Chapter 32The shot rang out just as her dishwasher ended its cycle. Alice Martin lifted her head.
What was it? The muffled sound was loud enough to startle her. Was it really a gunshot? Or was it just a car backfiring? Alice walked to the front of the house and looked out of her window. Pulling aside the curtains, she looked across the street at Dwight Morris’s house.
The house was dark, its blackened windows keeping a silent vigil on the moonlit street outside. But Alice had seen Morris pull into his garage earlier.
She picked up the phone and called her son, Frank. Without preamble, she said, “I just heard what sounded like gunfire. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if it came from that weirdo’s house across the street.” Alice shivered. “That Dwight Morris gives me the creeps.”
“A gunsho
