Dear Sir, I'm Yours by Joely Sue Burkhart Page A

recognize herself. “Look at yourself, sweetheart. It is you. You can be the woman you always wanted to be, whatever that means to you, and he’ll embrace you, fully, wholly, without any restrictions.”
    Dabbing at her eyes proudly, Miss Belle beamed at her in the mirror. “And if not, I’ll give you the parasol I used to keep handy to club some sense into Colonel Healy, God rest his soul.”
    Oh, yeah, Rae knew the crazy old lady would have a loaded parasol somewhere.
    The lights flickered.
    “I think I need to call an electrician in.” Forgetting the dreamy vision in the mirror, Rae cast a worried glance up at the light fixture. It was at least fifty years old. “Did you actually hit your husband?”
    “Only a few times. I assure you, he deserved it.” Miss Belle shot a glare over the corner of her shoulder. “Didn’t you, honey?”
    Pipes rattled and groaned in the wall.
    “And a plumber,” Rae whispered. “Um, Miss Belle, I was meaning to talk to you about some very strange things that happened today…”
    “Don’t worry about Colonel Healy. He’s harmless, for the most part. His bark always was worse than his bite.”
    “He’s still around, then? Like a…a…”
    The doorbell rang. Miss Belle cocked her head, listening, and alarm flickered across her face. She whirled and rushed for the stairs, Rae on her heels. They hurried downstairs and Miss Belle threw open the door. “What happened?”
    Sobbing, Samantha threw herself into the old lady’s arms. “Oh, Miss Belle, it’s so awful! Bill is dead and I think…I think I killed him!”
    It took several starts, another pot of tea, and lots of soothing before Samantha got out her story.
    “Last night was terrible. I was angry at him for bothering you, and we fought. He can be so mean and nasty when he wants to be. So today, I was home, of course, and I wanted to try some recipes. He came in all sugar and nice like he could make up for being a jerk, loaded down with presents we can’t afford. You know he hasn’t worked in months, so I have no idea where he got the money.
    “Then he asked me to bake him some of those brownies he loves so much. He’s diabetic, Miss Belle, you know that. I shouldn’t have made them. I know he drinks, he forgets to take his medicine, but I was so tired of our fights. I made them just to shut him up.”
    Her voice sounded so fragile, her eyes huge in her tear-stained face. “I even put extra sugar in them and lots of chocolate. Then I took a whole plateful to him. He sat there eating brownies all afternoon and drinking beer. I left to pick up the kids, and…and…”
    Samantha trembled. “When I came back, he was dead. I called the ambulance but it was too late. I killed him with brownies!” A fervent hardness flickered in her eyes that surprised Rae. “And I’m glad.” Then the cook burst into tears again and buried her face against the old woman’s shoulder. “I didn’t know where else to go!”
    Sick to her stomach, Rae stood in the silly white dress wondering if in a few years, she would have been driven to kill Richard to get rid of him. If she hadn’t finally resorted to divorce, would she have done something as drastic? Yeah, she decided, remembering the rage that had pulsed in her when he’d hit her. If she’d had a gun in the house, she’d have shot him right there in her kitchen.
    What was it about kitchens and domestic disturbances, anyway?
    Miss Belle patted the other woman on the back soothingly. “Of course you’re glad, Samantha. He saved you the trouble of having to divorce his ass by croaking.” She tilted the woman’s face up to her and wiped her tears. “Now you go home to those precious children.
    Don’t say a word. If the police question you, tell the truth. You made brownies, left to get the children, came home, and found him.”
    “That’s all?”
    “That’s the truth, isn’t it?” Miss Belle smiled that shark smile again that gave Rae chills.
    “You did not kill your