Today it was a computer glitch slowing me down instead of the snooze button on the alarm. Not certain that’s an improvement. Let’s plow on with the morning’s writing prompt shall we?
Could be an interesting part to a cozy mystery which is really not in my wheel house. Could be fun to play around with though.
Tuesday, April 20th: His dark looks lacked any sting.
His dark looks lacked any sting. Any power he once had evaporated in the face of the evidence. He was caught fairly and even the no doubt impressive legal team he would hire wouldn’t help him. It might help him narrow down and possible even evade jail time, but the fines would be extensive. As the tale unfolded in court I expected more would come forth with suits against him.
And in the court of public opinion, he was through.
In time some people may forgive him, but he would no longer be the media darling. He duped far too many for far too long. As he was led away by uniformed officers, his dark looks no longer facing me I tried to feel victorious. The truth was I just felt tired and sad.
I hadn’t wanted him to be guilty any more than anyone else. In addition the extent of the corruption that was uncovered when the rock he was hiding under was kicked over made me realize I would never look at my quint little town the same way again.
I wasn’t a detective. I was perfectly happy living my life, going on my oblivious way, but things had a way of turning up. Sharron claimed it was because of my oblivious nature. Situations that tingled warning signs and caused others to back off simply didn’t register. And so I continued forward and ended up in the middle of whatever was going on. It happened regularly enough that our sheriff jokingly commented that my presence in town made his job easier. All he had to do was have someone follow me around and soon enough all would be revealed.
He was pleased I’d chosen to move back after years away in the city. I made his job easier and in the wake of the arrests he bathed in the public praise of the newspaper and mayor. I certainly didn’t want the credit. I moved back to town looking for a little peace and quiet. Things had gotten a little too…interesting for me in the great wide world and I was looking for a break. I also didn’t think Sherriff Nelson needed anyone to make his life easier. From what I could see, he took it pretty easy as a matter of course.
My thoughts started to turn towards the troubles I left behind, but I steered it firmly back to the present. Once the hoopla of the arrest died down, people would be by. Not the press, they knew by now I’d just steer them to the sheriff’s office and play dumb. He wouldn’t mention me at all, which was fine with me. No, those who would come by were part of the local news service that had nothing to do with what was printed in the paper. They would have heard through the well-connected gossip network of my involvement and come over to offer support and sympathy for the dramatic events and to revel in any salacious details I might let drop. I was informed by Aunt Grace that it was wise to keep them happy and always offered a few tidbits over coffee. Nothing horrific, just something small that leaned into local gossip and wouldn’t be of any interest to the regional newspapers.
They generally centered on the largest towns around us, our news barely making it to the third page. I bowed to the inevitable and went inside to put on the coffee pot. I baked that morning so I had plenty of lemon scones to offer up alongside the coffee. It was deciding on the details to add that would be the problem.
Ten til Midnight 