Mystery writers can be strange. It's just the way we're drawn. On one of my online listservs, we've been talking about the logistics of how to hide a body in a septic tank, a landfill or some other not-easily-located place. On another list, we're talking about amateur sleuths and what bugs us about them. I can't help myself sometimes; I just have that Inner Spoof thing going and this stuff has gotta come out! When a member of the group mentioned the time worn idea that the amateur sleuth finds way too many bodies, this short story came to me. Enjoy! And yes, it's a spoof, and yes, it's the brand new, unedited version. :-)
Happy trails y'all!
bobbi c./b.a. neal
One Little Thing
By B. A. Neal
“Aren’t you the one that found that body last year? The one stuffed into the septic tank at that old farmhouse?” the Sheriff asked her.
“Well, yes, Sheriff, as a matter of fact, that was me,” she answered, modestly.
“And here you are again—right in the middle of another big mess! How do you explain that?” he asked.
“I just have the knack, I guess.” She shrugged.
“Either that, or you’re the killer!” He looked her up and down, suspiciously.
She smiled. “Who, me? I’m just a little old lady who loves to knit. I saw all the lights and thought I’d come over and check it out. I’ll go back home now, if you don’t need my help. I need to get two more rows finished on this damned afghan before bedtime.”
“No, we don’t need your help. Please go home. We're the experts here."
She started to walk away, then stopped. “There is just this one little thing….”