An accident or a murder?

 

“When midnight came and went and all that was left on the road was a pile of suitcases and two smashed cars, I knew something was up. Something real bad.

It was a little short of two when they arrived. The inspectors.

The barricades emerged soon after and I could hear cameras shuttering everywhere. People flocked from near and far for their share of ‘breaking news’. Never have I ever witnessed such hysteria outside my six-storied building in the ninety years of this earthly existence.

A crime. They whispered. A murder. I could tell by the way his lips moved. The inspector spoke with a lisp, his face unexpressive and distant. Intentionally I guessed. Twelfth grade sign language classes came in handy here.

From where I was seated in the balcony of fifth-floor Palmera Height Apartments on West Avenue road, I could see the goings-on with some clarity. If not for a few trees and an old school building blocking a portion of the rear view, I could well have offered live news-feed straight to a channel.

Why was I awake? I blame it on age. Sleep crawls slowly, sometimes failing to grant a visit even. If not for the disturbing shrieks that broke my reverie, I would still be up at night counting daisies or sheep on my six-by-six cot like any other night.

Ever since my husband died more than ten years ago, life has been slow and sluggish. I have gone from being a home-body to a nobody; a silent witness; from a doer to a be-er. Trust me, it’s not easy. I crave action. Anything that makes me feel important. And no, being a nanny doesn’t count. I would rather read mystery novels than change another grandchild’s diapers.

Thankfully, today was different.

I can tell you this much. This ain’t no ordinary accident. I saw it. The car smashing into another!

It has to be a MURDER!

How can there be no dead bodies? I have seen and read enough detective books to know how to spot one! You can’t fool me, no! There’s still enough and more brains left inside this rotting hell-hole of a body!

It was a little before midnight when I heard it first. The barely audible shriek of a woman, few seconds before the crash. Perhaps she foresaw the accident. I don’t know which car she was on. The red one or the yellow one. But I sure know this. She wasn’t there a few minutes later when I looked hard. In fact, there was no one. I wonder how they disappeared. I saw the backs of a young boy and a man from the corner of my eyes. Before I could put on my glasses and have a closer look, they were gone!

The police say there’s no motive. I betcha there is!

That nasty woman sure had an affair. The shriek sounded like a crazy ass-woman’s shriek I tell you! She ain’t no good! I betcha! This whole time I’ve been up there on my balcony like a hawk, I have seen every single one of the suspects around but not that woman. The woman who shrieked. I can recognize her if I saw her perhaps.

Anyway, I don’t know exactly who did it. I don’t know who would want to kill somebody. All I know is that on the night of May 2nd, a little before midnight, two cars crashed into each other and out came a few people, youngsters possibly. That’s all I could make out from these old pair of eyes. Does that make me a witness? Well, go ahead if you may. I don’t know how much of a help this ninety-year-old can be. But I promise to do the best I can.”

Mrs. Heins broke off her monologue as she stretched her arms, her body quivering in a wheelchair with every word she spoke.

“I hope that was enough,” said Elizabeth, Mrs. Heins’ forty-year-old daughter-in-law standing behind the wheelchair.

"I guess so,” replied the police inspector. He was a balding old man in his fifties.

“But we may have to come back for more questioning,” He added.

“We will be off now,” The younger of the two inspectors spoke with an air of immediacy.

It was 5 am on Elizabeth’s ivory wall clock. The four of them stood up in the drawing area of the Heins’ spacious two bedroom flat. They realized it was time to depart.

“Did you really see all that you spoke of mother? Or did you spice it up a bit?” Elizabeth asked, her voice curiously excited as she wheeled her mother-in-law to her room on the ground floor.

“What do you think?” smilingly asked Mrs. Heins, adding—“Perhaps I did….But I am an old rag now….I guess I am conceded a bit of insanity, don’t you think?”

And she laughed.

Elizabeth yawned. She was on her way upstairs. Sleep had deprived her too.

Truth will find its way soon enough. Yawn

Dawn broke with an audible crack, a back stretching itself out of a long nighttime cramp, and all was still.