Words for Wednesday 2/20/19

This month's Words for Wednesday are hosted by River at Drifting through life. Go visit her to enjoy how others are using the words and take part if you wish. It's fun.

1. bathroom*
2. parasol*
3. furniture*
4. duck*
5. phone*
6. puzzle*

and/or:

1. wade*
2. grim*
3. barge*
4. sporadic*
5. pizza*
6. burial*

Aunt Rose was old, yes, but they hadn't expected her to die in such an embarrassing way. And far too soon. A painting she was working on in her studio unfinished on the easel. And poor thing, there she was, stuck behind the toilet in the tiny bathroom, unable to get up, her trusty hand-painted cane underneath her, one wrist broken, her legs twisted at an awkward angle. A wretched ending, Jane thought, blinking tears back, easing the lump from her throat, huddled into her raincoat at the grave site.

She left her niece Jane and her nephew Clive to share a sizable estate, land, house, furniture, jewelry. Clive's visits to their aunt were sporadic at best, though Rose tried to drive out there every week and share a pizza or lasagna with her and would also phone her every Wednesday morning. Still, she had lain there for about 5 days before she was found by her gardener.

It was raining heavily in the graveyard, Clive ducked under Jane's parasol. Not a great day for a burial, she thought, watching the undertakers lower the casket.

"Oops," said Clive,"Isn't that the cop who interviewed everyone after she was found? What a grim bastard. Barging in here, on top of our grief."

Jane had never liked her cousin Clive. A history of bankruptcies and drugs and divorces. Grief? she thought. He'd always mocked the old lady. Borrowed from her, mooched food and lodging periodically from her. Aunt Rose had cut him off about a month ago.

Inspector Barnes waded his way slowly across wet graves and mucky paths and stood in front of them both.

"There was a puzzle," he said without preamble, "A real puzzle we've now solved."

Clive pushed himself closer to Jane as she tried to pull away.

"We had your aunt's cane in for analysis."

They waited.

"And that poor woman, as she lay dying," and here the inspector looked sharply at Clive,"Took a pencil out of her pocket and guess what she wrote in tiny print on that cane?"

Clive abruptly pushed Jane to the ground, grabbed her umbrella and hit Barnes in the face with it and took off down the hill to the graveyard entrance where two constables emerged from behind the gate pillars and slammed him against the wall and handcuffed him.

"Well," said Jane to Inspector Barnes as he pulled her to her feet,"Good for Aunt Rose. Clever woman."

And she threw a long look at the handsome inspector who still had her hands in his and then he slowly dropped them without removing his gaze from hers.

"I'll need to interview you again," he said, "At your convenience."

And, ah yes, maybe there was another gift from Aunt Rose waiting to be unwrapped.
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