The funeral was unbearable. Our daughters, Sophie and Emma, only four and five years old, kept asking, “Where’s Mommy?” I had no idea how to answer. How could I explain something I didn’t understand myself? Thankfully, Elizabeth’s parents and sister were there to help handle the arrangements.
After the service, as I walked to my car in a daze, I felt someone watching me. At first, I thought it was just my grief playing tricks on me, but then I saw her—an old woman standing near the cemetery gates.
She looked ancient, her face etched with deep lines, her sharp eyes piercing through me as if she could see straight into my soul.
“Excuse me,” she called softly.
I hesitated but didn’t respond. I was too drained for conversation, especially with a stranger.
“I know your fate,” she said, her voice serious.
I frowned. “What?”
“Cross my palm with silver, and I’ll reveal the joy and sorrow that lie ahead,” she continued, holding out her hand.
I stared at her, bewildered. A fortune-teller? At a funeral? I shook my head, muttering, “I’m not interested,” and started to walk away.
But her next words stopped me cold. “Elizabeth won’t rest until justice is served.”
I turned back sharply. “What did you say?”
“Twenty dollars,” she said, beckoning with her bony fingers. “That’s all.”
Under normal circumstances, I would’ve dismissed her. But in my grief-stricken state, I was numb to everything. Twenty dollars seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I handed her the crumpled bill.
Her hand felt icy as she grabbed mine, her grip surprisingly firm. She didn’t take her eyes off me, and for a moment, I felt exposed, as though she could see all the pain I was carrying.
“Today, you’ve lost someone dear,” she whispered.
“Yeah, no kidding,” I said bitterly. “We’re at a cemetery.”
She didn’t flinch. “Your wife’s death was no accident.”
A chill ran down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s more to her death than you know. Tomorrow, the truth will begin to reveal itself.”
I felt my mouth go dry. “What truth?”
She smiled slowly, an unsettling grin. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll see.”
Before I could ask anything else, she turned and disappeared into the mist, vanishing as if she had never been there. I stood frozen, torn between disbelief and a strange sense of foreboding.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Elizabeth—her smile, her laugh, the way she kissed our daughters goodnight. But the fortuneteller’s cryptic words haunted me: “Your wife’s death was no accident.” Was there any truth to it? Could the crash have been something more sinister?
Unable to rest, I got up and sifted through Elizabeth’s things, desperate to feel close to her. Among her belongings, I found something odd—receipts from a car rental service. We had two cars. Why would she need a rental?
I stared at the receipts, my heart racing. The fortuneteller’s words echoed in my mind. “There’s more to her death than you know.”
The next morning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. I called Elizabeth’s best friend, Sarah, who worked at the garage where our cars were serviced. Maybe she could help me make sense of it all.
“Hey, Sarah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Did Elizabeth mention anything to you about renting a car?”
There was a brief pause before she answered. “Actually, yes. She rented a car when both of your cars were in the shop. It was for a surprise trip to the beach, but she returned it the day before… well, you know.”
“But why didn’t she tell me?” I muttered to myself.
“She wanted it to be a surprise,” Sarah replied. “She even asked her sister Karen to return the car for her after the trip.”
A wave of unease washed over me. Karen? Why would she return the car, and why hadn’t I known about it?
Determined to get answers, I drove to the rental company. When I explained the situation, the manager pulled up the records. “The car was returned without visible damage. We accepted it as normal, but… something seems off. Only a few miles were added to the odometer.”
I left the office with more questions than answers. Why had Karen returned the car? What was she hiding? I decided to contact the police, as the suspicion that Elizabeth’s death wasn’t an accident gnawed at me.
I explained everything to the detective—the car rental, the fortuneteller, my growing doubts. He listened carefully and assured me they’d investigate. “Initially, we ruled it a tragic accident caused by brake failure,” he said. “But now, with what you’ve shared, we’ll take a closer look.”
The days that followed were a blur. Then, the police found something shocking—evidence that someone had tampered with the brakes. My stomach churned as the horrifying truth began to surface.
It wasn’t long before the investigation revealed even more. Karen had taken out a life insurance policy on Elizabeth just months before the accident. She had forged Elizabeth’s signature and made herself the sole beneficiary.
I was sickened. Elizabeth’s death hadn’t been an accident—it was murder. And the person behind it was her own sister.
When Karen was arrested, I couldn’t even look at her. The woman who had comforted me in my grief had been the one to cause it all, driven by greed.
During interrogation, she confessed to tampering with the car’s brakes, hoping to collect the insurance money. The betrayal was devastating.
Karen was sentenced to life in prison. It didn’t bring Elizabeth back, but at least I knew she would never harm anyone again. The fortuneteller had been right—Elizabeth couldn’t rest until justice was served.
A few weeks later, I returned to the cemetery. As I stood by Elizabeth’s grave, I whispered, “You can rest now.”
Just as I was about to leave, a butterfly landed on her headstone. I knew it was Elizabeth, finally at peace.
Though I never saw the fortuneteller again, her words had led me to the truth. As painful as it was, that truth was worth every penny of the twenty dollars I had given her.
If you are a baggage handler, here’s why you never should tie anything to your suitcase
Have you ever tried attaching a vibrant ribbon to the handle of your suitcase to make it stand out? So fasten your seatbelts because we have some news that may lead you to reconsider your decorating plan!
Everyone wants their luggage to be noticeable, especially when they are attempting to find it in a sea of similar cases at a busy airport. Many of us decorate our suitcases with name tags, ribbons, and humorous stickers in an attempt to deter someone else from inadvertently taking our priceless possessions.
However, John, an airport baggage handler in Dublin, claims that these well-intended decorations may end up causing more problems than they solve.
Let’s start by admitting that our bags need personal touches. Nothing is worse than finding out that your suitcase is still at the airport, hiding among the other bags, when you finally get to your ideal destination. Some people even go so far as to attach a GoPro to their luggage in order to monitor its travels!
But take John’s advise into consideration before you start bedazzling your suitcase. Although attaching ribbons to your suitcase handles could make it easier to find your belongings, there is a chance that this could go wrong. What John said was as follows:
When a person ties a ribbon to identify their luggage, it may interfere with the bag’s scanning process in the baggage claim area. Your suitcase might not make it to the flight if it can’t be scanned automatically and has to be processed manually, the man said.
Consider this: the scanner may not have been able to correctly read your bag, which is beautifully ornamented with a ribbon, causing it to miss the flight entirely. Quite not worth the chance, is it?
John advises taking out any outdated stickers from your suitcase as well. These may cause confusion during the scanning procedure, which could cause delays or luggage misplacement. Although we understand how sentimental those travel stickers are, it might be time to part with them in order to make the trip run more smoothly.
John also gave me this helpful tip: turn the wheels of your suitcase faceup. By following this easy tip, you may shield the wheels from harm and make sure your suitcase doesn’t sway into problems.
The real deal, though, especially for people who enjoy baking or have a sweet appetite, is that you should never have marzipan in your luggage. Why? According to John, Marzipan—a confection composed of sugar, egg, and ground almonds—has a density similar to some explosives. You did really read correctly. This can result in a thorough check of you and your luggage, which could cause you to miss your flight entirely.
Imagine having your luggage examined and swabbed simply for the presence of a small amount of almond paste. Holidays missed because to Marzipan are simply not worth it!
The lesson here is that, even while it could seem sensible to tie a ribbon or add a personal touch to your suitcase, it’s usually best to forego doing so. The same is true when it comes to packaging rich foods like marzipan. If you follow these suggestions, your journey should go more smoothly and without incident.
Let those ribbons stay at home and have a happy journey!
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