I'm still here!

So wow this is really super late but I am posting the last part of my murder story. If you didn't read the first two parts, they are in the posts below.

 “Hey, come on in Detective Reynolds,” Karen greeted me. I walked into her apartment for the third time in a week.

“I’m sorry for bothering you again. My phone must have fallen out of my jacket.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Karen assured me. I had to be up and about anyway. The maintenance man is coming to fix my toilet.”

“Oh great. I must have broken that too,” I thought to myself. It must have shown on my face because Karen said,

“It wasn’t your fault. It just started this morning. I flushed and it won’t stop running. I’m not very  handy around the house so hopefully this guy can fix it for me.”

  As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and Karen hurried to answer it. She opened it to reveal a well built man with tan skin and dark hair carrying a bucket full of tools.

“Hola. Dónde está el baño?”

  Karen stood there and gave him a blank stare.

“Um…yo quiero Taco Bell?” she said with a laugh, and looked across the room at me. I smiled awkwardly. The maintenance man looked very confused.

“He said hi and asked where your bathroom is,” I explained.

“Of course,” Karen agreed. She pointed down the hall. “That way,” she yelled. The man stared at her for a second, then made his way down the hall with his tools.

“These people should really learn English if they’re going to live in America,” she said, shutting the door. I nodded and smiled.

“Well I don’t want to bother you anymore. I’ll just grab my phone and be on my way.”

“Oh right,” Karen said, grabbing my phone off her coffee table.

“How is the investigation going?”

“Pretty well. Hopefully we will have enough evidence for a conviction soon.”

“Good,” Karen said firmly. “I will feel so much better knowing Carrie’s killer has been brought to justice.”

“So will I,” I assured her. Karen opened the door for me and we waved at each other as I left. I stood in the hallway for a second looking through my phone. Only a few missed calls and no new texts. I stuck it in my pocket and pushed the button for the elevator. As I waited, I could not get rid of this nagging feeling. Something about my visit to Karen Smith did not feel right. I pushed the button again and waited impatiently for the elevator to come. I needed to get back to the office and my investigation.

  I knocked on Karen Smith’s door for what seemed like the hundredth time. I heard scuffling inside the apartment then the knob turned and the door opened. Karen looked surprised to see me.

 “Hello, Detective. Can I help you?”

“I just wanted to let you know how the case is going. May I come in for a second?”

“Of course,” Karen said, not sounding too thrilled. She stepped back to let me in. I heard the door shut behind me. I walked through the living room to stand in front of the picture of Karen we’d talked about the last time I was here.

“So did you find the killer yet?”

 I turned to smile at Karen.

“I really do love this picture. It’s from Spain you said?”

“Yes. I spent a semester there,” Karen answered, tilting her head slightly and looking puzzled.

“So I guess you spoke a lot of Spanish.”

“Naturally,” Karen said.

“So how is it that someone who spent months in Spain speaking Spanish would not understand when her maintenance man asked where her bathroom is?”

“Um…what?”

“The other day when I came to get my phone your maintenance man came to fix your toilet and when he spoke Spanish to you, you didn’t understand it. In fact you got upset at him for daring to speak his native language.”

“What does this have to do with the case?” Karen asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

“A lot as it turns out,” I told her. “It seemed strange to me that you couldn’t remember such a simple Spanish phrase and that you seemed to despise the entire language. So when I got back to work I did some research into Karen Smith.”

“And what did you find out about me?”

 I smiled.

“Well the first thing I found out is that you’re not Karen Smith.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am.”

“No, because as it turns out, Karen Smith is out west with her fiancé doing volunteer work in a town that was ripped apart by a tornado. She has been there for the past week. I called her work to confirm and when I called her, she told me her sister was taking care of her apartment while she was gone. Her twin sister, Kaitlin. I’m guessing that’s you.”

 Kaitlin Smith shrugged.

“So what if it is? Are you going to arrest me for pretending to be my sister?”

“No. I’m going to arrest you for the murder of Carrie Wilson.”

 “What are you talking about? Carrie’s death was a suicide. I found the body myself. The gun was in her hand.”

“Of course it was. You put it there.”

  Kaitlin smiled nervously.

“Is this a joke, Detective?” she asked, squirming in her armchair.

“I wish it was but no. We were all ready to rule Ms. Wilson’s death a suicide until we found a shell under the couch with fingerprints on it that were not hers.”

“And so you assume they are mine?”

  I shook my head.

“We don’t have to assume, Miss Smith. We know. Thanks to this,” I said, pulling out my cell phone.

“The fingerprints we got off the shell are a perfect match for your prints we got off of my phone.”

  Kaitlin stared at me not saying anything.

“What I can’t figure out is why you would kill Ms. Wilson. She was your twin sister’s best friend and-“

“I am her best friend!” Kaitlin snapped, shooting up from her chair. I took a step back.

“I was the one who made her feel better when the kids at school teased her for her braces. I was the one who took care of her when she twisted her ankle playing soccer. I was the one who held here while she cried over her first break-up. And who is Carrie? Some girl she met at a party. She means nothing.”

“She obviously meant something to your sister.”

“Carrie was trying to take Karen away from me. I had to stop her.”

  My eyes widened. Kaitlin was confessing to the murder.

“I didn’t even have to try to befriend her. She welcomed me with open arms. Karen introduced us since she wanted both of us to be maids of honor in her wedding. So Carrie gave me a spare key to her apartment so if I wanted to come by and do wedding stuff while she wasn’t home, I could. That gave me time to find the murder weapon,” she said, giving me a chilling smile. Her eyes had a faraway look. It was as if she was a completely different person.

“People should really keep their guns in a safe, not a dresser drawer,” she advised. I thought briefly of my own gun which I often kept in the drawer of my bedside table.

“So you waited until she got home and shot her in cold blood?” I asked, chills running down my spine. I was having a conversation with an actual killer.

“Not right away. I wanted her to know what she had done wrong first.”

“And by wrong you mean being friends with your sister?”

“I mean trying to steal her away from me. Trying to take my place as number one in Karen’s life. I should be the only one standing up next to Karen when she gets married.”

“So you shot her and then called the police claiming to have found her already dead?”
“Yes. And then I added the extra touch of pretending to be Karen. In case some nosy detective starting getting suspicious and looking for a killer, no one would suspect the victim’s best friend.”

“You do look exactly like her,” I admitted.

“Even our parents still mistake us for each other occasionally,” Kaitlin told me.

“So you planned the perfect crime.”

“It was perfect,” Kaitlin agreed. “Now that Carrie Wilson is gone, I will be the only maid of honor at my sister’s wedding.”

  I tilted my head and gave Kaitlin a confused look.

“You won’t be at your sister’s wedding. You’ll be in jail.”

“Karen won’t let me go to jail,” Kaitlin argued, her eyes going wide again. I reached for my handcuffs.

“This is just a bump in the road.”
“We have evidence against you.”

“Evidence can disappear,” Kaitlin said simply. “People have gotten away with a lot more than murder. And I know Karen will do anything to keep me from going to prison. She loves me.”

  I stood speechless not sure what I could say to someone who thought her sister would defend the murder of her best friend.

“Would you like to cuff me now?” Kaitlin asked, putting her hands behind her back. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water.

“It’s ok. I won’t fight you. I don’t need to. Karen will save me,” Kaitlin said, smiling and turning around so her back faced me.

  As I put the cuffs on her wrists and informed Kaitlin of her rights, I thought about my first case. I had not expected it to end like this. I had pictured myself riding off into the sunset with my sunglasses on feeling like a hero for solving a crime and keeping the world safe. Instead, I was leading a completely docile suspect out of her sister’s apartment and down the hall where my favorite officer and a couple of his colleagues stood waiting for me.

“Looks like she is going along with this whole thing,” the officer said. “Did she admit anything to you?”

“Yes, I got a whole confession,” I muttered, watching as two policemen took both of her arms and led her down the stairs.

“Good job, Detective. I am glad you’re on our team now,” the officer said, giving me a friendly smile and a pat on the back. It was the first time he had said something nice to me that did not sound patronizing. I followed him down the stairs feeling a little better about myself. Maybe I could save the world after all.