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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “At the Zoo” Down in the Dirt v210 (8/23)  Order the paperback book: 
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The Mysterious Matter of the Fortuitous Forecast
John Ragusa
Trapworth was shaving as I dusted the furniture. The buzzer rang. I went to answer the door.
Inspector Heathfield was there, big as life. Trapworth, a former boxer, and I, his butler Joseph, were used to seeing him.
“How nice to encounter you again,” I told him.
“Likewise, Joseph,” he said. “You probably know why I’m here.”
“I do. Come inside.”
The Inspector entered the foyer. Trapworth emerged from the bathroom. He’d finished shaving and was wiping his face. “Hi there. What’s up?”
“Another homicide,” Heathfield said.
“Let’s be seated and hear all about it.”
We sat down in the den, and Heathfield related the case.
“I believe that Francis Molten murdered his wife. Neighbors of the late Joyce Molten said she never gave her spouse any peace. She chewed him out day and night about virtually everything he said and did. Last night, she was stabbed to death.”
“Were there any prints on the knife?” I asked.
“No. Molten must have wiped it clean after he used it.”
“Go on,” Trapworth said.
“We found the victim’s blood on Molten’s shirt. That’s very solid evidence. But he claimed that it was his blood on the fabric. Earlier, he had accidentally cut himself on the arm while cleaning some fish, or so he said. His blood type matches that of Mrs. Molten, so it checks out. Besides, he has an airtight alibi for the murder.”
“Tell us about this alibi.”
“Molten said that he was having dinner at some friends’ house at the time of the slaying. Their names are Denny and Mariel Parazzi, and they confirmed that Molten was there when his spouse was killed. Molten supposedly found Mrs. Molten dead when he returned home. He also told me that some jewelry was missing, so robbery had to be the killer’s motive.” Heathfield snorted. “Wouldn’t you know that the Parazzis would have to live in Pinetree County? When I went there to question them, it was still hailing heavily from the night before, and it did expensive damage to my car.”
“I heard about that on the TV weather report last evening,” I mentioned. “It was lucky for Trapworth that it didn’t hail here in Barksville, too, or his automobile would have been dented.”
“It might be a coincidence, but Molten lives not far from here in Barksville,” Heathfield said.
A light seemed to go on in Trapworth’s head.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I just thought of something that might be important. We have to go on over to Molten’s house.”
We all left for the Molten residence.
