The Jacket

It was a dark and stormy night.

Actually, it wasn’t night; matter of fact, it was morning, around about 10:26 a.m., according to the computer clock, which was always approximately six minutes slow, according to my cell phone and the clock on the wall above Sandy’s desk. However, the sky was dark, and the clouds looked like they could become stormy, with just a little encouragement.

All I could think about was Sheila’s jacket. All Sheila could think about was murdering three co-workers and making it look like an accident.

All anyone else could think about was lunch.

Sheila got the jacket for $3 from the Lost Luggage Place in some town in Alabama. She read about it on the Internet and made Robin take her down there.

“Do they just let you go through the luggage?” Sandy asked, blonde and innocently.

“Oh, no, honey, it’s set up like an actual store,” Sheila replied.