Friends, relatives, and neighbors filled the venue, voices heavy with emotion.
“Edmund planned this whole banquet a month ago. Such a shame he passed away before it happened.”
“Every detail—every dish, every banner—was arranged by him.”
“He and Evelaine raised Candace with only one dream: to see her get into a good university. He must be smiling down from heaven.”
The banquet was lavish, but my mother-in-law and sister-in-law sat in silence, still weighed down by yesterday’s events.
When I arrived, my daughter—pale, with dark circles under her eyes—rushed to me.
“Mom, tell me… why did you send Tilly to the dog meat restaurant? Was it because of Dad?”
I nodded.
My mother-in-law’s brows knit together.
“What does that have to do with my son?”
Then her eyes widened, a spark of realization.
“You… you know something about Edmund’s death?”
My sister-in-law seized my arm.
“If you know anything, you have to tell us! My brother died so horribly—the police never found the killer!”
Others nearby began to gather, faces tense with anticipation.
Under their collective gaze, I took out my phone and dialed.
“Hello, police? I want to turn myself in.
I’ve committed murder. The victim’s name is Edmund Carroway.”