Bake Me a Murder
“With a slippery grip on my gun, I searched for her phone. My eyes darted everywhere but it was nowhere in sight. Thursday, 11:45 p.m.“Police. Open up.” The pounding grew louder.I made a beeline for the front door and flung it open. A pair of uniformed cops stood, ready for action, guns drawn.The uniformed cop’s eyes took in my bloody clothes and my gun. The older of the two, voice calm, said, “Put the gun down, Ma’am.” Lowering my weapon onto the floor, I propped myself up against the hallway w...all. “Yolanda’s dead. In the kitchen.” I couldn’t say anything else at that moment, being too occupied with not vomiting.The younger cop dashed past me, in search of the body. He yelled back to his partner. “Possible homicide. Call an ambulance.” My next words didn’t help alleviate the older cop’s suspicions. “The killer escaped through the side door.” The older cop squinted, his gun on me. “And you just happened to be here when the victim was shot?” He grabbed his handcuffs.MoreLess
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