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A Short Story : A Story Of A Story

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“Fine, thank you. Have you found anything new about who murdered my mother?” Marlene asked. “At this point, we have no suspects, but we are talking to the neighbors to see if anyone saw anything last night or this morning. The CSI team took photographs and checked for fingerprints if you need anything out of the house. You will need to wait until they finish.” “Of course, I understand, I’ll let you do your job,” Marlene said, greeting several ladies gathered, before she left. +++ Turning to the ladies standing nearby, still holding a pen and pad in his hand, ready to write, Detective Wallace asked, “Mrs. Wade, would you to tell me exactly what you saw this morning?” “About six o’clock, I took my little “Poopsie” out to use the bathroom as I do every morning, I saw a man running from Mrs. Lincoln’s backyard.” “Did you get a good look at him?” He asked and continued writing. “Yes, I sure did, and he looked at me, before running down the street,” she said shaking her fist. “Did you see his clothes, or anything distinct about his appearance?” He asked. “I most certainly did, his skin was black, he was wearing an old denim jacket with a big hole, right up here,” she said, pointing to her left shoulder. “He was wearing dark, dirty jeans with holes in both knees, and old, ragged, brown, leather shoes with the laces hanging loosely.” “Did you see the color of his hair?” “Sure did, he was wearing a cheap, dirty looking cap covering most of

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