Murder at Police Station

by Waggoner, Robert C.

  "Tell me please, why you never told anyone about the secret life you designed for Erica and her offspring?"

  "A half a million dollars buys a lot of silence, wouldn't you say Marshall," he said rather too snidely.

  "What about some professional help for a victim of child abuse from a father who took advantage whenever he pleased. How do you explain that, Mr. Mason," said a rather vociferous Stacy.

  "Quite frankly, no one ever thought about it. Besides I was only an instrument between the two family members."

  Stacy let that conversation sink in as she walked around the table to address Erica. Erica still sat with her head down. Stacy could see that at one time she must have been nice looking. But now the times had not been good to her. She look weathered and beaten down. Stacy said, "Erica, would you tell us how you felt back then when the family sent you away from home after discovering that you were pregnant."

  At first nobody thought she would speak at all. Stacy was patient and as she walked around behind Erica, she squeezed her shoulder in friendship. Erica raised her head up and said, "It's time I unloaded the entire saga of being raped by my father and my mother ignoring my cries for help. I was happy to leave that evil man and evil woman. My father told me my mother was frigid. Then he had the gall to say it was my job to relieve the tension because my mother refused his advances. He was very persuasive and I believed him for a time. But after a couple of years, I learned he was telling me lies. I didn't get pregnant because he would withdraw before ejaculation. Later he gave up on that idea. Anyway, after leaving home, I got lonely for my friends and my hometown.

  Then the babies were born and as you can see, they are affected by inbreeding. I did the best I could, but after a few years, my mother began writing me nice letters. I wanted to come home, but she always had an excuse. That always sent me into depression and a trip to the doctor for more pills. One time I was watching TV when a murder mystery came on. The case was solved by a pathologist identifying the poison used. I decided it was time for a pay back. I flew to Portland and then flew to North Bend. I rented a car, drove to Bandon, let myself in the house with my own key I'd kept for years. I found my mother upstairs in bed reading with the light on. I pretended to like her and then she asked me to hand her the milk of mag for her bowel movements. I had the poison, she turned her head for a second and that gave me time to add the poison to her glass of medicine. I'd done enough research to know how much to give her. I wiped the glass clean, went downstairs, got a used glass from the sink, replaced it on her night stand. The rest you know."

  "Why did you kill the housekeeper," asked Stacy.

  "Anyone that worked for my mother needs being put out of their misery. I just helped her on her way to a better life. My mother bragged on the will screwing all the book club members out of what was promised them. Now that I'm here, that will is essentially null and void. What I'm saying is, I've a lot of money coming. I'll make sure each has more than enough money to make their lives very good. I'll rot in jail, but at least I'll have someone to talk to. I'm a little sad about the delivery driver, but that's life."

  "One last question, Erica, would you sign a confession or a statement of what you said at this meeting?"

  "I don't see why not. If my two girls are not charged for any crimes, they can live here with hired caretakers. Let's see what happens."

  End

  I’m dedicating this novel to my friend and editor, Carole Soare. Any mistakes the reader finds, are my own and not Ms. Soare’s. I write for the pleasure of telling a story. My best selling books are the Stacy Foreham mystery series. With the addition of a fine editor, she has taken the series to a higher level with her polish. The settings are real in Oregon. I grew up on the Southern Coast of Oregon. My father played golf of the course I used for the first Stacy Foreham story: “Missing Niblick”. My aunt worked the club house.

  Enjoy the latest in this series. It’s still very reasonable to read a full length novel for less than a cup of Starbucks’ coffee.

  Robert C. Waggoner