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Authors: Maddy Hunter
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Margi.
“You are Bernice Zwerg,” Rajanen said, reopening his notepad and making a notation as he read her name tag. “Would you tell me where were you this evening between twenty-one hundred hours and the present?”
“You’ve got me all wrong,” Bernice protested in a minor panic. “What could I do to make someone sorry? I’m old. I’m forgetful. I’ve got an arthritic back and bunions.”
“I’ll tell you how forgetful she is,” Nana said helpfully. “She can’t even remember that she had them bunions out last year.”
Officer Rajanen grew ominously quiet. “Forgive me for asking again, Ms. Zwerg. Where were you—”
“I was in my room! That woman upset me so much, I went into seclusion.”
“Can you provide a witness who will testify that you were in your room at the time Ms. Van Cleef was murdered?”
Bernice gave him a hard look. “If someone had been in the room with me, I wouldn’t have been in seclusion, would I?”
Rajanen returned the look. “No, but at least you would have someone to verify your alibi.” He stowed his notepad in his shirt pocket. “Would you mind coming with me, Ms. Zwerg?”
He was taking Bernice in for questioning? This wasn’t good. My escort’s manual didn’t have a section covering incarceration etiquette! I stood up in protest. “You can’t take her to jail, Officer. Bernice isn’t capable of committing murder. Ask anyone.” I prodded my group to back me up.
“Killing’s not Bernice’s style,” agreed Dick Teig. “She’d rather grate on your nerves ’til you feel like killing yourself.”
“Or cheat you,” said Grace.
“Or insult you,” added Margi.
“Or talk about you behind your back,” said Lucille.
“Or lie about something she’s dumping on eBay,” said Dick Stolee.
“Wouldn’t that go under cheating?” asked Margi.
“You hear that?” Bernice pleaded with Rajanen. “These people are my friends. They know me. You’ve gotta believe them.”
Rajanen motioned her to stand up. Dick Teig hitthe Record button on his camcorder. “Here’s Bernice, getting her ass hauled off to jail.”
I looked on futilely, unable to think of anything that would save her butt.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!” Bernice cried as Rajanen escorted her away. “It wasn’t me. It was the author!”
Blame someone else! That might work. But how did she know about Jackie’s run-in with Portia? She hadn’t even been there!
“She’s got a point,” said Lauretta Klick. “We all heard Jackie Thum threaten Portia.”
“I had to cover my ears,” said Curtis. “If she uses language like that in her book, I’m not reading it.”
Officer Rajanen paused. “This is true?”
“I saw the whole thing,” said June.
“So did I,” said April. “Jackie was so mad at Portia that she swore to get even.”
“She didn’t swear,” corrected Joleen. “She ‘promised.’”
“I thought she said ‘vowed,’” said Vern. “Seems to me an author might come up with a punchier verb than ‘promised.’”
“The verb was irrelevant,” said June. “The critical point, Officer, is that not only did Jackie Thum bear a grudge against Portia, she’s physically capable of carrying out a vendetta because she’s eight feet tall.”
Rajanen looked out over the group, obviously trying to spot our resident giant. “Is Ms. Thum here?”
“Excuse me, Officer,” Annika spoke up, “but I mentioned to you before that I was unable to locate Ms. Thum.”
“Aha!” chortled June. “That should tell you something.”
“She’s guilty as sin,” Lauretta accused.
“Probably skipped town,” said Reno.
“Or went on a killing rampage and murdered more people,” Bernice offered happily.
“Or had a late dinner!” I shouted to be heard above the escalating rumble of voices. “What is wrong with you people? Whatever happened to the concept of a person being innocent until proven guilty? Did you toss it out the window when you crossed the
“You are Bernice Zwerg,” Rajanen said, reopening his notepad and making a notation as he read her name tag. “Would you tell me where were you this evening between twenty-one hundred hours and the present?”
“You’ve got me all wrong,” Bernice protested in a minor panic. “What could I do to make someone sorry? I’m old. I’m forgetful. I’ve got an arthritic back and bunions.”
“I’ll tell you how forgetful she is,” Nana said helpfully. “She can’t even remember that she had them bunions out last year.”
Officer Rajanen grew ominously quiet. “Forgive me for asking again, Ms. Zwerg. Where were you—”
“I was in my room! That woman upset me so much, I went into seclusion.”
“Can you provide a witness who will testify that you were in your room at the time Ms. Van Cleef was murdered?”
Bernice gave him a hard look. “If someone had been in the room with me, I wouldn’t have been in seclusion, would I?”
Rajanen returned the look. “No, but at least you would have someone to verify your alibi.” He stowed his notepad in his shirt pocket. “Would you mind coming with me, Ms. Zwerg?”
He was taking Bernice in for questioning? This wasn’t good. My escort’s manual didn’t have a section covering incarceration etiquette! I stood up in protest. “You can’t take her to jail, Officer. Bernice isn’t capable of committing murder. Ask anyone.” I prodded my group to back me up.
“Killing’s not Bernice’s style,” agreed Dick Teig. “She’d rather grate on your nerves ’til you feel like killing yourself.”
“Or cheat you,” said Grace.
“Or insult you,” added Margi.
“Or talk about you behind your back,” said Lucille.
“Or lie about something she’s dumping on eBay,” said Dick Stolee.
“Wouldn’t that go under cheating?” asked Margi.
“You hear that?” Bernice pleaded with Rajanen. “These people are my friends. They know me. You’ve gotta believe them.”
Rajanen motioned her to stand up. Dick Teig hitthe Record button on his camcorder. “Here’s Bernice, getting her ass hauled off to jail.”
I looked on futilely, unable to think of anything that would save her butt.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!” Bernice cried as Rajanen escorted her away. “It wasn’t me. It was the author!”
Blame someone else! That might work. But how did she know about Jackie’s run-in with Portia? She hadn’t even been there!
“She’s got a point,” said Lauretta Klick. “We all heard Jackie Thum threaten Portia.”
“I had to cover my ears,” said Curtis. “If she uses language like that in her book, I’m not reading it.”
Officer Rajanen paused. “This is true?”
“I saw the whole thing,” said June.
“So did I,” said April. “Jackie was so mad at Portia that she swore to get even.”
“She didn’t swear,” corrected Joleen. “She ‘promised.’”
“I thought she said ‘vowed,’” said Vern. “Seems to me an author might come up with a punchier verb than ‘promised.’”
“The verb was irrelevant,” said June. “The critical point, Officer, is that not only did Jackie Thum bear a grudge against Portia, she’s physically capable of carrying out a vendetta because she’s eight feet tall.”
Rajanen looked out over the group, obviously trying to spot our resident giant. “Is Ms. Thum here?”
“Excuse me, Officer,” Annika spoke up, “but I mentioned to you before that I was unable to locate Ms. Thum.”
“Aha!” chortled June. “That should tell you something.”
“She’s guilty as sin,” Lauretta accused.
“Probably skipped town,” said Reno.
“Or went on a killing rampage and murdered more people,” Bernice offered happily.
“Or had a late dinner!” I shouted to be heard above the escalating rumble of voices. “What is wrong with you people? Whatever happened to the concept of a person being innocent until proven guilty? Did you toss it out the window when you crossed the
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