The last twenty-four hours in Connecticut had proven to be informative … and startling.
Lounging in the kitchen nook later that night, after Lewis et al had departed, Aunt Mat casually delivered a confession that held the impact of a glide bomb. She"d done the deadly deeds: killed Moone family members.
She"dRey, Linda and I could have used spatulas to scrape our jaws off the table while Aunt Mat hadn"t seemed the least bit upset or traumatized or repentant. The statement was as smooth as the liqueur-laced cocoa we were indulging in. “By the way girls, I"m the one who dethroned those Moones.” Then the grande dame explained how she"d set up Linda.
John had died nearly seven years ago. He fell off (jumped off or was pushed off) Portland"s Casco Bay Bridge and into the Fore River. Linda"s r
