Page 46 of Too Old for This
Kelsie Elizabeth Harlow, 29, died of an accident in her home on Friday, April 12, 2024. Kelsie was born in Salem, Oregon, on March 4, 1995. She graduated from the Police Academy in 2016 and joined the Salem Police Department. In 2020, Kelsie earned a degree in Criminal Justice from Western Oregon University. At the time of her death, she was a detective inSalem. Kelsie is survived by her parents, Arnold and Ellen Harlow; an aunt, Marion Harlow; and her…
Unlike a lot of old people, I don’t enjoy reading obituaries.
The services will be held tomorrow at Allendale Funeral Home, a place I’m familiar with. I’ve been there several times over the past decade or so. The number increases each year as more parishioners and friends pass away.
Allendale created a memorial page on its website. I read through as much as I can stand. So many pithy, inane, useless comments. Death brings out the worst in people.
A life that ended much too early. You had such a beautiful soul, Kelsie.
Rest in peace, angel.
Treat each day as if it’s your last. We all need to remember that. Kelsie is gone way too soon.
You were a bright light in my life and so many others.
Out of the seventeen messages left by family and friends and coworkers, not one mentions anything suspicious about her death. Kelsie’s body was released by the coroner within days. Doesn’t seem like enough time for an autopsy.
On the surface, this is all good news. Unless the police are investigating her death but aren’t telling the family.
Sounds like something Detective Burke would’ve done.
—
Back in 1985, Burke interviewed me four times. Each episode was more terrifying than the last, because I never knew what was coming, what he would ask, or what new evidence he might throw down in front of me.
The last interview was his final shot. I didn’t know that when I showed up and Burke led me into the interrogation room. Back to that cheap metal furniture.
Burke always wore the same tie for every interview; it was dark blue with little yellow medallions on it. He always had a file with him as well, with lots of papers he would pull out and shove in front of me.
This time, no file. He had a box.
The first item he pulled out was a plastic evidence bag. He zeroed in on Walter Simmons, one of three people he thought I’d murdered. Marilyn Dobbs, Paul Norris, and Walter. Burke still hadn’t figured out the real connections I had with these people. He was forced to reveal more of his evidence.
“This is the shirt Walter was wearing the night he was murdered,” Burke said. He set it down on the table in front of me. “We found fibers transferred from another fabric, but it wasn’t clothing. The fibers came from a carpet. Oddly enough, they didn’t match anything in Walter’s car, house, or office.” He smiled at me. “However, the color matches the carpet in your car. I don’t even need a warrant to see that.”
Burke took a lipstick out of his box. It was not in an evidence bag. The tube was gold and shiny, and he took off the cap.
“Plum Orchid by Vivid Cosmetics,” he said. “We found traces of it on Marilyn’s lips. The strange thing is that all ofMarilyn’s friends, family, and coworkers have sworn that she only wore red lipstick.” Another smile from Burke. “But you wear this color, don’t you?”
If he thought I was going to answer, he was wrong.
Burke pulled another evidence bag out of his box. It was small and looked like a sandwich bag. He slid it across the table toward me.
“Can you see it?” he said. “Look close, because I’m sure you’ll recognize it. We found this hair on Paul Norris’s body. It was stuck to the back of his shirt.”
The long hair was curled up inside the bag. Medium brown, just like mine. It took everything I had not to smile. Not to react at all.
When I killed Paul Norris, my hair was strawberry blond.
I didn’t just feel relieved. I felt lucky. Burke had tried to trick me into saying something, and thank God he’d made a mistake. If he hadn’t, it might have worked.
CHAPTER 26
I stuff myself into a fitted black dress, thinking about whether this is stupid or safe. The stupid column is the obvious: I murdered Kelsie.
If I hadn’t made a mistake and brought my phone to her house, I wouldn’t go near her funeral. But I’m also a retired old woman without much to do. The kind of person who shows up at funerals for people I barely know. It won’t look strange to pay my respects.
I put on a full makeup face. Foundation, translucent powder, penciled eyebrows, bright red lipstick. Old-lady makeup, which is how people expect me to look.
