A Turn of the Wheel by Francesca Quarto

A Turn of the Wheel by Francesca Quarto

Aunt Margaret was never my favorite relation. In fact, I barely knew of her when I became her companion and care-giver, four months ago.  Naturally, she didn't recognize me as kin, her poor- as-a-street-beggar, great niece, Lettie. 
I had to put up with constant ranting and badgering from the minute she opened her piercing blue eyes until her wrinkled lids shut for the day, along with her wizened mouth. 

Fortunately, it was easy to escape into another room in the large house, away from the harping sound of her voice. The money barely helped to dull the verbal abuse she inflicted upon me daily, with her wicked tongue. 
My extremely obnoxious relation was totally bedridden, when I wasn't moving her about in her wheelchair.  The house maid told me my late Uncle Freddy's role in her condition.
The maid said Uncle Freddy was driving a brand new Gold Bug Speedster, just like the one favored by the famous boxer, Jack Dempsey. It was a lavish gift from Meg to Freddy, on their first Anniversary. Naturally, it was his money she spent.  Freddy was a rich old bugger and Aunt Margaret spent his fortune freely.
Before the automobile accident, according to the maid, who'd been with the household for over twenty years,  Meg was once a beautiful, vivacious woman.  She wore her golden-brown hair in the stylish "Dutch Boy" bob of the day, cut straight along her chin line, with thick bangs brushing her fashionably thin brows.  She always wore the latest in make-up, applying her powders and lash Kohl, as expertly as any aspiring movie ingénue.
But all her fashionable wardrobe, make-up, hair styling,and his money, couldn't save her from the fate of a broken body. The maid described the scene of the accident vividly, likely using some embellishments as servants tend to do.

Because Freddy, quite a bit older, with poor eyesight, pushed the Speedster to its limits, he wasn't aware of a dangerous hazard around a slight bend in the road.  He slammed head-on into the neighbor's thick-sided Bessie, newly escaped from her paddock. The cow was stunned.  Getting back to her wobbly legs and crossing over the roadway, before succumbing to  fatal injuries.

The maid said his only passenger, Aunt Margaret, was hurled out of the racing vehicle like a ball from a cannon.  Uncle Freddy was fortunate to have the steering wheel in front of himself and therefore was not ejected from the now ruined vehicle. But his bowels were never the same the servant revealed and he died within a month of the accident, leaving his crippled wife a very wealthy invalid.

Aunt Margaret never forgave Uncle Freddy for her condition and because of her advancing years and ill health, became increasingly afraid of how that would effect her after-life. She confided this fear to me one day in a moment of self-pity no doubt, as we walked (she rolled) the gardens.

Using this as a perfect excuse to get her out of the house, and, out of sight of the other household staff, I suggested we visit old Freddy's grave site.

Rolling her down the garden path and deeper into the less-tended park setting of the family plot, I knew exactly what I needed to do to rid myself of the wretched woman and gain a fortune in the process. 
We had to climb a long hill to reach the square mausoleum, set on the top like a beacon of death.  Pushing the much heavier Margaret uphill, had me sweating like a race horse with the effort. I planned on giving Margaret a last shove at the top, so she'd roll downhill, picking up speed until she careened into one of the many trees below.

Finally we reached the goal and Margaret asked that I open the door with a large skeleton key she removed from a  chain I'd never seen before that held another of the same cut. The lock turned easily and I pushed the door wider, so the interior was better-lit.  

I heard Margaret give a small laugh, more of a snort, like she knew something funny was about to happen.  I had my back turned to her where she sat.  I was curiously peering into the shadowy interior when I was shoved hard from behind.  

I fell across the sarcophagus where I presumed Freddy was laid to rest, banging my shins hard against the gray stone and rubbing my forearms raw of its gritty surface. I was gathering myself after the shock, when the door was slammed shut.  I clearly heard the lock being turned into place.  

Stunned and standing in total darkness, a voice suddenly came out of the inky mass surrounding me.
"You are my last relative, Lettie and thought to murder me and inherit my fortune.  Many others have tried before you, dear.  Now you can tell your pathetic story to Freddy while you await your own end.  But you must admit, I had you fooled, playing the invalid.  I've been able to walk short distances since the accident, but kept the truth from everyone as it served to punish that dolt, Freddy for what his stupidity did to me.
Anyway dear, it's time to leave you with the others who tried to kill me off.  Oh, yes, they're all in there with you, relatives who crawled out of the woodwork to get to my fortune. The company will be good to pass the time until...well, you know!" She was laughing outright, now.

I could hear Margaret struggling to get back into her wheel chair, cursing as she hauled her weight onto the cushioned seat.  I heard her begin to roll away, over the loose gravel covering the ground.  The next sound was most gratifying of any, considering the end she provided for me. 
A high pitched scream, lasting several minutes, fading in and out as it became more distant.  Seems this mausoleum will shortly have one more occupant.