Her Alibi
Mary L Schmidt
Genre
Thriller
Publication Date
31/08/2022
BUY NOW & FURTHER DETAILS
About the Book
Visions of her Cherokee grandmother, Cordie, flashed through Mary’s mind as her mother, Marguerite, informed her that her stepfather shot himself and was in the hospital. Oh no!
No! This can’t be! Not after the joking around at my home last night. NO!!!! Did she use me last night? She’d never use her scapegoat child. No, she couldn’t! Even Marguerite wouldn’t sink that low! Or would she? Marguerite had always been abusive and vile to most people, and especially to her children and husbands, but would she shoot Harold?
Yet, here I was, and I had to tell the police that, yes, my mother was at my home all evening and into the night. How despicable that my mother connived her way into using me as her alibi.
Book Excerpt
My doorbell rang, and I ran to see who it was. I saw Mother’s face through the peephole.
“It’s a little late already. What’s up?” I inquired.
Mother smiled, which she seldom did. I was surprised to find her in such a good mood. I almost didn’t believe my eyes! My mother stopping by – but why? Something was up for sure. She never visited me for three years!
“Can’t I visit my daughter?” Mother asked.
I nodded, but a cloud of doubt hung in my mind. I opened the door to allow her in, but I was still dumbfounded. Why would Mother visit me now?
After she was there for a while, the doubts left and we sat down and shared coffee and leftover bread from breakfast, the conversation flowing between us almost naturally.
It was one of those rare moments when Mother spoke to me, and I, the daughter who always craved her love, basked in what I believed was a reconciliation of sorts. Yet it was a devious plan on her part.
“Something’s bothering me,” Mother said.
I paused. Something’s always bothering you, I wanted to say. But feeling that the barrier was broken somehow by the evening’s conversation, I asked, “What’s bothering you?”
“Harold.” Mother stopped laughing. She was telling me a funny incident earlier, and when she shifted the topic to her husband, her facial expression immediately changed.
“What about him?” I questioned.
The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes deepened as she smirked. When she spoke, I thought I caught a hint of concern in her voice. I wasn’t sure though.
“Do you think people are really capable of suicide?” she asked.
I looked at her, surprised. “There’s news about suicides every day,” I said. In my head, I found it hard to understand them, though. Life was so wonderful. Why would anybody want to take his or her life if tomorrow holds a promise of something better that could come along? “Why? How’s Harold?”
Mother shook her head. Her expression brightened once again. “I think he wants to take his life.”
“That’s preposterous!” I burst out. I didn’t know if my outburst was because I couldn’t believe Harold would take his life, or because Mother didn’t show any compassion. She made life hell for him, but suicide?? Thus, I chose my words carefully as I had no idea where she was headed with this conversation. “Why? He doesn’t strike me as the type.”
“He’s been depressed these past days. I’m worried about him,” she said, averting her gaze.
Mother had been so hard on me that I found it hard to believe she would worry over someone so deeply. Besides, she seemed very buoyant that night.
“Do you know what his problem is?”
“I don’t know. But he seems really depressed.” Then she laughed loudly. “Enough about that; this time is for us.” She pointed her finger to herself and then to me. “Let’s forget about Harold and go back to other more meaningful discussions.”
I frowned, but for the first time, I felt a step closer to her, even though this situation didn’t feel right. I had to be careful with my words as I didn’t want her to punch or kick me, which hadn’t happened since I moved out of her home.
In my heart and soul, I knew I couldn’t build a bridge with my mother without love, so no fence mended. She was a total stranger to me, laughing and telling stupid jokes without a care in the world. Harold was forgotten when she finally left after four hours, and I locked my front door.
The next morning, I awoke to such horrible news. Mother had “found” Harold with a gunshot wound in his upper abdomen outside their house, and in the blue Ford truck.
My earlier trips to hospitals when I was young came back to me. The feeling of fear, of whether there would still be tomorrow, taunted me. My heart clenched thinking about poor Harold.
He was taken to a hospital to undergo surgery, mostly to repair the internal organs torn by the bullet. The procedure was successful, and I was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.
I was afraid of Mother, so I never had the courage to visit Harold in the hospital. What was relayed to me was that “Harold lay in his bed, and he was very pale. His eyes were listless as though he had lost the will to live.”
My conversation with my mother came to mind, and I remembered her telling me that Harold was depressed.
Police officers came in to talk to Harold. They wanted to talk to him alone, but my mother rarely left his side, playing the devoted wife. When Harold was alone, he was silent, probably out of fear, and refused to talk with the police. Why didn’t the police pick up on that?
Was it possible for Mother to transform into someone so caring overnight, for her to not want to leave Harold’s side? No way. That did not fly with me. Was there another reason she didn’t want to leave him alone? I think so.
When asked where Mother was the night before finding Harold with a gunshot wound in his stomach, and sitting in the cold of night, inside a pickup truck outside their house. Well, my mother told all the police officers that she had been with me!!!
It was true, but it horrified me because I felt used. I was her alibi–she did use me. Now what do I do? My mother had me stuck tight, and she knew it! I hated being stuck!!! I was her alibi!
BUY NOW & FURTHER DETAILS
About the Author
Mary L Schmidt
Mary L. Schmidt writes under her given name and a pen name, S. Jackson, along with her husband Michael, pen name A Raymond. She grew up in a small Kansas (USA) town and has lived in more than one state since then. At this time, Mary and her husband and split their time between homes in Kansas and Colorado where they love the mountains and off-road four-wheeling. Traveling is one of their most favorite things to do and Mary always has a book to read on her Kindle. Books are one of her favorite things. When she was younger, it seemed like every time she turned around, a new library card was needed due to the current one being stamped complete. Diving into a good book made any day perfect and you would be surprised at the number of books she read over and over.
As a child, Mary drew paper dolls, and clothes for them, using watercolor as her medium when painting scenes, especially flowers. She continued with art in high school exploring a wide variety of mediums such as jewelry making, ceramics, leather works, drawing, painting and more! Her creative loves to be an amateur shutterbug and she has an online art gallery.
In college, she went into the sciences, and received a bachelor’s degree in the Science of Nursing. Throughout her nursing career, Michael assisted Mary in her work with The American Cancer Society, March of Dimes, Cub and Boy Scouts, and sponsored children alongside his wife on music trips. Mary’s nursing career was highly successful, and she hung up her nursing hat in December 2012.
Mary and Michael love to read, fish, play poker, go Jeeping, and travel, especially to visit their grandson, Austin, and granddaughter, Emma.
I love the way you wroked this up. Thanks you so much!