What I hated the most was the balloon dart booth. While it was one of the most colorful booths set up, with about fifty randomly colored balloons attached to white pegboard, I hated hearing the popping of the balloons all night. It drove me crazy.
I usually ran the duck pond booth. It was safe and easy. Every kid got a prize, and I didn’t have to worry about getting beamed in the head with a baseball or have my body pierced from wayward darts. The worst that happened at the duck pond booth was I got a little wet.
“Oh, Ryli, Sister Williams was just telling us about poor Miss Molly,” Mrs. Evans said, wringing her hands.
“I told Chief Kimble today when he came over to interview me that I can’t imagine anyone here knowingly giving you poison,” Mrs. Nelson added. “I gave him a list of all the people that were helping put food away, but really anyone could have given it to you when we turned our backs.”
Sister Williams patted my arm. “I guess no one is safe until the killer is caught. I just can’t believe he was parading around at the service waiting to get to you. It’s shocking.”
My head snapped. I hadn’t really thought about it like that. Had the killer been watching me the whole time I was people watching. Whereas I had no idea who the killer was…the killer obviously knew all about me and my personal life.
Crap!
“Well, I’m sure your young man will wrap this up shortly,” Bea Sellers said, her eyes twinkling. Bea was the oldest member of our church at ninety-five. Her and her ninety-year-old sister, Mildred, live together just two doors down from the church.
“We better be going, we don’t want to keep you,” Mrs. Evans said.
The ladies left, and weaving our way through the maze, Sharon led me to one of the islands in the kitchen. There were numerous cakes, cupcakes, and cake pops stacked on the counter, along with homemade caramel popcorn balls. Jugs of apple cider and cola were also lined up against the wall on the counter.
It was obvious a group of ladies had been here earlier baking. Usually they were a lot tidier, though. There were icings, sprinkles, and even a little container of sugar sitting out on the counter.
I eyed the cake pops.
Sharon must have noticed. “You want some, Ryli?” she asked.
“Sure do!” I exclaimed.
Smiling, Sharon busied herself gathering some goodies. She looked slim tonight in black pants and black sweater. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought she was going to a funeral. Her mousy brown hair was caught in a barrette on the back of her head.
“I told your mom and the other ladies to just go on home, I’d finish icing the cupcakes. I love icing cupcakes…it’s so relaxing.”
Whatever floats your boat there, Sister Williams.
I just wanted some sweets.
“I know how much you like chamomile tea. I’ve got a little left in the pot. I fixed some for the ladies earlier to help them relax for the evening. I’m sure after the stressful day you’ve had you could use it.”
I practically wept. Did this woman know how to take care of someone hurting or what? “I’m just so thankful Miss Molly is going to make a full recovery,” I said.
Saying nothing, Sharon finished pouring the tea. She reached over and dumped in a large spoonful of sugar. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t care for sugar in my tea. After a few seconds of stirring, she carefully slid the hot tea over to me.
“I prefer apple cider myself,” she said as she poured herself a large glass.
Blowing on the scalding tea, I took a small sip. I wasn’t at all prepared for the taste...it had a little bite to it. I almost wanted to ask for more sugar.
“Do you know why I asked you here tonight, Ryli?”
I wrinkled my brow. I was pretty sure. “Yes, to give me a present for Miss Molly.”
Sharon chuckled as though I’d said something funny. Not wanting to say something offensive, I blew on the tea then took another sip.
Yep, tea still sucked.
Sharon set an orange cupcake with candy-coated bone sprinkles in front of me. I’d never seen anything so cute before. I picked off one of the bone sprinkles and bit into it. It tasted like the stick out of a fun-dip. It was glorious. I gobbled up the rest of it.
I washed it down with another sip of my tea. I was just beginning to feel tranquil when Sharon started talking again.
Plop! Plop!
My cell phone sounded from the front pocket of my jeans. Not wanting to be rude by pulling out the phone in front of her, I carefully wiggled it out of my front pocket.
Great, it was from Garrett and he was yelling at me again. WHERE RU? GOING STRAIGHT TO VOICEMAIL!
I’d forgotten it was sometimes hard to receive calls down in the church basement. I went to answer him, but my fingers felt funny.
I realized through my haze that Sharon was still talking. I blinked, trying to focus in on what she was saying.
“I absolutely loathed that woman. The nerve of her coming over to the parsonage to tell Pastor she was going to push for our pay to be cut. She wanted to bring in a youth pastor to generate new blood. New blood! Who did she think she was?” I could see spittle starting to gather at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes looked wild and glazed.
It took me a minute to realize whom she was even talking about. Not only did my limbs seem to be tired, but so did my brain.
And just like that...everything snapped into place.
What the fuck, how did I miss this?
I tried thinking back to all the clues, but I couldn’t make my mind focus.
“I knew I had to do something. One thing about your pastor, he’s a wimp when it comes to playing hardball.”
I willed my brain to keep up, but I could tell I was slipping.
“So I did what any loving wife would do when pushed…I killed her. The bitch once told me that in business you couldn’t have a heart when it came to doing what needed to be done. Can you believe that?” Sharon screamed, throwing her glass of cider against the wall. “Who did she think she was?”
I watched as the juice slid down the wall at a snail’s pace. Or so it seemed to me it was a snail’s pace. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
“So I made sure she understood what I thought of her ridiculous proposal that she typed up for the church board. It was so easy. I knew her husband would be gone. I slipped some Ambien in Pastor’s drink, took out my bottle of ketamine I stole from my brother-in-law, and off I went to cut that bitch’s heart out!”
Her brother-in-law's ketamine? “Wait, why does your brother-in-law have ketamine?” I managed to ask. Or at least I thought I did. In my mind it came out clearly.
Smiling a twisted smile Sharon laughed. “He’s a veterinarian in Columbia. I made sure Pastor and I went for a little family visit the day after Vera came to tell us what she planned. I went there, snagged a bottle, and came home.” Her eyes suddenly darkened. “Of course the ungrateful bastard had the nerve to call me and ask about it! I told him it must’ve been stolen by one of the people at his clinic, and he should call the police. How dare he accuse me!”
I must be delirious because I laughed. “For some reason, Steppenwolf’s ‘The Pusher’ is swimming around in my brain the more you talk,” I sneered at her.
I vaguely remember my mom telling me about that song some years back. I knew the ketamine was kicking in, because I could feel myself starting to drool, and it took a while to move my arms fast enough to wipe it away. At this rate, I’d be a goner soon. I needed to keep her talking.
“So that night you drugged your husband and went to see Dr. Garver, taking your special stash of ketamine. Then what did you do?”
Sharon reached out and pulled a huge butcher knife out of the drawer. She tapped the blade against the island counter. “I came and got this knife and the mandolin slicer. I went over to her house, brought a nice dessert and thermos of hot tea already spiked with the ketamine, and pretended I wanted to understand her side.”
I’m pretty sure I th
rew up a little when she told me about the knife and mandolin. I’d never be able to use a utensil from here again…assuming I survive the night.
“Oh, she went on and on about the good of the church, showed me the proposal she’d already typed up to present to the church board,” Sharon’s harsh laugh echoed off the walls of the room. “I plied her with the tea, waited for it to take effect like it’s doing to you right now, then hauled her ass up on that kitchen table and started ripping out the heart she clearly didn’t have! Then as a nice touch, I went ahead and sliced off her fingertips. Didn’t want her to use them to write any more nasty letters.”
You’d just hacked out her heart. Typing a letter would’ve been her last worry, you psycho!
Sharon laid her hand on my arm. I glanced down and felt my skin crawl. “Did you like my little present to you? I knew the minute you stopped me that morning outside Subway, wanting me to answer questions about that woman that you would probably snoop around until you found out the truth. So I knew you had to die. Jesus doesn’t like snitches you know.”
I blinked and managed not to laugh out loud. Should I remind her Jesus doesn’t like murderers?
“Why kill Iris?” I asked, hoping to stall her.
“I wasn’t sure what that evil bitch had told Iris. I couldn’t take the chance Garver would blabbed to Iris one day when Iris was doing her hair. So,” Sharon shrugged her shoulders, “Iris had to go. Iris swore she knew nothing when I went over to her house Sunday night. And even if that was true, she knew too much by then and had to die. One less gossip to worry about. Jesus doesn’t like gossips you know.”
I snorted. This bitch is freaking bonkers!
“Figured giving you the very tongue that came from the gossipmonger as a gift would finally keep you quiet. Little did I know you were already fornicating with the Chief, and he’d come calling.”
Fornicating? I wish!
Calming the hysteria I could feel bubbling inside me I asked, “I thought Garrett questioned you guys and you had airtight alibis?”
Sharon laughed. “Silly girl. Your pastor wouldn’t know which end was up most days. He’s not really aware of this, but he’s become quite dependent on my special drink I give him at night…a little Ambien mixed in with his two-finger measure of Scotch.”
I’m not sure what shocked me more, the fact she drugged her husband every night or the fact my preacher drinks Scotch. I suddenly felt sorry for him. Unbeknownst to him, his wife was drugging him while she wrecked havoc on the town.
“It makes me sick to watch him drink the devil’s potion. Jesus doesn’t like drinkers you know.”
I couldn’t stop the hysterical laughter that escaped from me. I wanted so badly to ask her what exactly Jesus did like...but I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to cut out my tongue. And I kinda liked having one.
Realizing I needed to do something soon, I asked the one question I could formulate in my mind. “Why kill my cat?” I asked, hoping rage would bolster me enough to react.
Sharon shrugged again. I was about ready to rip off her shrugging arms and beat her with them!
“I guess I wanted to watch you suffer. I just wish it would’ve died so I could torture you with that knowledge while I killed you.”
My phone plopped again. Another text message from Garrett. WHERE THE HELL RU?
In her crazy ramblings, Sharon hadn’t noticed the notification sound on my phone. Hoping to hide the phone, I hunched over and grabbed my stomach, moaning. “My stomach,” I said and laid my head on my arms, surreptitiously forcing my fingers to cooperate and text a reply.
I lifted my head and noticed she was busy putting more ketamine in my tea. “This’ll make it feel better,” she assured me as she turned and set the container back on the counter.
In that moment I hurried and text a reply of help church and hit send. I think it actually came out hep chuch, but I knew Garrett would understand.
I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by since my initial ingestion of the ketamine, but I knew from my research that it could take as little as twenty minutes for the drug to do its job. I knew I had to do something.
Leaning over the island, Sharon picked up my hot tea and brought it to her lips. I watched silently as she blew on it and stared me down.
“There, that should do the trick,” she said. “I would typically toy with you a while longer. I love hearing them beg,” she giggled. “But I have to get home soon. Preacher is expecting his dinner any time now, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” She brought the cup to my lips. “Drink it!” she demanded.
With all the strength I had, I lifted my arms and shove the scalding tea in her face. Her blood-curdling scream jolted me backward. I tripped over my feet and fell to the floor. Scrambling, I tried to stand. It took me three times before I could manage.
I glanced over at Sharon. She’d managed to wipe the liquid off her face and was starting toward me with the knife. Terrified, I turned toward the booths hoping to escape.
Even though my mind was fuzzy, I could still remember where some of the games were located. I decided to go for the baseball toss. I remembered the balls were already in the baskets.
You know those terrifying dreams you have where you are running for your life, only to be running in place? That’s what I was experiencing. In my mind I was Florence Griffith-Joyner...in reality I was a snail swimming through peanut butter.
Hoping I could get to the baseball toss quickly, I took off like a rocket. Unfortunately for me, Miss Rocket tripped and careened headfirst into the duck pond booth. My head hit the lip of the plastic kiddie pool filled with water and plastic ducks. I fell to the floor on my hands and knees. The pool, which was sitting on a wooden platform, tipped over and fell on top of me. I was soaked.
I heard Sharon scream. “Look what you did to the carpet, you clumsy bitch!”
I shoved the empty kiddie pool off me and once again scrambled to my feet. Sharon was practically on top of me. The plastic pool hit Sharon’s feet, tripping her up. As she started to stumble, she brought the knife down, inches from my boobs and stomach.
I’d always wanted a little work done, but not that way. Taking off once again for the baseball toss, I prayed Garrett was on his way. Hearing Sharon’s crazy breathing practically in my ear, I knew I had to just grab some balls and go. I came upon the baseball booth and grabbed two balls without stopping.
Umph!
I felt pain radiate down my back. The crazy bitch had taken my idea and hit me with a ball! I turned on my heel and threw with all my might. The ball stopped a foot from where she was standing. I told myself it was the effect of the drug and not my lack of athleticism that had the ball falling flat.
Sharon doubled over…laughing so hard she had to hold her side. “Oh, my God! You’re pathetic. It’s almost a shame to have to end your pathetic little life!” With that she took off after me again, knife raised.
I waited until she got a little closer and heaved the ball as hard as I could at her.
Smack!
This time the ball went a little higher, and I actually hit her…right in the crotch. I started to laugh as she doubled over again, this time in pain.
Standing back up, I could see the wild anger in her eyes. She raised her knife-clenched hand in the air and screamed, “You die now!” She took off after me again in a hobble. Seeing a crazy-eyed woman with a knife hobbling after you screaming for your head kinda makes you take stock of your life.
I knew I had to wait until she was closer before I could hit her again with something. The drug was just too powerful in me. It was all I could do to lift my arms or propel my legs. I was so exhausted. I was also out of baseballs. I was almost ready to give up when I heard the distant wail of sirens.
He found me!
Either that or I was hallucinating. I’d read ketamine could make you do that.
Deep down I knew it was Garrett, and that little thought was all I needed to boost my energy and push on toward the dart board game.
I saw the darts lying on the wooden platform and reached for them…my hand barely grazing the darts.
As my hand closed over the darts, Sharon’s hand closed over my wet hair. She yanked with all her might. I saw stars and cursed. Yanking my head forward, I heard strands ripping from my head. Pivoting, I braced myself for the impact.
Sharon careened into me full speed. We fell headfirst onto the wooden board that held the players back. Spinning head over heels we both hit the ground hard.
Umph!
I felt the air leave my body. We’d landed wrapped in a tangled mess. Just my luck the knife didn’t plunge into her crazy ass. On the bright side, it hadn’t plunged into mine either. I still had one dart in my right hand.
Sharon wrapped her legs around mine and leaned over me. Knowing if she got on top I was a goner, I focused on her arms. She raised the knife in her right hand and brought it down toward my chest. I blocked her arm with my left hand and simultaneously plunged the dart over and over and over again into her neck. Blood squirted everywhere…down her neck and onto the side of my face.
I gagged.
Screaming, she tried to grab the dart from my hand, but either her aim was off due to blood loss, or I was too adrenaline-crazed to stop...because I'm sure I stabbed her at least seven or eight more times before I felt her start to slump over and rest fully on top of me.
Miles away I heard a door being knocked off its hinges. At least it seemed miles away. Come to find out it was only a few feet from where we were grappling.
I saw Garrett’s face looming over me seconds before he hauled Sharon off me and cuffed her. He then shoved her off to Officer Ryan.
Now that the adrenaline rush was over, I was virtually unable to move. I just laid there, shaking uncontrollably. Garrett knelt down by my side, "Don't try and move. Matt is coming with a board and we're gonna get you out of here. You're still feeling the effects of the drug."
Picture Perfect Murder (Ryli Sinclair 1) Page 19