Third Degree (A Murder 101 Mystery)

of the cross at the news of Ginny’s passing. Kevin let out an “oh, shit” that surprised Queen, but not me. Trixie gave a little woof in horror.
    I stood up. “Why did she do it?”
    Queen crossed her arms across her chest, ready to make her pronouncement. “Well, as a private investigator, in my professional opinion, I would have to say that that woman poisoned Carter Wilmott to death and jumped to her own death out of feelings of intense guilt.”
    Kevin took his glasses off and wiped the lenses between his T-shirt. “No shit, Sherlock,” he said, striking a much more familiar, not to mention off-color, tone with Queen than I would have thought the last twenty-four hours of togetherness would have warranted. But I didn’t have time to deal with that now. I needed to call Crawford.
    He sounded groggy when he picked up. I skipped the greeting. “Ginny Miller just threw herself off the Tappan Zee Bridge.”
    “Huh?”
    “You heard me. She’s dead. She committed suicide. On television. I saw the whole thing.”
    “What channel?” he asked, now fully awake.
    “News47 Westchester. You don’t get that station. But I’m sure it will be on all of the local news stations shortly.”
    “Well, that solves that.”
    “Solves what?”
    “The issue of the poisoning. She probably poisoned Wilmott and jumped because she felt guilty.”
    He’s so smart he could be a Hooters waitress. “Or because she had had an affair with Carter. And maybe George found out. Or maybe because George is going to jail for a crime he didn’t really commit.”
    “My head hurts.”
    “Mine does, too,” I said. I looked at Queen and Kevin, who I noticed were now chowing down on a pizza at my dining room table, and were also helping themselves to a lovely cabernet that they had found in the wine rack that I had been saving for a special occasion. Heck, I guessed that now was as good a time as any and walked over to pour myself a glass before my freeloading roommates chugged the whole bottle themselves. I told Crawford to go back to bed or to at least stay in a reclining position and sat down at the dining room table. I was still in my work clothes and felt overdressed for this little gathering but proceeded to eat anyway.
    Kevin and Queen eyed me as I sipped my wine and nibbled at my first slice of pizza, waiting for some outburst that wasn’t going to come. I tried to put the pieces together in my head but kept coming back to the same conclusion that everyone had beat me to. Ginny had poisoned Carter and had tried to pin it on Lydia. Ginny was the nurse and the one who had the pharmacology background. If anyone had known how to kill someone by poisoning, it was Ginny, not Lydia, who had no discernible skills as far as I could tell besides being able to look gorgeous despite the situation. Had Ginny realized that nobody would believe her? When all was said and done, she felt guilty for killing Carter but only because it would have compromised George’s freedom. She had loved her husband enough to not allow him to go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit, but not enough to have remained faithful. She had found herself in quite a conundrum, it would seem. She had no way out, except for one.
    I tried not to think of her hitting the piling and breaking into a million pieces internally. She was a pain in the ass, but a human being nonetheless, and one who had cared enough to see that my mother had had the most comfortable death she could have, under the circumstances. I didn’t know how to feel. I left my pizza on my plate and excused myself from the table, the feelings of nausea returning.
    Once in my room and under the covers, I thought about George Miller. Had he found out about Ginny’s affair with Carter and had that been the origin of the fight at Beans, Beans? Ginny’s death left more questions than answers and, like Crawford, my head hurt.
    It was early in the evening, but I had been rendered useless by the hum of the window air conditioner combined with my exhaustion from being back at school after a summer break and from the events of the past week. I drifted off to sleep in my soft bed, thinking before I went into a full doze that I hoped I could stay asleep until the following morning.
    It was only a few hours later that I felt the familiar shape of Crawford lying next to me, the warmth from his body bringing me comfort after a restless few hours of sleep. I burrowed into him and wrapped my arms around him, wondering