Dinner is Prompt-ly at Eight - 10. A Body in the Library

A Body in the Library - Prompt #372

“Wait. You want me to do what now?”

“You need to come with us sir. There are more questions and we need to take a formal statement.”

“I don’t understand,” Donnie said frantically looking around him. “I don’t know anything. More importantly, who is that woman?”

The police woman shook her head at him. Her grasp on his forearm was forceful and determined as he was led to the police car outside his front door. Well, it wasn’t really his front door. It was his wife’s front door and speaking of, where was she?

*****

Donnie Malone looked around the police interrogation room in a bewildered state of mind. The events of only an hour ago seemed so unlikely, especially for someone like him. He’d never had a run in with the police, well once at a college kegger he’d snuck into, but that was it. Donnie had never even gotten a traffic ticket. His life was clean as a whistle and yet here he was in a police station waiting for someone to tell him what was going on.

“Here’s your coffee Mr. Malone,” the police woman who brought him here said. She set the paper cup of brownish, not so clear liquid in front of him. Next to it, she tossed a little plastic baggie with a packet of sugar, a sleeve of non-dairy creamer, and a napkin. He wanted to thank her, that courtesy was built into his psyche, but he didn’t really want to. Part of him was rather angry at their rude treatment of him. This woman, her badge said, “Karen Slayton” had rolled her eyes at his perfectly reasonable questions.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing here,” Donnie said, ripping open the baggie. “Who was that woman? I need to call my wife.”

Officer Slayton sighed. She looked over behind her. Donnie followed her eyes and saw two men in the corner. Both of them were rather heavy set, looking at them with their arms crossed with looks of thunder on their brows.

“This will be easier if you answer my questions first, Mr. Malone,” the cop said, quickly tapping something into her laptop. “To begin, where were you earlier today, before you came home?”

“I was at my tailor’s getting some suits altered. Cagney, that’s our driver, took me at one pm to Kim’s shop and then he drove me to Beacon’s for some lunch. I ate alone then Cagney brought me back home. I guess it would have been about three o’clock or something,” Donnie answered. He was trying hard to be precise and not whine.

“You got home and did what?” she asked, looking at him suspiciously. Donnie could see the two men were also glaring at him.

“I had a little headache so I went to the kitchen, took some aspirin, and laid down in the family room on the couch. I dozed for a little bit until the cuckoo clock struck four. I remember it was four o’clock because that’s when my favorite program is on, ‘Judge Judy’. I hate to miss it and…”

“Okay, that’s enough. Four pm you wake up and then what?” Slayton asked him, her voice was rough, troubled.

“I went to the library and that’s when I saw her. It was quite the shock. Do you know who she is?” Donnie said, remembering it with a shiver. It’s not every day you walk into a room and see a woman in a pale blue silky evening gown lying with a huge red splat in the middle of her chest. She had long, blonde, flowing hair that had spread around her head like a halo. Her face looked peaceful, with a little smile on her bright red ruby lips. There was something wrong with her shoes. They were sneakers of some type. She was a lovely, young, twenty-something woman with a darling figure.

Donnie had never seen her before in his life.

“Are you really continuing that façade, Mr. Malone,” the police woman asked with a sigh. “We know who you are, who she is, we’re trying to figure out why you did it.”

“What does that mean?” Donnie asked. “Who is she? What are you implying?” He suddenly felt as if the room shifted 90 degrees and he was in serious trouble. Donnie swallowed and placed his trembling hand on the desk. “I need to call my wife, right away.”

The police woman looked at him with disgust. “You’re joking right?”

“What is there to joke about? You’ve practically accused me of murder and I need to call my wife and get an attorney. I’m very confused about this whole thing. I find a total stranger lying dead on my library hearth rug and call the police and now you think I did it.” Donnie took a breath and opened his mouth again. “Please let me call her.”

“Mr. Malone. I don’t know what your game is. That is your wife. Your butler found you standing over her body. We don’t know what you did with the gun, but you have blood on your coat sleeves,” she said, a look of revulsion was plastered on her ruddy face.

Donnie’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not my wife. I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“Your servant told us she was Kevyn Ruth Woodsman Malone, your wife,” Slayton said, suddenly looking more confused than disgusted.

“I should know my own wife, I would think. That isn’t Kevyn. Kevyn weighs about fifty pounds more than her, at least ten years older if not more, is shorter, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a silk evening gown,” Donnie sputtered in shock. “That’s not Kevyn.”

“It’s not?” a masculine voice asked behind him. One of the men had approached and leaned in close. “How curious.”

“I’m telling you, that is not the woman I married,” Donnie said, his face turning red in fury. “Where’s Fahd? Why would he say something this strange?”

The police woman stopped tapping on the computer keys. The man behind him who simply reeked of cigarettes and coffee backed away. “I’m sorry sir. Who’s Fahd?” Slayton asked.

“Our butler,” Donnie said looking back and forth between them. “Fahd is our butler.”

“Mr. Malone, isn’t your butler’s name, Severance?” the man asked, once again approached. Donnie winced at the smell of him so close.

“No. Our butler’s name is Fahd. I need to call my…” Donnie didn’t really know how to finish his statement. His whole world was ripped into pieces. He didn’t know what was happening to him.