Riverside's Perfect Murder

The Nightmare

Rita sat up in bed in a cold sweat. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep. She got dressed put her hair in a ponytail and walked down to the corner.

George was behind the bar with a rag in hand as always. Rita sat on her stool, the third from the door. George still wiping the bar came closer, and asked, "Usual Rita?"

"Make it a double, OK," Rita replied.

"Sure thing, kid." As George was pouring, he asked, "Bad dream again?"

"More like a nightmare. You would think I would be over it by now." Rita said sipping her drink.

"Give it time. I know PTSD takes a while to get over. Believe me, I know — some things you never forget. I saw a lot back in the war, and it was tough for me. I still can remember, but I have worked very hard not to face all of it every day. What did the shrink say?"

"You mean the one I won't go to," Rita replied.

Laughing, "Yeah. Did your therapist give any advice?"

"I don't know. Mumbo Jumbo crap is all. The only thing that I can remember is to try to compartmentalize. I remember thinking how can I do something that I don't know how to spell." Rita finished her drink and asked, "Another please George."

Taking the glass, George said, "Compartmentalize. Now that is a big word for sure."

"How do you do that?" Rita asked.

"I'm not sure. I know for me I had to accept what happened because I knew I couldn't change it. It wasn't easy. I think back to things I could have done, but I know if it happened again tomorrow, I would do the same things again with the information I had at the time. It's helped me when I think that way. I might do different things now because I know more but maybe not. Who knows?" George said.

Rita sipped her glass lost in thought. George went to the far end of the bar still wiping with his rag.

Rita finished her drink and looked at the clock. One-thirty. She decided not to have another. Getting off the stool she said loud enough for George to hear. "Thanks, George."

"Sure thing kid. Get some sleep."

"Yeah right," Rita said sarcastically.

Rita did feel tired as she got undressed and slid into bed. Perhaps she could sleep tonight.

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In the morning, Rita arrived at Mrs. Wilkes a little before ten and sat in her car thinking about her approach. Finally, she exited her vehicle and was walking to the door when she noticed the yard. It had been cleaned up of all the clutter and freshly mowed. Even the small gate seemed in better shape. Curious, she thought.

Mrs. Wilkes opened the door on the first knock. "Oh good, you're here. I am afraid I do not have much time. You mentioned you had a few questions for me. I don't know how I can help with the bank robbery."

Rita noticed the kitchen was clean. No dirty dishes in the sink and the faded carpet looked freshly vacuumed. "I will be brief, but may we sit please."

"Why, yes of course. Please come in detective."

Rita could see the stack of unpaid bills was no longer on the end table. "First, again I am very sorry for your loss. I know this must be a tough time for you."

"Thank you."

"You appear to be feeling better did Doc help you out?"

"Oh yes. The doctor was accommodating. Thank you."

Well aren't we polite, Rita thought? "Mrs. Wilkes, were you aware your husband's employer carried a life insurance policy on your husband?"

"What? Well, I guess I knew. I mean, my husband told me things about our finances, but I'm afraid I understood very little. My husband handled most of the finances."

"I see. Has anyone been out to see you?"

"Why, yes. Mr. Applegate from the Columbus Insurance company left an hour ago. He came by first thing this morning. He said I would be getting a check for two-hundred-thousand dollars in a week or two. I was shocked when Mr. Applegate told me. Now if there is nothing else may I go?"

Rita stood, "Yes of course." Mrs. Wilkes was leading Rita towards the door when Rita stopped and asked, "I'm sorry. There was an indication at the bank you have a safe deposit box at the bank. Do you still have it?"

"Why I don't think so, as I said, my husband always took care of those things. Now good day, detective, I must be going."

Rita left with a final look around as best she could without it being obvious. While none of this felt right Rose hadn't done anything wrong that Rita could prove. It's no crime to be happy your abusive husband is dead, just odd. All mighty curious, Rita decided as she got back in the car.

Joe called a few minutes later. "The manager of the hotel was no help. As far as they know, no one of the guy's description was staying at the hotel. I'm headed over to the bank to see more security footage of the days leading up to the robbery. If the guy was a customer of that bank maybe we can get a good look at him."

"All right and see if you can find out anything more about this safe deposit box."

"Will do," Joe said, hanging up.

Rita got the distinct impression that Mrs. Wilkes was lying to her or at least withholding information. Where did the guy go after the bank? Into the hotel, we can see that but then where? Did he honestly have a suit on under his overcoat? A professional hit? Sure seems that way. These and other thoughts were occupying Rita's mind as she pulled away from the curb so much so, she failed to notice the old, dirty, red Ford Probe pull out behind her.

Rita felt a chill run down her spine and looked in the rearview mirror, but nothing was there. She looked out the side windows but couldn't see anyone. Why were the hairs standing up on her neck she thought? This damn case is making me nuts? Rita decided to meet Joe at the bank; maybe she could get some answers there.

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The man in the Probe with his white hat sitting on the passenger seat next to him smiled. Why Detective Rita you look so utterly perplexed. Whatever are you thinking? You shouldn't worry so much. Today could be your lucky day, the man thought. Rita went straight at the light while the Probe turned right. The man did a little wave as he drove out of view. "Until we meet again, detective."

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