chapter two: Mrs. Hazelton believes that Reverend Paulson is dead, but Ms. Matthews insists that he's just resting. Who's right?
photo by ldyck
Is The Reverend Dead?
Chapter Three
Poor Reverend Paulson’s demise weighs heavy on my shoulders.
The minute I walk into my house Mr. Wiggles runs over to greet me. “Meow.” Somehow he can always tell when I’m upset. He rubs up against my leg. I pour a little milk into his bowl, a rare treat.
His long, pink tongue laps it up. It’s somewhat comforting to see him so content, but the image of the Reverend lying lifeless on the floor comes back with full force.
I carry my heavy, old aching body down the hall into our bedroom. Arthur is still wrapped in the covers. When I enter the room, he rolls over and smiles. “How was church?”
I slip off my Sunday dress and hang it in the closet. “I think the Reverend is dead.”
Arthur starts to laugh. Then he reads my face. “What do you mean, you think?”
“I saw him fall. He was on the floor.” I sit on the bed to remove my nylons. “I felt for his pulse but it wasn’t there, but young Ms. Matthews said she found it.”
Arthur climbs out of the covers to sit beside me.
I stare at the closet but my mind is too full to focus on anything. “She used her thumb to take his pulse.”
“You can’t do that. There’s a pulse in your thumb.”
“I know. That’s what I told her, but she didn’t… No one heard me. They all just left. Do you think I should phone the police?”
“Of course, you should.”
We sit there together for a while, Arthur holding my hand.
“Well, enough of this,” I tell him. “I’ll prepare lunch and then make that phone call.” And that’s what I do.
A young, soothing, female voice answers. “Tiny Islands Police Department. What is the nature of your call?”
“I’d like to report a murder.”
“Animal or human?”
“Human.”
“Murdering or murdered?”
“Pardon me?”
“Has the killing already happened or is it currently taking place?”
“Already happened,” I tell her.
“Just a minute please.”
I’m sure the music is meant to comfort me, but it’s rock and roll—so it doesn’t.
I hear breathing on the opposite end of the line. She’s transferred me to a policeman. “Hello?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to report a murder.”
“I know. You were just talking to me. Remember? Phone back this afternoon. Two constables will be on Plumper Island to investigate further at that time.”
Phone back? I’m reporting a murder and she wants me to phone back? Surely, I’ve misheard her. “Pardon me, I thought you just told me to—.”
“Phone back this afternoon.” She hangs up.
photo by ldyck
Are you following me?
