Black Moonlight by Amy Patricia Meade

Perhaps he removed it from his pocket before he was killed.”
    “The typewriter ribbon,” she nearly shouted. “My father-in-law was able to trace the note to the typewriter in his office because he saw the imprint in the ribbon.”
    “Requisition the ribbon, Nettles,” Jackson ordered. “And then bring in Ashcroft’s widow for questioning.”
    Nettles left the room and went about his duties.
    “I have to hand it to you, Miss … Mrs. Ashcroft,” Jackson complimented. “It sounds as if you can place everyone’s whereabouts prior to the murder.”
    “Not everyone, Sergeant Jackson. Unless someone else saw them, we have no idea where Selina and George were,” Marjorie stated grimly. “No idea at all.”

“I was Richie’s secretary for five years,” stated Griselda Ashcroft as she adjusted the top of her worsted wool swimsuit. She looked at Marjorie, “He liked me to call him ‘Richie,’ what with his and your husband’s names being the same.”
    Marjorie responded with a polite smile. A name was the only thing Creighton and his father had in common.
    Nettles entered the room and quietly took a seat next to Marjorie.
    “We finally got married four months ago,” Griselda continued. She thrust the gaudy sapphire and diamond ring in Jackson’s face.
    The Sergeant reared back. “Yes, that’s—that’s very nice. Your husband must have cared greatly to have given you a ring like that.”
    “Yeah, he was always buying me things. He was very generous.”
    “Hmm. And how did you feel about him?” Jackson posed.
    “Why, I loved him, of course. He was my husband,” Griselda stated matter-of-factly.
    “And what about his claims that you were keeping an apartment in New Jersey?” Marjorie questioned.
    Griselda threw her a dirty look. “That was a lie.”
    “Was it now?” Jackson chuckled. “Just because we’re on an island in the middle of the Atlantic doesn’t mean we can’t find out for ourselves. Nettles?”
    “Right, sir,” the Inspector replied. “I’ll make those phone calls when we get back to the station.”
    “Okay,” Griselda capitulated. “Richie was right. I am paying for an apartment, but it’s not what it looks like. At least it wasn’t at first. Before Richie and I were together I was seeing a fella named Benny Kerr. I fell for him—hard. But he wound up being a real crumb. Always borrowing money off of me, going around with other women. So I called it quits. That’s when I met Richie and I flipped for him. It was nice to have someone give me things for a change instead of the other way around. I ran into Benny a few months back, right before Richie and I got married. He was hard on his luck, so I loaned him a few bucks. I guess part of me still had it bad for Benny because one thing led to another and, well, you know.”
    “You must have been quite angry when your husband outed you last night,” Nettles ventured.
    “I was more surprised and embarrassed at first. For him to say those things in front everyone! Later on though …”
    “You were angry,” Nettles surmised.
    “That’s why I went upstairs, packed my bag, and left. I couldn’t stand the thought of being in the same house as him.”
    “Where did you go?” Jackson asked.
    “Hamilton.”
    “In the speedster?” Nettles asked.
    “Of course, in the speedster. Did you think I took a canoe?” Griselda chortled.
    “Who was in Hamilton?” Jackson challenged.
    “What? What are you talking about?” Griselda responded.
    “You didn’t meet someone in Hamilton? Perhaps Benny Kerr?” Jackson proposed.
    “Benny’s back in New Jersey. Would I have liked for him to come down and meet me in Hamilton? Sure,” she confessed. “But this trip was so last-minute that I didn’t have the chance.”
    “I thought this trip was your idea,” Marjorie spoke up. “Selina said that you wanted to get out of the city.”
    “I always want to get out of the city during the summer,” Griselda stated. “But we were just