Mike Bodine was only 18, but had always enjoyed writing. To make extra money for college he had been doing freelance work, but his dream was to write for a publication like the N. Y. Times or the Washington Post.
In his small town, there weren't many opportunities for good stories, but that didn't stop him from trying. One day he was reading the local newspaper and read a story about a prominent local banker, Charlie Campbell, who was found dead in his office. The police labeled it suspicious, but there were no suspects.
The feeling around town was that his wife, Tapi, was involved. A former Las Vegas showgirl who was 20 years younger than her husband and loved to flaunt her wealth, she stood to gain the bulk of her husband's multi-million dollar estate. There was also talk that he had tired of her spending habits and wanted a divorce.
She refused to give any interviews and always referred any inquiries to her lawyer. Mike smiled to himself when he realized how much he could make if he could get an interview. Instead of calling, he decided he would have a better chance if he showed up in person.
Walking up to the old, Victorian house, Mike admired the well-manicured lawn and garden. He lifted the antique brass knocker and knocked several times. He was a little nervous as he waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of someone peeking through the lace curtains, and then disappearing.
The door opened slowly and a plump, but attractive middle-aged woman appeared, looking puzzled. "I guess you're not the delivery guy," she said disappointingly.
"My name is Mike Bodine," said Mike, shrugging his shoulders.
"What can I do for you Mike Bodine, she said smiling?"
"I'm a freelance writer and I would like to talk to you about your husband's death." At that she began to close the door when Mike shouted "PLEASE" The door closed in his face, but he kept talking, hoping she would hear him. "Mrs. Tyler, I just want to get your side of the story."
There was only silence. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I don't believe you did it!" Five minutes passed, and then Mike came to the conclusion that he blew it and slowly descended the steps.
As he went down the walkway he froze in his tracks as he heard, "wait Mr. Bodine!"
Mike returned to the door quickly, trying not to look too anxious. "Do you really believe I didn't do it," she said softly. "Come in," she beckoned, leading him into the living room before he had a chance to respond.
As Mike followed, he couldn't help but notice the way her full hips swayed beneath the flowered dress she wore.. He guessed that she was about 5' 7", which was short compared to his 6' 4" frame.
He sat upon a loveseat while she settled into a matching easy chair. Mike glanced at her large breasts which he assumed were probably a product of plastic surgery along with her face which was much smoother than one would expect on a woman of 45 years.
