was inconsolable following the death of my wife, Elizabeth, in a vehicle accident. I never thought that at the age of 35, I would become a widower and be left to manage our two young daughters, Emma, 5, and Sophie, 4.
Elizabeth had been my rock, and then she was gone, ripped away by what I thought was a terrible mishap. I was in so much pain that I was having trouble breathing.
It was nearly intolerable at the funeral. Our children’ naive expressions were filled with confusion as they repeatedly asked where “Mommy” was. How could I describe something that I didn’t even fully comprehend? Although Elizabeth’s sister and parents assisted with the arrangements, none of us could really understand the gap left by her absence.
I felt like someone was observing me as I walked hazily back to the car after the service. I initially believed it to be my imagination, but then I saw an elderly woman standing close to the cemetery gates. Her eyes were piercing and almost knowing, and her face was severely lined, giving her an aged appearance.
“Pardon me,” she called quietly.
Despite my hesitation, I remained silent. I was psychologically and physically worn out, and talking to a stranger was the last thing I needed.
“I am aware of your destiny,” she added in a somber, hushed voice.
I scowled. “What?”
She held out her hand and said, “Cross my palm with silver, and I’ll tell you what lies ahead.”
A fortune-teller. at the funeral for my wife. It was unbelievable to me.
I murmured, “Not interested,” and turned to leave.
However, she then said something that made me pause. “Lizabeth will not stop until justice is done.”
With my heart racing, I froze. “What just did you say?” I insisted.
“Twenty bucks,” she said. “That’s all.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought and would have left. But I was susceptible because of my loss and apathy. I gave her a crumpled $20 that I had taken out of my pocket.
She gripped my hand with a tight, frigid grip that was stronger than I had anticipated. As she looked directly into my eyes, I had the impression that she could see straight through me.
“You lost a loved one today,” she started.
“No kidding,” I yelled angrily. “A cemetery is where we are.”
Her face remained unchanged. “The death of your wife was not an accident.”
A shiver ran up my back. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t know everything there is to her death,” she said. “The truth will start to come to light tomorrow.”
I wanted to ask her questions and demand answers, but she turned and vanished into the mist before I could say anything more. Unsure whether to be scared or angry, I stood there paralyzed.
I had trouble sleeping that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was reminded of Elizabeth’s gentle voice as she tucked the girls in, saw her face, and heard her laugh. But she was gone now. I was troubled by the fortune-teller’s statement that her death was not an accident. Is it possible? Could the crash have been more serious?
After getting out of bed, I started going through Elizabeth’s belongings. I had to feel intimate with her. In an attempt to find some comfort, I looked through her clothes, notebooks, and purse. At that point, I discovered something surprising: a pile of receipts from a vehicle rental company.
“Why would she require a car rental?” I asked out loud. We drove two vehicles. It was illogical.
I couldn’t get rid of the notion that something was seriously off the following morning. I kept thinking about the fortune-teller’s mysterious statements. I called Sarah, Elizabeth’s best friend, in a desperate attempt to get answers.
She was employed at the garage where our vehicles were serviced.
With hesitation, I said, “Hey, Sarah.” “I have an unusual question for you. Did Elizabeth bring up the subject of automobile rentals with you?
She was silent for a moment before answering. Yes, in fact. She hired one of your cars while the other two were being repaired so she could take the girls to the beach. She wished for it to be unexpected.
Unexpected? How come she hadn’t told me? I felt I had to find out the truth, so Sarah provided me the number of the rental business.
With my heart pounding, I drove directly to the rental firm. The manager verified that the automobile had been returned undamaged—by Elizabeth’s sister, Karen—by consulting the records.
Karen would return the automobile, but why? And why hadn’t she brought it up? Only a few miles had been driven, according to the odometer. It was all illogical.
I told the police about my suspicions, including the rental, the receipts, and the unnerving prophecy from the fortune teller. They appeared hesitant at first, but they decided to reopen the probe because of the evidence.
A startling finding was made by the police a few days later. The brakes on the rental car had been tampered with. It was not a coincidence. As the reality hit in, my heart fell.
The investigation quickly turned up more information. Only a few months prior to the accident, Karen had obtained a life insurance policy on Elizabeth, forged her signature, and designated herself as the only beneficiary. The shocking reality was that Elizabeth’s own sister had planned her killing out of greed.
I was not even allowed to look at Karen after she was arrested. My wife was murdered by this woman, who had consoled me during my worst hours.
She acknowledged manipulating the brakes to create the appearance of an accident. For financial gain. She had relied on the life insurance payout since she was in dire need of money to pay off obligations.
The fortune-teller’s statement that Elizabeth won’t stop until justice is done crossed my mind once more. It was accurate. Because Elizabeth’s death had been a cold, premeditated murder, her spirit had not been at rest.
Karen received a life sentence. Elizabeth didn’t return, but there was some comfort in knowing the truth. As the sentence was announced, I sat in the courtroom feeling numb and relieved that justice had been done.
I returned to the cemetery a few weeks later and stood by Elizabeth’s grave. The leaves crunched underfoot, and the air was crisp. I told her in a whisper, “You can now relax.”
A butterfly landed on the headstone as I turned to go. Finally at calm, I recognized it as Elizabeth.
I pondered about the fortune-teller’s remarks a lot, but I never saw her again. I could never have predicted the direction that $20 has taken me. And the truth had ultimately been worth every penny, despite how painful it had been.
