I spent years trying to make something of myself. Diane continued, “I married twice, both disasters. I worked jobs that went nowhere. I watched you living in that beautiful house with your perfect husband while I scraped by in apartments and trailers and whatever else I could afford. I would have helped you if you’d asked. I didn’t want your help. Diane’s voice rose sharply, then fell back to that cold monotone. I didn’t want your charity. I wanted what was mine, what should have been mine from the beginning.
So, you framed me for murder. That was your solution. Diane was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost thoughtful. Gerald was my way out. He was rich, successful, willing to leave his wife for me. We had plans, Maggie. real plans. He was going to divorce his wife, liquidate his assets, and we were going to start over somewhere new together. But something went wrong, Jessica said. It was the first time she’d spoken since they sat down.
Diane glanced at her, then back at Margaret. His wife found out about us. Threatened to take him for everything in the divorce. Gerald panicked, said he couldn’t leave her after all. Said it was too risky, too expensive. Diane’s expression hardened. He was going to abandon me just like everyone else. So, you killed him, Margaret said. I did what I had to do. Diane’s voice was matter of fact, like she was discussing the weather. Gerald had a life insurance policy, $2 million, and I knew about the secondary beneficiary clause.
I’d helped him set it up. Actually, all I had to do was make sure his wife couldn’t collect by framing her for his murder. That was the original plan. Yes, but his wife had an alibi. She was at a charity gala the night Gerald died. Hundreds of witnesses. Diane shrugged. I needed another scapegoat. Someone without an alibi. Someone the police would believe could do something like this. Me? You. Diane met Margaret’s eyes without flinching. I knew you’d come running if I showed up crying.
You always did. And I knew you’d do anything to protect me. So I gave you the flash drive. I gave you the evidence. And then I tipped off the police about where to look. The handwriting on those documents forged. I spent months practicing your handwriting. You used to send me birthday cards, Christmas cards, letters. When I was going through my divorces, I had plenty of samples to work from. The money from my bank account. I had a power of attorney.
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