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Nah, the way she complains about money, she definitely doesn’t live around here. I think she’s probably doing something for the podcast.
BurntheBookBurnerz:
What was she doing?
PreyAllDay:
Just sitting and watching. I could have said hi but she actually looked really intense!
BurntheBookBurnerz:
So she was watching the Blue Diamond?
PreyAllDay:
No, she was staring at a different one, the Seacrest Building. It’s the nicest one around here, super exclusive. Although I seem to remember a story about it. It happened way before I moved in. A suspicious death. I’ll have to do some research.
BurntheBookBurnerz:
So you’re rich huh? Makes sense.
PreyAllDay:
FFS.
The Fifth Murder
Chapter Twenty-Three
I found out my son-in-law Senator Reid Prescott was running for governor of Florida from the news. No one had bothered to tell me. Reid stood at a podium, all lantern jaw and thick hair, looking like a frat boy whose father just made a rape allegation disappear.
My daughters both married men like their twin sister. Diane had always been the dominant twin, the one who made the decisions and protected Rose. Diane had married Jonathan and then Brad both of whom rolled over and showed Diane their bellies every time she barked. Meanwhile Rose married an alpha like her twin, the kind of man who thought it was romantic to order in restaurants for you without ever asking what you like. Yes, it’s Psychology 101 but maybe like history, if you ignore it, you’re doomed to repeat it. Diane certainly had with hubby number two.
“I have been planning to run for governor for a number of years, but recent events have only confirmed to me that decent people need to push back against the decay we see all around us,” Reid announced, shaking his head dramatically at all the societal rot he could see in the conference room of a four-star hotel. I rolled my eyes. He always gave pompous little speeches like this, even before he became a senator. It was probably why Rose drank so much.
“Recent events being your mother-in-law’s confession to murder?” a reporter asked. Reid placed a hand on Rose’s shoulder, who stared into her lap, the picture of demure, ladylike shame. Yes, how very selfish of her to have me as a mother. She should have considered the political implications for her future husband when she chose to come sliding down my birth canal.
“Yes. Daphne St Clair represents the way our modern society has eroded the Christian ideals and family values our nation was built on,” Reid replied.
Modern society? I was ninety for Christ’s sakes! I started murdering back in the Fifties, the decade all these idiots had such a hard-on for! They seemed to think it was allLeave it to Beaver, when in reality, people fucked their neighbors and beat their wives; they just didn’t show it on TV. And all this tripe about family values and Christianity. Who was more family-oriented than me? Everything I did, I did for my kids. And where were those Christian values when I was getting raped by a preacher?
“Are either of you in contact with her now?” another reporter asked.
“Absolutely not,” Reid said vehemently. “I need to protect my family from monsters like her.”
“Why do you think she confessed? Do you think this election had anything to do with her timing?”
“It’s certainly possible,” Reid agreed. “My wife’s mother certainly does not share my political convictions.”
I snorted. What a joke. As if I needed to blow my life up to stop Reid from becoming governor. Reid didn’t need anyone’s help to lose the election, he could do it all by himself.
“What do you think should be done with her?” the same reporter asked.
“I believe that anyone who commits a heinous act like murder should receive the death penalty, regardless of their age,” Reid replied. Rose’s face remained neutral as her husband talked about sending her mother to the electric chair.
Guess I was off the Christmas card list.
The press conference went on, with reporters asking questions about me and the revelations in the podcast while Reid tried to steer the conversation back to his platform and his usual spiel about God, America, and the family. I always found it suspicious how much conservative men liked to talk about families. It always seemed to be the ones who were later found face-down in a pile of cocaine.