The Windsor Street Affair

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I was baking spinach and cheddar cheese scones for the next morning when I heard the doorbell ring. I dusted the residual flour off my apron and walked deliberately to the front door, wondering who it might be at this time of the night. I looked out through the peek hole before opening the door to Sandra, my neighbor.

She walked right in, not waiting for me to invite her into the house. As soon as I closed the door behind her, she said, with a note of anxiety and excitement in her voice, "You heard right?"

"Heard what?", I asked her. " What are you doing at this time, everything ok?"

"Don't tell me. For the past hour, the chaos! You didn't hear it?? Typical you! You remember when we went to the farmer's market last week, we met Neya, from our neighborhood, who lives two lanes down on Windsor Street?"

"Mmmm, sort of. What about her?"I asked getting a bit annoyed that Sandra thought it was ok to barge in at this time to talk about someone we met very briefly. Not to show my annoyance, I bent down to dust off invisible flour onto my vintage rug.

"Well,... apparently, she killed her husband. The police are here. The ambulance. The fire department. The news channel. I am surprised you didn't hear all that noise. Our street is closed off too. No one is allowed to come in or go out. "

"What?! I didn't really hear anything. When? How?" I asked forgetting everything else.

Pleased with herself, that she had my full attention, she went on,

"A news reporter heard me saying to the others there that I had met Neya just last week. Obviously, the reporter wanted to know more, so he interviewed me. I thought maybe you would be interested to know."

Classic Sandra! I thought to myself. She talks about something like murder and she steers it somehow back to her.

She went on talking about the interview and what the reporter asked and how clever she was in phrasing her responses.

I listened to her patiently for a while until I remembered to check on the scones. I moved into the kitchen while she followed me still talking.

I opened the oven door, checked, set the timer for another 10 minutes, and turned back to Sandra.

She had been going on about the interview all along. I cut her off mid-sentence and asked," So, why and how did she kill her husband?".

This broke her beat, heavily discontent with the focus shifting from her, she said,

"Well....apparently, she had an affair and he came to know about this. He wasn't very happy for obvious reasons and she with her lover got together and killed him. Allegedly, the lover was the husband's friend. "

"Seriously? Wow!. "I had read about these things in newspapers and seen on TV but for such things to happen here, so close, it's scary."

"Ya, crazy right." Sandra recapped.

"How did it happen? When did this happen?" I asked stunned.

"From what I gathered, the friend called in first when the husband was alone, and they got talking and had drinks. Possibly the friend mixed something in the husband's drink and drugged him. The wife came in later and together they put him in the bathtub to make it look like an accidental drowning. The only reason they got caught by the husband's brother, is because they were stupid and cocky enough to celebrate their freedom right after killing him. While they were having fun, the husband's brother came by to get some signatures for their business. Anyway, I am a bit thirsty with all this talking. Get me a drink please." Sandra said stroking her slender neck with her elegantly manicured hand.

I still couldn't believe that all this took place so close by and I didn't catch the wind of it.

Out loud, I said, "Wow! Really! All this took place. She didn't seem the type. So strange. People are unpredictable. So many layers, eh? Who would have ever imagined, that such things can transpire in our neighborhood? Unbelievable! "

I filled her a glass of sparkling water and got some ice from the refrigerator, plopped in some cubes, and handed the drink over to Sandra. It had been one of those late spring days, bordering summer and I suddenly felt parched too. I poured myself a glass of sparkling water fetched some more ice cubes from the freezer.

Sandra was slowly sipping her water as if it was the most ordinary day and that there was nothing disturbing about it. She was suddenly awfully quiet.

I sipped my water and became thoughtful too. My husband was on one of his usual work-related trips. He had been traveling more frequently for the past year. Even though I had been living in this neighborhood for more than five years and knew most of the neighbors, it felt very unsettling. I thought of the murder and how unlikely the possibility was up until now in such neighborhoods. Yet, it did. I felt a sudden chill up my spine. I looked up at Sandra and she was staring at me intently. I wasn't sure if it was how I looked or how she looked, but the image became a soft blur. I tried to ask her why she was staring at me, but all I could manage was a heavy tongued, " whatha ooo lukin at?" I realized I was not being coherent, so I tried again, " waaatgzs gooon,??!"

Sandra moved slowly, setting down her glass onto the table, she came around the kitchen island and walked to the oven as it turned off. She put on the oven mitt and reached in for a hot freshly baked scone.

As I stood there watching her,  I wondered, why was Sandra behaving so strangely. I felt slight dizziness and I reached out to grab the bar stool. Instead, I fell flat onto the floor. I saw Sandra walk towards me to help me up, but she walked past and I could hear her open the door. I heard another set of footsteps along with Sandra's after a short while, coming toward me. I made an attempt to turn, I couldn't. It was as if I was paralyzed. Desperately I tried harder to move any part of my entire body, I couldn't. My mind was feeling numb. It felt strange. As if I was daydreaming. Spectral even. I closed my eyes.

"You undress her, I will go fill up the bathtub, " I heard my husband instructing Sandra.

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