Bitter Lemon

Image borrowed from Bing


Bitter Lemon

Sam Sharpe, private investigator had his work cut out
for him. And he was in a mood, his ex wife was on his
case for more money and his new girlfriend was proving
tricky.

He was called to the townhouse of Harvey D.
Schoolzemeiner (the D was for dollar), something to do
with a dead Harvey, a hysterical servant and blood on a
breakfast plate.

All before 7 am. and Sam Sharpe, private investigator,
had run out of coffee beans and everyone knew Sam
didn't do mornings without coffee.

He arrived at the townhouse to be met by Harvey D's
distraught wife, a pneumatic blonde with tears in her
eyes but clutching a dry hankerchief.

Sam introduced himself and was led to the breakfast
room by the wife.

Harvey had been found dead by the servant at 6 a.m
this morning.

He had a knife wound through one of his main arteries.

'Is he really dead?' the wife breathed to Sam.

'Put it this way, doll, he has made his last dollar'
Sam said.

'Who would do such a thing?' the wife shrieked.

'Well, doll, I would definitely be pointing the finger at you,
you are what twenty five, Harvey was what? Seventy four?
What did Harvey do, doll? Or was he just too old and you
wanted to get your hands on some of those dollars, pronto',
Sam asked.

'He didn't like my pancakes, Sam, I tried every recipe and
he just HATED my cooking. I just couldn't take it anymore'..
the wife sobbed.

'So you had to kill him because he didn't like your cooking,
doll, is that what you are saying?' Sam asked.

'He said I cooked like his third wife. I know for a fact
that she only every microwaved, Sam. How did you know
I did it? I had been wearing oven gloves when I stabbed him,
I thought no-one would ever discover it was me', she cried.

'Listen, Doll, if you ever have another husband to kill,
don't draw heart shapes in the blood, the jury will give you
another ten years for that. That, like the lemon is just pure
bitter. Now who does a man have to kill around here to get
some coffee ?,' Sam barked as he reached for the phone
to call the cops.

Brigid O'Connor

Posted over on her site Sort of Writing
Listed as #16 over on Magpie Tales 55