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Authors: Steve Demaree
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wasn't prepared for the shriek
of laughter that emerged from Hazel Portwood. I held on to the couch arm to
keep from sliding the rest of the way to the floor.
"That tightwad wouldn't give
us a dime."
"The way I heard it he wanted
to give you more than that. He wanted to leave you each a dollar in his
will."
"That sounds like him. I hope
he croaks soon."
"I'm afraid he has already
croaked."
"He looked fine on Saturday.
Well, I mean as good as he can look. He didn't exactly get the looks in the
family."
To my way of thinking that meant
there were other family members I hadn't met, because I figured Portwood looked
as good dead as his brother and sister looked alive. But instead of commenting
I gave her an update on her brother.
"He didn't look as good on
Sunday."
"You mean he's dead?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Archie, can you call in sick
tonight. I'm thinking about throwing a party."
"I can see how broken up the
two of you are."
"Did he leave us
anything?"
"Will that determine how big
of a party you'll throw?"
"No, it'll just be me and
Hazel, " Archie said, getting excited.
"I think I'll leave it up to
the lawyer to let you know whether or not he left you something. He might call
you about the reading of the will."
"You ain't here expecting us
to pony up for the funeral, are you? He had enough money to take care of that,
and a whole lot more."
"I think the funeral is taken
care of, and you can check if you are interested in attending the
funeral."
"What do you think, Hazel?
Should we go to the funeral and look at him dead?"
"No. He probably told them to
fix him so that he'd be sticking his tongue out."
I decided to interrupt the two
siblings fond memories of their dearly departed brother.
"Aren't you even curious as
to when he died, or how?"
"Not really, but you can tell
us. I guess that's why you came. Besides, you already said it was Sunday."
"No, he died Saturday. At the
Book Fair. He was poisoned. And you already admitted you were there."
"Hey, now, I didn't put
nothing on that sandwich. I wanted to, but I didn't. I thought about spitting
on it, but I didn't."
"And I didn't put nothing in
his water. Scout's honor," her brother chimed in.
"Were you ever a scout?"
"No, but I've heard people
say that."
"So, why are you here? You
don't think we had anything to do with it?"
"Money can do strange things
to people. Especially if they might inherit."
"Are you saying that scumbag,
I mean my brother, remembered us in his will?"
"Are you saying you don't
know?"
"How would we know?"
"Exactly. Sometimes people
who don't know kill someone anyway. Sort of taking a chance on fortune without
playing the lottery."
"We have witnesses that will
say we didn't do it."
"When didn't you do it?"
"Saturday. You said he was
killed on Saturday. We wasn't even there when he keeled over."
"The poison took a while to
kill him. He wasn't even there when he keeled over."
"See. That proves it. It
couldn't have been either of us."
"And why not? Somebody had to
do it."
"Yeah, but he got up and left
the table when he saw us coming."
"But he didn't take his food
with him."
"But we didn't touch it. I
already told you that."
"But maybe you followed him,
gave him something when you caught up with him."
"We didn't catch up with him.
He saw us. That was all we wanted. We even dumped the books we wanted him to
think we was buying on another table. We wanted him to think we was buying
everyone's books but his. And like I said, we wasn't there when he died. And
when we got home the neighbors invited us over to a cookout. Hot dogs, baked
beans, potato salad, cole slaw, potato chips."
"Thanks for sharing your menu
with us. I'm envious. We had to go to Serafini's instead."
"Bet we had more fun!"
"Let me share something that
I learned from my many years of investigating murders. It doesn't matter when
you put the poison in the food or the drink. It won't kill them until they
ingest it."
"And I
of laughter that emerged from Hazel Portwood. I held on to the couch arm to
keep from sliding the rest of the way to the floor.
"That tightwad wouldn't give
us a dime."
"The way I heard it he wanted
to give you more than that. He wanted to leave you each a dollar in his
will."
"That sounds like him. I hope
he croaks soon."
"I'm afraid he has already
croaked."
"He looked fine on Saturday.
Well, I mean as good as he can look. He didn't exactly get the looks in the
family."
To my way of thinking that meant
there were other family members I hadn't met, because I figured Portwood looked
as good dead as his brother and sister looked alive. But instead of commenting
I gave her an update on her brother.
"He didn't look as good on
Sunday."
"You mean he's dead?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
"Archie, can you call in sick
tonight. I'm thinking about throwing a party."
"I can see how broken up the
two of you are."
"Did he leave us
anything?"
"Will that determine how big
of a party you'll throw?"
"No, it'll just be me and
Hazel, " Archie said, getting excited.
"I think I'll leave it up to
the lawyer to let you know whether or not he left you something. He might call
you about the reading of the will."
"You ain't here expecting us
to pony up for the funeral, are you? He had enough money to take care of that,
and a whole lot more."
"I think the funeral is taken
care of, and you can check if you are interested in attending the
funeral."
"What do you think, Hazel?
Should we go to the funeral and look at him dead?"
"No. He probably told them to
fix him so that he'd be sticking his tongue out."
I decided to interrupt the two
siblings fond memories of their dearly departed brother.
"Aren't you even curious as
to when he died, or how?"
"Not really, but you can tell
us. I guess that's why you came. Besides, you already said it was Sunday."
"No, he died Saturday. At the
Book Fair. He was poisoned. And you already admitted you were there."
"Hey, now, I didn't put
nothing on that sandwich. I wanted to, but I didn't. I thought about spitting
on it, but I didn't."
"And I didn't put nothing in
his water. Scout's honor," her brother chimed in.
"Were you ever a scout?"
"No, but I've heard people
say that."
"So, why are you here? You
don't think we had anything to do with it?"
"Money can do strange things
to people. Especially if they might inherit."
"Are you saying that scumbag,
I mean my brother, remembered us in his will?"
"Are you saying you don't
know?"
"How would we know?"
"Exactly. Sometimes people
who don't know kill someone anyway. Sort of taking a chance on fortune without
playing the lottery."
"We have witnesses that will
say we didn't do it."
"When didn't you do it?"
"Saturday. You said he was
killed on Saturday. We wasn't even there when he keeled over."
"The poison took a while to
kill him. He wasn't even there when he keeled over."
"See. That proves it. It
couldn't have been either of us."
"And why not? Somebody had to
do it."
"Yeah, but he got up and left
the table when he saw us coming."
"But he didn't take his food
with him."
"But we didn't touch it. I
already told you that."
"But maybe you followed him,
gave him something when you caught up with him."
"We didn't catch up with him.
He saw us. That was all we wanted. We even dumped the books we wanted him to
think we was buying on another table. We wanted him to think we was buying
everyone's books but his. And like I said, we wasn't there when he died. And
when we got home the neighbors invited us over to a cookout. Hot dogs, baked
beans, potato salad, cole slaw, potato chips."
"Thanks for sharing your menu
with us. I'm envious. We had to go to Serafini's instead."
"Bet we had more fun!"
"Let me share something that
I learned from my many years of investigating murders. It doesn't matter when
you put the poison in the food or the drink. It won't kill them until they
ingest it."
"And I
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