The detective’s voice throbs. I stare at my hands.

“She’s your sister. You don’t know what she’s capable of?”

“You’re a policeman. Haven’t you realized no one really knows anyone? I didn’t know the depths of her issues.”

“Issues. That’s a kind word for psychopathy.”

“Sociopathy.”

“Psychobabble.”

“Probably.”

He sits on the edge of the table and looks down at me. “She’s saying you masterminded her husband’s murder.”

“What do you think?”

“I think I read a similar plot in Archangel.”

“I wrote a book. I didn’t plan murder.”

“It’s in the book.”

“So’s a cake recipe; I don’t bake either.”

end 7/21/2016

S. Darlington