Sins and Needles by Monica Ferris

Funeral Home contacted the police when Mr. Huber found evidence that Ms. Hanraty’s death occurred under unusual circumstances.”
    Susan nodded. “Yes, I know.”
    His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “How do you know that?”
    â€œThe medical examiner’s office called me to say Mr. Huber found something little and sharp, like a needle, stuck in the back of her head. He said that the funeral should be put off because there was to be an—an autopsy. Has there—have they finished it already?”
    â€œYes, and we have the preliminary results. I’m very sorry, but it appears your aunt was murdered.”
    Susan leaned back in the chair. “I was afraid you were going to tell me that. But are you absolutely sure? I was thinking that maybe she fell. You know, and a nail or a needle was in the carpet, and she fell on it, and—and she didn’t know it was serious. And she went to bed with just a headache and died in her sleep.”
    â€œNo, ma’am. For one thing, it wasn’t a nail, or a needle. For another, it went right into her brain, killing her instantly.”
    She blinked at him, shocked.
    He held up a hand to forestall a response. “I’m sorry. But what that also means is that she didn’t suffer. There was no evidence of a struggle, and the medical examiner told me that it happened very quickly, between one breath and the next. A little poke, and she was gone.”
    â€œOh. I…I see.” Susan swallowed and clenched her hands shut, surprised to find one of them crumpling the card. She began to smooth it out with her fingers. “Still, it’s so horrible. And you think it might be murder? I don’t see how—I mean, who would have done such a thing? And why?”
    â€œWell, that’s where I come in. I’m going to see if I can figure it out. And I’m hoping you can help me.”
    He seemed in earnest, so her response was sincere. “Of course, if I can.”
    â€œFirst of all, I’m trying to understand the family. Who’s who, and how they’re related. May I ask you some questions about that?”
    â€œAll right, I’ll tell you whatever I can.”
    â€œGood, thank you.” He reached into an inside pocket and came up with an absurdly tiny notebook and a ballpoint pen. “Your aunt never married, is that correct?”
    â€œYes, that’s right,” she said.
    â€œSo she left no children?”
    â€œOf course not! I mean…I suppose in this day and age that’s not an impertinent question, but it certainly was in hers. My goodness, to think of Aunt Edyth—” Susan had to pause a few moments, torn between indignation and laughter, before she could continue. “Her only immediate relative was a sister, Alice, who died nine years back. Alice was my mother.”
    â€œAnd your father?”
    â€œWas Dr. John O’Neil, also deceased. They had three children, a daughter named Margaret, who died very young, me, and a son, Stewart.” She spoke slowly, watching the detective write this down in his tiny notebook. “My husband was David McConnell, and we had three children: Jason, Julie, who died young, and Jan. My brother, Stewart, married Terri Pepperdyne, and they have four girls: Katie, Alexandra, Bernie—Bernadette, but no one calls her that—and CeeCee—Cecilia. My daughter, Jan, is married to Dr. Harvey Henderson. They have two boys, Reese and Ronnie. My son, Jason, is currently divorced and has no children. The oldest of Stewart and Terri’s children is married to Perry Frazier; that’s Katie, who just turned twenty-one.”
    â€œAnd all these people except your parents are alive?” asked Sgt. Rice.
    â€œNo, my husband is also deceased.”
    â€œI’m sorry to hear that.”
    â€œThank you.” Susan gave a grave nod. Though it had been nearly ten years since Dave had collapsed at the office, she still