Author's note: An old type-writer inspired this book.
I woke up on Wednesday morning in my bed. On my nightstand was a note telling me that I had passed out after hearing about the DNA results. I sat up and tried to think through all the evidence I had gotten. Broken window, Mr. and Mrs. Larth’s fingerprints, the shooting, bloody gloves, history on Frank Larth, and the blood on the gloves belonging to Frank himself. I decided to pay a visit to Mrs. Sheila Larth in the hospital. She was recovering nicely. I asked the nurse to leave us alone for a few minutes, as I needed to ask her a few questions.
“Are you aware that there is a dirt road about a mile down the hill in front of your house?”
“Yes, yes. Frank used to drive down that road every morning on his way to work.”
“Was this before or after Randy Mayfield passed away?” Mrs. Larth got a disturbed look on her face as she answered.
“I hate thinking about that. He didn’t mean too! It was an accident!” I could tell Mrs. Larth was getting very worked up and I calmed her.
“I know it was an accident, it’s ok.”
“That was before he ‘killed’ Randy Mayfield. He quit his job after that incident.”
I then left Mrs. Larth with a bouquet of flowers, then headed back to the dirt road. I came to the place where I found the gloves. I drove past this dirt road until I hit a dead end. I stopped the car and could see a house in the distance. I got out of my car and walked about a quarter mile before reaching the house. I rang the door-bell and a large man answered the door.
“Hello,” I said. “I was wondering if you had seen any cars pass by hear a few days ago.”
“Nope. Hey Stark, you see any cars around here?”
“No,” answered the man I presumed to be Stark.
“Thank you for your time, Mr…..”
“Doris. My name’s Doris.”
“Thank you for your time Mr. Doris.”
I walked back tom my car and drove home.