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Excerpt from Mistaken Identity
Zanny saw the flashing lights from the bottom of the hill.
An ambulance, two police squad cars and one other car, which looked ordinary,
except for the red flashing lights on its roof, appeared to be clustered at
the bottom of her driveway. But that didn’t make sense. Surely they were there
for one of the neighbours — old Mr. Taylor, all alone except for a half-dozen
cats and a son-in-law who visited every second Sunday, or Mrs. Finster, a
widow with three grown children: a dentist, a professor, and a rabbi. Maybe
Mr. Taylor had a heart attack. Maybe Mrs. Finster had fallen down the stairs.
Zanny quickened her pace, telling herself that nothing could possibly have
happened at her house that would bring out an ambulance and two police cars,
but wanting to be sure anyway.
Then, when she was close enough, she suddenly stopped. All those cars were definitely in front of her house. On the east side of the house, two police officers were studying the ground beneath the kitchen window.
Zanny had one leg over the tape when a voice boomed at her, “Hey, you, kid, where do you think you’re going?” Zanny
hesitated, but only for a moment. This was her house, She swung her other leg over
the yellow tape and started up the steps to the front door.
“Hey!” the voice shouted behind her. “Stop or I’ll arrest you for impeding a police investigation.”
Zanny ground to a halt, but not because the voice had threatened her. She stopped
because she had found herself nose-to-chest with a burly plainclothes policeman.
From Mistaken Identity . Text copyright © 1995 by Norah McClintock.
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