The Original Alibi

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“I believe that’s your phone, dear,” the woman’s husband said. She stopped walking and fished her cell from the pocket of her windbreaker.

“Hello, Mrs. Yarbrough,” said a voice into her ear. “I see you are enjoying your first early evening walk on the beach with your new puppy. She’s such a cutie. Have you and Mr. Yarbrough named the pooch?”

“Who is this?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you stay on the line after what is about to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Yarbrough demanded, “Who are you?”

The leash Mrs. Yarbrough held went limp. Her white poodle slumped to the sand. “Robbie, what happened? Snookie is, I don’t know, she’s just … down.” Mrs. Yarbrough held her cell phone as if she no longer knew she had it in her hand.

Robert, her husband, bent down. His knees displaced the sand next to Snookie. “She’s dead, Mel. I think Snookie’s been shot.”

Melanie Yarbrough began bouncing on her toes, frantically waving her hands. She dropped her phone onto the beach, then bent down next to her husband and touched Snookie. He took her in his arms while she sobbed softly.

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