As Angelina was trying to dissolve her shock, a car pulled up and a tall, high school aged guy who bore a striking resemblance to Ringo Starr, jumped out. He seemed to know what he was doing. He checked Mrs. McJunkin’s pulse and instructed Tessa to call 911.
While we were all waiting for the ambulance to arrive, Ringo was chafing Mrs. McJunkin’s wrists and trying CPR.
When the ambulance finally pulled up, Mrs. McJunkin was turning blue. Two paramedics dressed in scrubs put her onto a stretcher and guided her into the back of the ambulance. She was whisked away and the sirens lit up as the vehicle moved up the street in the opposite direction of Angelina’s house.
Angelina was home alone the next day when the phone rang. It was a rainy Wednesday morning and she was home alone, since her parents were working. The voice on the other end was Mr. McJunkin. His voice sounded a little shaky as he told his neighbor the news. Mrs. McJunkin didn’t make it.
Angelina fought back sobs and tried to swallow the lump in her throat but to no avail. As soon as she said goodbye and hung up the phone, she went upstairs, dove under the covers on her bed, and cried. She stayed there for a long time.
When Angelina finally decided it was time to get up, she walked downstairs to the kitchen to fix herself a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. She remembered Mr. McJunkin saying that she could go next door and pick out some of Mrs. McJunkin’s possessions that she wanted to salvage. Mr. McJunkin was making a trip to the Salvation Army the next morning. He said he couldn’t bear to be around all her things when she could no longer be around to enjoy them.
Once she had finished the last of her sandwich, Angelina dropped the plate in the dishwasher, ran a comb quickly through her hair, and walked onto the porch next door. She rang the doorbell but knew that no one would answer. Mrs. McJunkin was the one who always greeted the guests. Her husband couldn’t care less. In the end, Angelina just walked right in.
The house felt strangely empty without Mrs. McJunkin inside. It shouldn’t have felt empty. Since Mrs. McJunkin had gone to California, Angelina had come over three days a week to help Mr. McJunkin with the cleaning. The house didn’t feel empty then but there was something very different about it now.
Just then, Mr. McJunkin walked down the stairs and said hi to Angelina. He had been nicer to her since she had been helping him clean his house. He was almost charming now.
This day in particular, though, the man looked like something was bothering him…something other than the death of his wife.
“Yes, Mr. McJunkin?”
“You’re going to think this is crazy but I need to tell you something…” His sentence trailed off.
“What is it?”
“Mrs. McJunkin’s death wasn’t just an accident. I have reason to believe she was murdered.”
Angelina froze, too shocked to say another word