Page 129 of Too Old for This
“No. He arrested the right person. The killer. But that’s the thing about murder.” I lean forward, as close to him as I can get, and I whisper, “No matter how many killers you arrest, there’s always going to be another.”
Before he can react, I reach out and grab the gun.
CHAPTER 69
“You bitch.”
I smile.
Junior said that’s what his father always called me. I prefer to think of myself as highly resourceful, rather than a bitch. And smarter than Burke.
The gun is pointed at Burke to keep him from getting any ideas, but I’m not going to shoot him. The last thing I want is some ambitious crime scene investigator finding a bullet hole in a skull fragment.
“I knew it was you,” he says.
Perhaps the kindest thing I could do is admit it. Tell him once and for all that I am the killer of his dreams. If the soul is real, I have the power to let his rest in peace.
He stares at me. “You were always—”
I hit him on the head with the gun before he brings up my single motherhood again.
His head falls to the side, eyes closed, mouth still open.
No more words for him. Burke has had more than enough years to say everything he wants.
Now, I’ve got a list of things to do.
I hit Burke one more time. To be safe, yes, but also because I want to. This has been such a long time coming, it feels very cathartic. A breakthrough, as the therapists say.
Outside, the neighborhood is still quiet. No porch lights,no headlights, only a few streetlamps on. I head down to Junior’s SUV and grab my bag.
When I get back to the office, Burke is right where I left him. Still in his chair, his head tilted to one side. Blood snakes down his face, down his neck, and into his shirt.
My prepaid phone stays in the bag. I take out Norma’s and stack it on the desk with Junior’s. This is the last stop for Norma, who killed Junior back at the Dew Drop, took his phone and his SUV, then came up here to kill Burke. The phone data doesn’t lie.
Speaking of phones…
Burke’s fell off the edge of his armrest. I use his face to unlock it and go straight to the texts, searching back through them. A couple of weeks ago, he exchanged messages with Cole.
Burke:I’m trying to help. I know you didn’t hurt Plum.
Cole:What does it matter? If what you’re saying is true, Plum is dead.
Burke:You don’t want to help bring her killer to justice?
Cole:On the advice of my attorney, I can no longer speak with you.
I also find a local group Burke was involved with, mostly retired cops who like to drink and tell war stories. They go out every week or so. It looks like his version of my Thursday night church social.
When I scroll down farther, I find Plum. The last time they texted was over a month ago.
Plum:Thank you for sending all this background info. This is amazing!
Burke:Absolutely. If you need anything else, just let me know.
She never bribed anyone. All the information in that file had come from Burke.
I set his phone down on the desk. If the police bother to look, they won’t find his texts to Norma about me. Those aren’t on his personal phone.
