Mrs. Quigley’s Last Case
by Lewayne L. White
Annabelle Quigley was definitely dead.
The seventy-eight year old amateur detective’s face was buried in her cream of wheat. The gunshot wound to the back of her head made it clear that she was a victim of foul play.
“Big” John Biggs, Sleepy Glen’s chief of police, stood looking at the corpse, remembering all the times the scrawny old widow had shown up, revealed the culprit, and gotten all the glory.
Then she’d written about all her adventures in charming little bestsellers with cute alliterative titles like Mrs. Quigley and the Sinister Seamstress, Mrs. Quigley and the Fraudulent Fakir, and Mrs. Quigley and the Murder in the Manger.
“Guess you won’t be able to solve this one, will you?” Big John said aloud.
The whole town knew she had been receiving written death threats for a few weeks. Now it would appear that the letter writer had made good on his threats.
Big John activated his shoulder mike and called dispatch. “Judy, this is Big John. I’m on that suspicious activity call out at Quigley’s....”
Big John filled her in, then rolled his eyes and sighed as the dispatcher started bawling over an open mike.
He let her ramble, then told her to send the state crime lab boys over. “I figure they know their way to Sleepy Glen by now,” he growled at the dispatcher before signing off.
It seemed like every week that silly old Quigley bat would stumble onto another murderer, and solve it overnight.
It did nothing for Big John’s reputation that a town as small as Sleepy Glen had such a high homicide rate, and that all the cases were solved by an scrawny old busybody on Social Security.
“You’ll pardon me if I don’t shed a tear,” Big John said to the remains of Mrs. Quigley.
Then he tossed the throwaway gun on the floor and peeled off his disposable gloves.
Copyright © 2009 by Lewayne L. White