Chapter 64
APRIL
There was a knot in my stomach as I approached Margie. Odd that talking to the police daily and organizing a funeral for a husband I’d had murdered had never led to a knot in my stomach. But a lunch with my old friend could.
I think I knew why. Everyone else was believing my lies, and I feared Margie was about to call me out on them. We gave each other the requisite hug, and I sat down opposite her.
“You did a great job at David’s funeral,” she said.
“Thank you. It wasn’t easy.”
“No doubt. For multiple reasons.”
She was being both complimentary and passive-aggressive at the same time.
“Why did you invite me here today, Margie? You know how busy I am.”
“I just wanted to say hi to my best friend.”
“That’s not what this feels like.”
“What do you think this is?”
“Get to the point, or I’m walking out. I have to meet with the police again today,” I said.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“What choice do I have?”
“Are you mad at me, April?” Margie asked.
“No.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
She then took in a deep breath, followed by an exhale that was overly long and theatrical.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I was releasing the breath I’d been holding.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s a phrase.”
“No, it’s most definitely not a phrase.”
“Well, they say it in the Psychological Thriller Readers group I’m part of on Facebook.”
“Whatever, weirdo. Will you get to the point?”
“I think you need a vacation. I can’t imagine the stress of David’s murder, and all you’ve had to deal with since.”
“It hasn’t been easy.”
“That’s what I’m saying. And it’s why you need a vacation. Imagine you and me on a Caribbean island, drinking Pina Coladas. Much better than this crappy February weather in LA. Plus, it could help you recover after this terribly stressful time.”
Was this all she wanted? A vacation on my dime? It was time to find out.
“Sure, let’s do it. Should we split everything right down the middle?” I asked.
“Well, we can talk about that when we book it. You probably have a little more money than I do right now. Just saying.”
I looked at Margie, and in that moment, I knew I had nothing to fear.
She had this puppy-doll look to her. She wasn’t here to accuse me of killing David. She just wanted a little taste of my newfound wealth, and probably really did think a vacation would do me well.
“I’m sure I could pick up my fair share of the expenses,” I said.
“That’s all I’m asking for. Thanks, April.”
The waiter came, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Maybe I’d been holding it in, Margie-style.
I got home from lunch and spent most of the day thinking.
The murder of David was almost two weeks old, and I’d never even been labeled a suspect by the LAPD. The two detectives seemed to be on my side. I now knew I didn’t have to worry about Margie.
Things were looking up.
But then, when I woke up the next morning, a piece of paper had been slid under my door, which changed everything.