Early Sunday morning Andrea came home from school to attend church with me. Driving us there, I noticed my side mirror had been bumped and I rolled down the window and popped it back into place, not giving it a second thought, but, foreshadowing(!!)…
So, okay, we sit through church. Yadda yadda. Amen and amen.
When it’s over and we walk back to my car, I notice something.
Dent and blood:
Andrea: “Mommy, who’d you kill?!”
Me: “Hey, who’d I kill?!”
I mean seriously, what? We looked in the trunk, but no body or anything. How could I have hit someone recently and not known it?
Back at my complex I was able to obtain the same parking spot and aha! Clues.
Blood on tire rim and splatters on pavement:
Blood on curb:
Blood leading up the sidewalk:
… all up the sidewalk and then back into the parking lot where it finally disappeared.
Andrea said I should call the police but I thought she was just overreacting until a friend later told me I should and so I did. But I was afraid I’d be disappointed, which I was. Where’s Dexter? How could you not send the blood splatter analyst – I mean, seriously? You’re not taking any DNA? Complete waste of time, though the cops did fuel my drama. “That is a LOT of blood.” “Look how it splatters all across the hood to the left and then onto the door to the right.” “Someone really got into it.”
“I know, right?” I encouraged. “And then they probably had to get treated at the vet! You know… because they’re wanted.”
And no body.
And a dented car.
But a mystery! And those are delicious.
(So is this).