Contributor: John Laneri - - I've watched enough television to know that DNA evidence is often found on a murder victim’s hands. With a dead body across the street, it's clear to me that I'll become a prime suspect when the police begin to canvas the neighborhood. The ironic thing is, I didn't murder the woman. I hardly knew her for God’s sake. My dilemma started last night when our new neighbors, the Johnson’s, threw a neighborhood party. Jane and I attended along with most of the other people on our street. We arrived at eight o’clock. The host and hostess were cordial people from the west coast. He was into banking and she… well, I’m not sure about her. But, we did converse briefly before Jane and I headed to the food table. After about thirty minutes, the party came to life. By then, Jane had wandered away, so I looked around...

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Author: John Laneri