Part 36 (2/2)

I am so excited! Only two blocks away.

Finally I reach my mother's house and I park in the back. I am taking the girl inside the house, going in through the back way. n.o.body will catch me, because my horoscope said there would be good results if I follow through to completion.

And now is the time for completion.

This woman I'm dragging into my house is supposed to be my sister. My sister was a redhead. Now you see why the hair color is so important?

What do you mean that you don't understand how a stranger can subst.i.tute for my sister? G.o.d, you are so dense. Don't you get it? My sister was killed when she was little, run over by a car. I figure she'd be grown up by now if she were still alive.

My mother always wants my sister. My mother still cries over her. My mother tells me all the time that I'm second best. You know, how it should have been me who got run over by that car instead of my sister because I'm, well, damaged...and my sister was perfect.

My mother needs to quit thinking that I'm damaged. I'm really just different. And as you know, different means special. I told you that I am superior to the average people in this world. I'm different, not damaged.

But my mother always wants my sister. So I figure, what the h.e.l.l, I'll bring my sister back. Maybe then my mother will like me, too. We could be a real family again.

So, this redhead is my gift to my mother. This is my sister.

There you go again, interrupting me. Don't worry, I'm getting to the murder part. Quit rus.h.i.+ng me.

I figure if this redhead isn't quite right, and my mother doesn't think she's good enough to be my sister, then I'll just get rid of this redhead and find another one. I could try this or that one on for size as my sister. You know, life is really very simple if people are smart enough to put things in perspective. It doesn't have to be rocket science.

But because my horoscope is so positive for this day, I am pretty convinced that this is the right redhead to be my sister.

But something is wrong now. To this very moment, I still can't figure it out. I can't understand what is wrong. I keep looking at my sc.r.a.pbook, and my horoscope doesn't change for that day. Horoscopes are always right. So what is wrong?

Do you think I lost that special ability to be able to really be in tune with the stars? Did I suddenly stop being able to read my horoscope correctly?

It's confusing and upsetting.

But now I'm getting to the murder part. You happy? It's what you've been waiting to hear.

My mother's reaction is what's wrong. Here I have her daughter in my arms. Alive. Here's the perfect sister that she's been wanting all these years. I have done the most wonderful thing in the world. I have brought my sister back from the dead.

Why is my mother screaming? What the h.e.l.l?

Shut up! Shut the h.e.l.l up!

Look at your daughter! Don't you want her back? What's the matter with you? I did this for you! Don't you appreciate it?

Oh man.

I let the girl go, and she falls to the floor. I am really confused now.

I decide that this must not be the right redhead. So I have to kill my sister. I reach into my jacket and pull out the hammer.

But then I realize that my sister is already dead. She was run over by a car, a lot of years ago.

How can I kill someone who is already dead?

Okay, here it is-what you've wanted to know. We're finally reached the murder part of my story.

I don't kill the redhead. But my mother is being so rude.

Now do you finally understand why I am justified in killing my mother?

THE HOUSE ON HENLEY WAY.

by Jeani Rector

”You have to tell them,” Nick said.

Mandy sighed. ”I'm so close to a sale. I can feel it in my bones. The wife loves the home.”

”You know the full disclosure law in California,” Nick told her. ”In California, sellers have to notify buyers if a death occurred on the property within the past three years. If it was a murder, the buyers have to be told no matter when it happened.”

”Some buyers are creeped out by that knowledge,” Mandy said, frowning.

”At least be glad your buyers aren't looking at the Dorothea Puente house over there on F Street,” Nick said. ”Those weren't exactly flowers that Dorothea planted in the ground. That old bat committed murder times eight.”

She ignored his sardonic grin. ”Well, it's just that in this recession, sales are so hard to come by. Frankly, I need a sale.”

”Don't we all,” Nick said. ”It's not exactly a boom for realtors. But things will turn around. You know that the housing market is cyclical.”

”Unfortunately, my bills won't wait for any turnaround,” Mandy said. ”A sale on Henley Way could do me a lot of good.”

”Que sera sera. It means whatever will be, will be.”

She started toward the office door. ”I know what it means. Don't start singing that old song or it'll be stuck in my head all day.”

He grinned again as she went out.

She got into her car and started the engine, deep in thought. She knew that Nick had been right. She was bound by California law to disclose what had happened in the Henley Way house.

But it was so long ago, she thought. Surely it wouldn't matter after all these years.

Nonetheless, she was supposed to tell the prospective buyers the truth.

Mandy drove to Henley Way, where she was going to meet the young couple interested in the house. She had arrived too early on purpose, because she wanted some time alone to think. She pulled up in front of the house, turned off her engine, put her hands on the steering wheel, and stared.

It looked like any other house.

It was tan with white trim; a typical tract house. It was a ranch-style one-story, just like every other house on the block. Who would figure that this house was any different? Nothing about its appearance made it stand out from the rest.

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