. I went to the desk, sat down, took a clean sheet of paper out of the top desk drawer, rolled it into the machine, and began to type.

The officer at the other desk glanced over at me, did a double-take, opened her mouth, and started to say something. But her phone rang again and she closed her mouth and rolled her eyes as she reached for it. I gave her a sympathetic smile and a quick thumbs-up to show her that I was on the level and had only the best intentions and kept on typing while more cops came and more cops went, paying me no never-mind. A woman at a typewriter. In a man’s world, what’s so unusual about that?

At the end of ten minutes, I was finished with my statement. I hadn’t mentioned Conway’s whispered word when I talked to the chief and I didn’t mention it now—a lie by omission I hoped I wouldn’t regret. I had not mentioned the Hemlock House minivan parked just down the street, either.

Otherwise, I was as truthful as I knew how to be. I included everything I could remember, except Socrates.com, which would have required a much longer explanation than I was able to offer at the moment. When I finished, I was left with only questions.

Who? Who had tried to kill Jed Conway? Why?

And why “Black .

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