(Continued)

Bile came up my throat. I rushed into the adjoining bathroom and threw up in the toilet. After I rinsed my mouth and washed my hands, I just stood there, staring into the mirror. I couldn’t believe it. The last two weddings I’d attended had both ended in killings. It seemed like marriage really was a dangerous proposition. Yeah, okay, so I’d been the perp last time, blowing away my husband at a friend’s wedding reception. But how could this be happening to me again?

Then my conscience, always a little slow on the uptake, came on line. What the hell was I doing feeling sorry for myself? I was neither the perp nor the victim here. A good woman, a woman of peace, had been savagely slain.

It was time to act. I pulled out my cell and called the cops. Dirty Harriet was on the case.