She wore a short, black dress and her hair was done nicely. Her makeup was almost perfect. But something was off. Something didn't match. Was it her shoes? They seemed fine but one was missing. It was her necklace.
The overly chunky necklace seemed out of place on such a small woman. Strangle marks peered out from underneath it. A shovel was found feet away from the wheelbarrow.
That fall afternoon we didn't find the killer. He knew we were onto him. But we haven't given up hope. We're still onto him.
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