Here’s the thing: I’m the one who sweated through the police academy. I passed the firearms test and aced the grueling physical – everything the guys could do, I had to do too. I logged those long hours on the beat and sweated through the sergeant’s exam. And of course, I am also the officer who took the forensics courses and survived my share of autopsy viewings. I am a detective in the Major Crimes Unit of the Woodbridge Police. Me. Sergeant Pepper Monahan. I have the rank, the equipment, the training. I am the real deal.
My point? It’s this: if you stumble on a body in Woodbridge New York, call 911. That’s right. The POLICE. Resist the urge to consult a certain professional organizer and all round meddler called Charlotte Adams. I have known her since we were kids and I’d trust her to put my shoes in order, sort my silverware or manage moving from one house to another, but the fact is she’s about as capable of investigating a murder as Minnie Mouse. Is that clear? I sure hope so because up until now, she’s been lucky she hasn’t been killed.
She cannot keep running around getting people stirred up and drawing ridiculous conclusions that just cause nothing but trouble. Who do you think cleans up after all that? That’s right. And to make matters worse, she gets in a flap whenever I have to haul her in for questioning. She can get more police cars out for the wrong reasons than anyone else in our jurisdiction. She thinks she should be able to pick her wardrobe before she’s arrested. On some other planet, maybe.
Oh and keep an eye on your husbands when she’s around, because for some reason men seem to find her attractive. She’s short and skinny and bossy and obsessive. Hard to see that as sexy, but there you have it. And in the case of my husband, Nick, who I admit is inclined to … Okay folks, enough about that. Move along.
I suppose she means well. Maybe we could go back to being best friends again if she could just learn to keep her nose in her own business. I suppose she really did do me a favor in her latest adventure.
And that’s a start. But it still drives me crazy. What about you? Do you have a ‘best’ friend who makes you nuts?