The Wrong Murder

“I’m serious,” I said. “A woman called the apartment earlier and it wasn’t anyone from his family or a coworker. And I also discovered he took a life insurance policy out on me and forged my signature on the document.”

“Yeah, I guess I can see how that might not look good.”

I pushed my elbows up the table. “This isn’t a joke. I’m serious.”

“Can you go to the police?” She brushed her blazer, dusting it off.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. Jessica was always one to be a perfectionist.

I shook my head at her. “No. I can’t go to the police on a hunch. They’ll have me committed.”





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