CROSSING: A Murder Mystery

I wrote this yesterday and sent it to two mystery friends. They both said it wasn’t a mystery. Maybe it’s a poem. xxxx

Susan Schwartz, 73, was walking across 79^th Street towards Broadway when she

noticed, almost as though it had been there forever, an actual body. Dead. A man of

indeterminate age, wearing what looked like an imitation Burberry raincoat. An addict

of Scandinavian and British TV mysteries, especially those with Lesley Manville, she

decided she’d figure this one out. So she went into Liquor Liquor, an overpriced wine

shop on the corner, and asked Igor the manager Who Did It. Igor was a smart man. He

said the victim was William from apartment 36 in the building above the store. His

girlfriend Rose, said Igor.

They were a contentious couple. She wanted to make it seem as though he just had a

heart attack. I’m sure she poisoned him. They couldn’t even agree on a bottle of

wine, said Igor.

So Susan went into the building, rang the bell of apartment 36, and confronted Rose.

“Did you kill William?” she asked the frazzled woman in a yellow dress who came to

the door. “I did,” said Rose.

And that was that.