Chicken
1/1
I was sitting there at dinner. It was a normal night. A normal dinner. But it wasn't a normal day. It didn't have normal events. My grandmother had died. Now, they said she died naturally. But I knew better then that. She was 55 years old, and the healthiest woman I know.
Murder? Was my sweet little grandmother murdered? Who would do such a thing? Why? How?
I replayed her day in my mind. Since, I did hang out with her all day. Her day consisted of: Waking up and feeling fine. She got dressed into her best dress. Always thinking she needed to dress up for me. She was even better then, practically skipping in happiness. Then she was hyper, from the coffee. We sat there talking the rest of the day, uneventful. That couldn't have done anything. Then we went to my favorite ice cream parlor, obviously to get ice cream. We shared a bowl, so it would have killed me also. That is no help.
I was about to put my last thing on my plate into my mouth, chicken. But then I dropped it and gasped. Could if have been the chicken? I thought back, dinner was ready when we got back from ice cream. But I was full, therefore taking none. Eating my dinner now. But grams ate her dinner, well the chicken at least, she didn't like anything else. Then a little later she was feeling well.
Was it the chicken?
Who made the chicken?
I rushed into my grandmothers kitchen.
"How may I help you, Beth?" one of the cooks asked.
"Who made the chicken?" I asked, trying to seem like I was just simply wondering.
"I did," Andrew said walking from the closet.
He hated my grandmother...
********
The tests came back. My grandmother had died from a substance in the chicken, that Andrew processed. He was questioned and pleaded guilty.
Well this was a normal week. I am the new Nancy Drew solving mysteries. Maybe I should have friends kill someone so I could find out which did? What? Don't look at me like that! I am not going insane without my grandmother.
Murder? Was my sweet little grandmother murdered? Who would do such a thing? Why? How?
I replayed her day in my mind. Since, I did hang out with her all day. Her day consisted of: Waking up and feeling fine. She got dressed into her best dress. Always thinking she needed to dress up for me. She was even better then, practically skipping in happiness. Then she was hyper, from the coffee. We sat there talking the rest of the day, uneventful. That couldn't have done anything. Then we went to my favorite ice cream parlor, obviously to get ice cream. We shared a bowl, so it would have killed me also. That is no help.
I was about to put my last thing on my plate into my mouth, chicken. But then I dropped it and gasped. Could if have been the chicken? I thought back, dinner was ready when we got back from ice cream. But I was full, therefore taking none. Eating my dinner now. But grams ate her dinner, well the chicken at least, she didn't like anything else. Then a little later she was feeling well.
Was it the chicken?
Who made the chicken?
I rushed into my grandmothers kitchen.
"How may I help you, Beth?" one of the cooks asked.
"Who made the chicken?" I asked, trying to seem like I was just simply wondering.
"I did," Andrew said walking from the closet.
He hated my grandmother...
********
The tests came back. My grandmother had died from a substance in the chicken, that Andrew processed. He was questioned and pleaded guilty.
Well this was a normal week. I am the new Nancy Drew solving mysteries. Maybe I should have friends kill someone so I could find out which did? What? Don't look at me like that! I am not going insane without my grandmother.