O'Malley's had always been one of my favorite restaurants. Its atmosphere was light, the food delicious, and the prices reasonable. There was no better place to take two friends to celebrate their engagement.

"Cheers!" I said, raising my glass of water. "May life give you what you deserve."

Bethany and Mark raised their wine glasses and then drank. I slowly sipped my water. Then I motioned for the waiter to refill their glasses.

"Aren't you going to have any wine, Allison?" Bethany inquired. I noticed that the alcohol was already beginning to affect her.

"No, no," I replied, giving her a pleasant smile. "You and Mark enjoy yourselves tonight. I'll just have water and drive you home."

"Great!" cried Bethany a little too loudly. She giggled, as I tried to hide any sense of embarrassment. She never really could handle alcohol very well, as I had heard. The rumors were right.

"Shhh!" Mark hissed at her. Then, he turned his attention to me. "You know, Al," he began, using his old nickname for me, "this is great of you, considering everything."

* * * * *

"Considering everything." Those words from Mark brought back painful memories. They reminded me of a time when Mark was mine.

Five years ago--it seemed an eternity--Mark and I were in love. We were both working at a local pharmacy, trying to pay for college. I worked as a clerk, while Mark was a stock boy. When things were slow, which they usually were, we would talk. One day, as we were closing, he offered to take me out for a hamburger. After that, we were inseparable.

Then Bethany Parker showed up. The Parkers owned almost everything in Addison. She was their only child, and whatever little Bethany wanted, she got.

I never liked Bethany, who was two years younger than Mark and I. Her parents had paid me to tutor her off and on, especially in math. Bethany pretended to like me. All the boys at school used to drool over her, except Mark, which insulted her. As soon as she had her parents fire me, she began her plan to steal Mark.

All that summer Bethany stayed at the pharmacy, flirting with Mark and getting on my nerves. I tried to explain to Mark what she was up to, but he accused me of being paranoid. He couldn't understand what I was trying to say, or he wouldn't.

As each day passed, I watched as Mark became closer to Bethany and pushed me further away. Finally I had had enough and told the little slut to get out of the store. I had played right into her hands.

Bethany started her crying bit, and Mark demanded that I apologize. I informed him that there was no way I would apologize to her. We argued, and then Mark left the pharmacy with Bethany. I was alone.

Mark quit work the next day and starting spending all of his time with Bethany. I couldn't stay in Addison and see them together. I quit my job and moved to a neighboring town.

Then, six months ago, I read in a local newspaper that Bethany Parker was engaged to Mark Harrison. Seeing those two smiling faces resurrected my buried anger, hurt, and resentment. I had to do something or I would go crazy. That's when I came up with my plan.

* * * * *

As dinner ended, Bethany and Mark were very drunk. I paid our bill, which included two bottles of wine, and escorted the stumbling pair to my car. I dumped Bethany in the back seat and gently laid Mark in the front. Then I got in, started the car, and drove to Bethany's house.

I dragged Bethany out of the car to her front door. I struggled to hold her up and unlock the door. Somehow I managed. Once inside, I deposited Bethany in her bed and left her house. I returned to my car and got in.

I drove to Mark's apartment on the other side of town, as unbidden memories of me and Mark filled my mind. He looked so peaceful, leaned back in the passenger seat. Those familiar lips were slightly parted and his breathing made a slight swishing sound.

I forced myself to keep my mind on the plan. We finally arrived at his apartment. I brought him inside and flung him down on the couch in the den. I had waited for this moment for six months.

I opened my purse and found the items, the syringe and the bottle of insulin, that I had packed earlier. I carefully measured the lethal dose. It had to be perfect. I couldn't get caught. I strolled to where Mark was slumbering.

I injected the insulin into Mark's scalp. Even if the police suspected something, I doubted that they would check his scalp for needle marks. Also, if they did find that it was insulin that killed him, they would blame it on Mark's family history of diabetes. It was the perfect crime.

I stepped back, again noticing how handsome and peaceful he looked sleeping there. Mark started murmuring in his sleep, but I couldn't make it out. I set the used syringe ona nearby table. Then I leaned down to his ear.

"I love you," I whispered, "but I had to do this."

"Bethany," he said quietly.

That dissolved any residual remorse I might have harbored. I gathered my things, turned off the lights, and left the apartment. Then I drove myself home.

* * * * *

I had slept like the dead when the phone woke me up the next morning. I yawned, rolling lazily to the other side of the bed, then picked up the phone. I tried to make out the still blurry numbers of the clock.

"Hello?" I asked sleepily.

"Oh, Allison, something horrible has happened!" It was Bethany. She was screaming into my ear at ten o'clock in the morning. It had to be good.

"Bethany, what's wrong?" I asked. I surprised myself with my acting ability. I sounded truly concerned.

"Mark's dead! He's dead, Ally!" Bethany shrieked, as she began to sob. I stayed silent, listening. I couldn't help but smile.

* * * * *

I drove to Mark's apartment building. It was surrounded by police cars and people. Most of the people were spectators, drawn by the flashing blue lights. However, I did see a couple of reporter and various police officers.

Bethany was waiting for me just outside the building. As she approached, I could tell that she had been crying. She immediately grabbed my hand and drew me away from the crowd.

"I'm glad you came, Ally. I don't know what to do!" she exclaimed.

"Hey, I'm here for you, Bethany." I gave her a quick hug. "Do they know how he--what happened?" I couldn't help but ask.

"No, they don't," she replied, wiping her eyes with a crumpled handkerchief. "They won't release his body until they are through with their investigation." She shivered and hugged her arms to herself.

"Even worse, the police want me to come in for questioning this afternoon. This is so unreal." She turned her tearful eyes to mine. "Will you go with me, Ally?" She was pleading.

"Sure."

* * * * *

Not only did the police want to talk to Bethany, they wanted to question me as well, I discovered that afternoon. I was lead by an almost apologetic detective to a cramped gray room. He told me to take a seat, gesturing to the two battered metallic chairs in the room, and the "sarge" would be in soon. I didn't have to wait long, until a middle-aged man entered the room.

"Ms. Cartwright?" he asked, looking down at his clipboard.

"Yes?" I placed my purse and then my finger-laced hands on the scarred wood table.

"My name is Arthur McDaniel. I am a sergeant here at the department. I need to ask you some questions about last night."

"Of course, officer," I replied in a concerned, cooperative manner. "If I can be any help . . ."

"I think you can," he said gruffly, cutting me off. As he took the chair across from me, he studied me with narrow eyes. Taking a pen out of his breast pocket, he flipped some pages on the clipboard.

"Ms. Cartwright, did you take Ms. Parker and Mr. Harrison to dinner last night?"

"Yes, I did," I answered. The phrase, "considering everything," echoed in my mind.

"Why?"

"Why what?" I asked, puzzled by the question.

"Why did you take them to dinner, Ms. Cartwright? From our understanding, you were once involved with Mr. Harrison. After your heated break-up, you left Addison and did not return until about six months ago. That's about the time Mr. Harrison and Ms.
Parker, the woman he left you for, announced their engagement."

I surprised that the police had already started their homework on me. "Yes," I begin hesitantly, as if embarrassed, "I was once involved with Mark. I was only 19 when Mark and I broke up. The only way I knew to handle the situation was to leave Addison.

"I think I have done some growing up since then, Sergeant McDaniel. I realized that you can't always run away from unpleasant things. When I moved back to Addison, I was unaware of Mark and Bethany's engagement. When I did learn of it, I offered to take them out to dinner to celebrate."

"What happened after dinner?" the officer asked in a gruff tone.

"I drove Mark and Bethany home. They had had quite a bit of wine with their dinner. I thought it was best if I served as a designated driver for them."

"After that?"

I paused, as if in thought. "I went home, took a bath, and went to bed."

"Is that all?" McDaniel continued to stare at me, as if he could read the truth in my face.

"Yes, that was it. Honestly, I slept in until ten o'clock when Bethany called me this morning, informing about Mark." I left my voice carrying some sadness and grief.

He narrowed his eyes at me one more time before he rose from his chair. "Thank you, Ms. Cartwright. You may leave now."

"Thank you, Sergeant McDaniel. Please let me know if I can be of any help." The I left the room.

* * * * *

It was approaching four o'clock before Bethany and I left the police station. Although it wasn't late, we were both anxious to get home. As I dropped her off, I told Bethany I would call her the next day.

However, it was Bethany who called me an hour later. The police had informed her that Mark's body would be released sometime the next day, upon the conclusion of the coroner's report. The funeral would be held two days after that.

"This is a silly question, but will you come, Ally?" Beth begged.

I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

* * * * *

The funeral service was beautiful, since the Parkers had provided most of the things. The flowers were large yet elegant. Mark appeared although he was sleeping in his cherry casket. One of Mark's college friends gave the eulogy, and his sister Charlotte sang "Amazing Grace." Then the pastor said a few words, and we headed to the cemetery.

Mark Harrison was laid to rest in a pleasant cemetery on a hill. From the top, you could see the whole town and the river, but I doubted Mark cared anything about that anymore. Bethany cried through the whole service, clinging to her father's arm.

She was still crying now, I noticed, as her parents hugged her. I glanced at Mark's casket, realizing I was hindering the crew. With a final sigh, I began walking to Bethany.

Somehow I managed to look solemn, masking the elation that was coursing through me. One down, one to go, I thought. I stopped by Bethany and gave her a hug, wincing as she sobbed into my shoulder.

"I don't trust myself to drive," she croaked, her voice hoarse from her constant sobbing. "Will you drive me home, Ally? I don't want to be with my parents right now."

I told she could, hugging her to me with one arm as we walked to my car. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked, as I started the car.

"Yeah," she answered in a tired voice. I pulled us out of the cemetery.

"Tell you what I'll do, Bethany, since you don't want to be with your parents right now. I'll go home and make you something for dinner. I'll bring it back around six, okay?"

"That will be fine. You're such a great friend, Ally, really," Bethany stated sincerely, forcing a weak smile on her red, swollen face.

I returned with a weak smile. "Hey, what are friends for?"

* * * * *

I was almost finished with my plan. Bethany's depression was getting worse, since she was withdrawing even from her family. If I didn't do something quickly, she would possibly do the task for me. I couldn't let her do that.

A sense of urgency pushed me to finish what I had started. I fixed a chicken casserole and a salad. After all, I had told Bethany I would bring her some dinner. Next, I packed a few things in my purse: a bottle of aspirin (crushed into powder), a smaller bottle of sleeping pills (also powder), and a plastic spoon.

I then called Bethany. It was only five o'clock, but I doubted if she would mind if I dropped the food off early. I picked up the phone and dialed her number. I let it ring seven or eight times before finally hanging up.

My greatest concern was that Bethany might have killed herself already. I had to find out. I grabbed the food and my purse and ran out the door.

* * * * *

I arrived at Bethany's house a few minutes later, and the place looked deserted. There were no lights on, despite the fact it was dusk. I put on my leather driving gloves. I did not want to leave any fingerprints for the zealous Sergeant McDaniel.

I headed to the front door. It was unlocked. I entered quietly and set the casserole and salad on the kitchen counter. Down the hall, I noticed that a light was on.

I crept down the hall and peeked in the room. Bethany was sitting on the bed, her eyes red from crying. She was writing something. I had to find out what.

"Bethany?"

She jerked her head up, and the paper fell to the floor. I casually walked over and picked it up. It was a suicide note.

"Oh, Bethany," I said, sadly. "This is not the way."

She looked away, unable to face me. "I can't live like this, Ally! I can't!"

She began to cry. "I can't eat. I can't sleep. All I do is think about Mark."

I sat down on the bed next to her. "It's normal, Bethany. You've just lost the man you love, but killing yourself won't help." It won't help me, I thought angrily.

"What you need is rest," I continued, in a soothing tone. "I've got some stuff to help you sleep if you like."

She nodded her head. I got up and went into the attached bathroom. Inside, with the door partly closed, I opened my purse. I pulled out the two bottles and the spoon I had packed earlier.

I opened one of the cabinets and found a glass. I put the crushed sleeping pills and aspirins in the glass. Then I added water and stirred. I went back to Bethany, who was still sitting on the bed.

"Here we go. This should take care of you," I said, handing her the glass. She looked questionably at it.

"It's okay," I assured her. "I read in a magazine that if you crush the pills, add water, and then drink, the medicine will work faster."

I was lying, but it sounded logical. Bethany believed anyway. She drank it all.

"Thanks, Ally. Well, good night, I guess."

"Good night, Bethany." And goodbye, I thought. I turned off the light and went to the kitchen to wait.

* * * * *

Forty minutes later, I went to check on Bethany. I tried to wake her up, but I couldn't. I found her suicide note and placed it on the pillow beside her. She had made it so easy for me.

I strolled down the hall to the kitchen and retrieved the casserole and salad from the counter. They weren't fit to eat now, but it had been worth it. I looked around and was content. I opened the door and left the house. Then I went home.

* * * * *

Bethany Parker's funeral was three days later. She was laid to rest next to Mark in the same cemetery on a hill. Once again I admired the view. Her family had asked me to attend, and, of course, I couldn't refuse. I had told how sorry I was about their loss.

I really should become an actress.

After the funeral, I went to O'Malley's for a sandwich. As I ate, I replayed in my mind the events of the past six months, especially the past week. I recalled how just a few days ago Mark, Bethany, and I were dining in this same restaurant, celebrating their engagement. It's true, love doesn't last anymore.

The police had ruled that Mark Harrison had died from a diabetic episode triggered by excessive drinking. Bethany Parker had obviously committed suicide. No one suspected a thing, except for the possibility of Sergeant McDaniel, who had no proof but a gut instinct.

I smiled. In a way, I felt sorry for the good sergeant, who would never be able to prove his correct assumption about me. Oh, well. I had gotten away with it. I had gotten away with murder.

I gave a sigh and signaled to the waiter I was ready for my bill. Once again I was all alone, but this time I was happy. I had gotten my revenge.