Chapter 3 - The Locked Door
The mention of Clara’s father sent a visible shudder through Arthur, who instinctively took a half-step backward toward the front door. Officer Vance noticed the subtle shift in body language, his professional instincts kicking in. He dropped his hand from his holster and looked closely at Arthur.
"What is she talking about, Arthur?" Vance asked, his voice dropping to a serious, official register. "Is there something inside this house we need to know about?"
Elena gasped, spinning around to face her stepfather. "Dad, don't listen to her. She's delusional. She’s just trying to ruin the day because she was left out of the will."
"The will?" Clara shrieked, taking three quick steps toward the porch, her high heels sinking deep into the damp turf. "There is no valid will, Elena! The whole thing was forged in 1994, and I have the papers to prove it! But you wouldn't know anything about that because you were too busy helping him hide the safety deposit box key!"
Arthur’s face drained of what little color remained. He raised a trembling hand, trying to silence Clara, but it was too late. The seed of doubt had already been planted in the minds of the responding officers.
"Ma'am, step back," the rookie officer warned, taking out a pair of handcuffs just in case things escalated further.
"No, I won't step back!" Clara yelled, turning her attention back to the ruined memorial table. She reached down and picked up a heavy, intact silver candlestick holder that had survived the deluge. "You all think this is just about a funeral. You think she died peacefully in her sleep at age eighty-two, right? That’s what the death certificate says!"
Clara slammed the silver candlestick onto the concrete porch step with a loud, metallic clang.
"She didn't die of natural causes," Clara declared, pointing an accusing finger directly at Arthur’s chest. "He poisoned her tea. Just like he did to my father."
A collective gasp rose from the group of mourners standing quietly near the back door. Elena clutched her head, her knees buckling slightly as the horrifying accusation hung heavily in the humid afternoon air. Vance looked at Arthur with hard, unblinking eyes.
"Arthur, I'm going to need you to step inside the house with me right now," Vance said, unlatching his notebook. "No one enters or leaves until we secure the premises and check the medical examiner's report."
Arthur swallowed hard, his throat dry. He looked at the front door, then slowly turned his gaze back to Clara, who was smiling triumphantly.
"You're making a terrible mistake," Arthur whispered hoarsely, stepping toward the threshold.
May you like
He reached into his suit pocket, pulled out a heavy brass key, and unlocked the front door. As the heavy wooden door swung open, revealing the dark, silent hallway inside, a strong, foul odor drifted out into the sunlight.
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