Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 36, No. 6, June 1991

“No drink, just information.” I asked him about Jackie. He got real tense, glancing sideways at Millie. At first he denied even seeing her, but when I told him Plaidpants had seen them together, he admitted that much.

Millie, who was known to be the jealous type, was fuming, but she didn’t seem very surprised. And that surprised me. I poked around a little more, but I already knew what I’d find. And, sure enough, by morning I had the case solved. All that was left was to tell Sylvia. As I made my way to where the “specials” hung, I tried to think of an easy way to break it to her. There was no easy way. I gave it to her straight.

“Sorry, kid. I found your sister in the bottom of the washing machine.”

“The...” She went limp, horrified. “The washing machine! But that can’t be! Jackie was... was...”

“I know,” I told her gently. “She was ‘Dry-clean Only.’ It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

It wasn’t until later that I told her sister had been helped into that machine, and about the small tuft of pink angora I found clutched in the button of her sleeve.

Millie finally came clean and admitted shoving Jackie into the laundry basket in a fit of jealousy. From then on, her life was washed up. The last I saw of Millie, she was being led away by a couple of burly uniforms with gold stars.

Sylvia’s customer was so steamed by what had happened to Jackie that she stormed out, leaving Sylvia to become a permanent resident. She’s settling in now, and getting over her loss.

And me? I’m finding silk might be my type after all.