Who Killed Granny? by Stephanie Villegas

Release date: January 5, 2018

Subgenre: Crime short

About Who Killed Granny? 

 

When Barbara Smythe finds her grandmother unconscious and sprawled out on the sofa, she suspects foul play. Worried the attacker will come after her next, Barbara rushes around Los Angeles in a desperate attempt to find and warn her twin sister of the peril they face. With the killer hot on her trail, she must race against the clock to discover who killed Granny and bring them to justice.

Excerpt:

 

I’​d​ ​spent​ ​the​ ​last​ ​hour​ ​weaving through​ L.A. ​traffic,​ ​speeding​ ​to ​ ​get home.​ ​The​ ​sun​ ​had​ ​already​ started to ​set​ ​and​ ​with​ ​the ​ ​power​ ​outages​ we’d been having,​ ​I​ ​didn’t​ ​want​ ​to​ ​risk leaving​ ​Granny​ ​alone​ ​in​ ​the​ ​dark. 

When​ ​I​ ​got​ ​home,​ ​the​ ​front​ ​door​ ​was​ ​already​ ​unlocked.​ ​An​ ​eerie​ ​ feeling​ ​settled​ ​in​ ​my belly.​ I​ ​didn’t​ ​want​ ​to​ ​assume​ ​the ​ ​worst,​ ​but​ ​as​ ​I​ ​ran​ ​inside​ ​my​ ​mind​ ​raced.​

​I ​ ​told​ ​myself​ ​our​ ​nosy​ ​neighbor​ ​Mrs.​ ​Biederhof​ ​might have​ ​stopped ​ ​by​ ​earlier​ ​and​ ​Granny probably​ ​forgot​ ​to​ ​lock​ ​it.​ ​Or ​ ​perhaps​ ​I’d​ ​forgotten​ ​to​ ​lock​ ​it.​ ​Only,​ ​it​ ​couldn’t​ ​have ​ ​been​ ​that—I distinctly​ ​remembered​ ​jostling​ ​the​ ​locked​ ​knob​ ​to​ ​check​ ​before​ ​heading​ ​to​ ​the​ ​office​ ​this morning.​ One​ ​by​ ​one,​ ​ I flicked​ ​on​ ​the​ ​lights​ ​switches,​​ ​calling​ ​out​ ​“Granny?”​ ​The​ ​ house​ ​was​ ​silent.​ ​My heart​ ​began​ ​pounding​ ​as​ ​I​ ​continued​ ​my ​ ​search​ ​for​ ​her.

I​ ​burst​ ​into​ ​the ​ ​parlor​ ​and​ ​immediately​ ​saw​ ​her​ ​curled​ ​up​ ​on​ ​the​ ​couch​ ​ with​ ​a​ ​crocheted afghan​ ​pulled​ ​up​ ​to​ ​her​ ​neck.​ ​With​ ​every​ ​ step,​ ​my​ ​dread​ ​melted​ ​away.​ ​I​ ​sighed.​ ​“You​ ​gave​ ​me quite ​ ​a​ ​fright,​ ​Granny.​ ​I​ ​thought​ ​something​ ​was​ ​really​ ​wrong.”

Before ​ ​I​ ​could​ ​wake​ ​her,​ ​the​ ​lights​ ​went​ ​out.​ I​ ​groaned​ ​and​ ​ softly​ ​announced,​ ​“I’ll​ ​be right​ ​back.”

After​ ​ lighting​ ​the​ ​fireplace​ ​in​ ​the​ ​parlor,​ ​I​ ​felt​ ​around​ ​in​ ​ the​ ​dark,​ ​shuffling​ ​towards​ ​the linen​ ​closet​ ​with​ ​outstretched arms.

I​ ​ hesitated​ ​in​ ​the​ ​darkness,​ ​but​ ​found​ ​my​ ​way​ ​without​ ​much​ ​ difficulty.​ ​I’d​ ​lived​ ​in​ ​that house​ ​nearly​ ​my​ ​entire​ ​life. ​ ​I​ ​knew​ ​every​ ​step​ ​and​ ​shelf​ ​in​ ​the​ ​home.​ ​Though​ ​our ​ ​budget​ ​had shrunk​ ​in​ ​recent​ ​years,​ ​every​ ​rug,​ ​candlestick,​ ​and​ ​piece​ ​of​ ​furniture​ ​remained​ ​as​ ​it​ ​had​ ​for​ ​the last​ ​ three​ ​decades.​ ​To​ ​say​ ​my​ ​grandmother​ ​was​ ​a​ ​creature​ ​of​ ​ habit​ ​would​ ​be​ ​a​ ​gross understatement.

From​ ​ the​ ​closet​ ​beside​ ​the​ ​staircase,​ ​I​ ​grabbed​ ​a​ ​thick​ ​wool blanket​ ​to​ ​keep​ ​Granny warm.​ ​According​ ​to​ ​some​ ​of​ ​the ​ ​ladies​ ​in​ ​the​ ​office,​ ​there​ ​was​ ​supposed​ ​to​ ​be​ ​a​ ​terrible ​ ​storm​ ​on its​ ​way.

I ​ ​stumbled​ ​to​ ​the​ ​kitchen​ ​where​ ​I​ ​lit​ ​a​ ​small​ ​candelabra ​ ​off​ ​the​ ​stove.​ ​I​ ​fetched​ ​a​ ​clean glass​ ​from​ ​the​ ​shelf​ ​and​ ​ turned​ ​on​ ​the​ ​sink.​ ​The​ ​water​ ​glided​ ​over​ ​my​ ​fingers​ ​ while​ ​I​ ​waited​ ​for it​ ​to​ ​run​ ​cold.

There were​ ​dirty​ ​dishes​ ​in​ ​the​ ​sink—​ ​not​ ​one,​ ​but​ ​two​ ​teacups, saucers,​ ​and​ ​spoons.​ ​With the​ ​tap​ ​still​ ​running,​ ​I​ ​picked​ ​ up​ ​one​ ​of​ ​the​ ​cups,​ ​turning​ ​it​ ​over​ ​in​ ​my​ ​hands.​ ​Coral​ ​ lipstick stained​ ​the​ ​rim.​ ​Someone​ ​ had​ ​come​ ​to​ ​visit.

I​ ​ filled​ ​the​ ​glass​ ​with​ ​water​ ​and​ ​set​ ​the​ ​teacup​ ​back​ ​in​ ​ the​ ​sink.​ ​I​ ​told​ ​myself​ ​​that​ ​was why​ ​the​ ​front​ ​door​ ​had​ ​ been​ ​unlocked.​ ​Granny​ ​had​ ​had​ ​company.​ ​It​ ​wasn’t​ ​unheard​ ​ of,​ ​but​ ​it​ ​had been​ ​rare​ ​for​ ​her​ ​to​ ​invite​ ​anyone​ ​in,​ ​ even​ ​before​ ​she​ ​became​ ​so​ ​forgetful.

When​ ​I​ ​returned​ ​to​ ​the​ ​parlor,​ ​I​ ​placed​ ​the​ ​water​ ​glass​ ​on ​ ​the​ ​end​ ​table​ ​beside​ ​an​ ​open prescription​ ​bottle. Granny​ ​ wasn’t​ ​supposed​ ​to​ ​take​ ​any​ ​medicine​ ​on​ ​her​ ​own.

Amazon

About Stephanie Villegas:

STEPHANIE VILLEGAS is a ghostwriter and author living in California. She attended UCSD where she developed a deep interest in both culture and literature. Her work is currently published at Postcard Shorts, Horror Tree Magazine, and Amazon. When she isn't watching Film Noir, or listening to jazz, she blogs about all things fiction at Easy Peasy Fiction. For more information about her upcoming books and giveaways, follow her on  Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.