Previously in The Murder of Ted…
When every road seemed to lead to another dead end, God answered our prayer with an unexpected light.
This week: One survivor’s story could change the entire investigation.
Thank you for joining me on this unexpected, uncozy adventure.
The Murder of Ted
A Series of Unfortunate Events, an Uncozy Adventure
Chapter Six: The Witness
Every good sleuth knows that sometimes the most important clue comes from the most unexpected place.
When Ruth stepped out of the treatment room and sat beside me, I quickly realized this was not just a medical conversation. It was a connection.
We exchanged phone numbers, and before long, we discovered we had more in common than either of us could have imagined.
She homeschooled her daughter. I homeschooled mine. We both understood the unique chaos of teaching children while trying to keep life moving forward. We both understood faith and what it meant to suddenly have your carefully planned life interrupted by an unexpected villain.
However, a twist and unfortunate event came when Ruth revealed she hadn’t defeated Ted. She was still fighting him. Her Triple Negative Breast Cancer had metastasized to her bones. Five months earlier, she had been given two months to live. Yet here she was. Sharing her story. Sharing her hope.
She told me that LW had given her a fighting chance against her Ted. The path was not easy. She didn’t pretend it was. She was honest about the challenges, the uncertainty, and the sacrifices.
But for her, it gave her something no one else had. A chance to live, a quality of life, and most importantly…Hope.
It didn’t take long before Ruth and I became friends. Not just friends. Sisters in TNBC crime.
Every conversation gave me more confidence that maybe this path was the one I was supposed to take.
The quirky locals, my family, and my closest friends agreed. Maybe LW was the detective agency we needed.
But a good sleuth never ignores evidence.
The State agency had finally scheduled my appointment two weeks after the original request had been placed on STAT. Even though my heart was leaning toward LW, I wasn’t about to cancel.
Every good investigator follows every lead, no matter how insignificant it may seem.
What kind of sleuth would I be if I left evidence sitting on the table?
If we were going to dispatch Ted, we needed to be absolutely sure we were choosing the right weapon.
So we continued gathering evidence.
LW’s method fascinated us. He called it: Death by one thousand paper cuts.
Ted was a supervillain, but maybe he didn’t need one giant dramatic defeat. Maybe he needed hundreds of tiny attacks until he finally realized he had picked the wrong opponent.
While we waited for the State agency appointment, there was still a mountain of work to do.
LW wasn’t cheap. Insurance didn’t cover every weapon he provided to fight Ted.
But if the State agency couldn’t offer a way to catch Ted without causing more damage to me in the process…
I would find a way. Cancer was quickly becoming my full-time job and my husband’s too.
Between medical appointments, research, phone calls, paperwork, housing searches, and financial decisions, it felt like we were trying to organize a thousand moving pieces while Ted sat in the background getting angrier.
I needed to line up my poor oil-covered ducks and quickly.
Thankfully, I wasn’t alone.
One of my closest friends, Eve, had already been hunting for ways to defeat Ted. But once we had a possible battle plan, she put on her cape and officially became my super sleuthing partner.
While I focused on appointments, research, and trying to keep my emotions in check, Eve quietly went to work looking for housing options.
She orchestrated prayer chains and kept a network of people informed on the case. Anything we needed to make this plan possible. Because LW still required me to temporarily move away for treatment.
When it became painfully obvious that evicting Ted was going to cost far more than we had ever imagined, no matter what option we accepted, Eve took matters into her own hands. She began organizing a GoFundMe to help cover the overwhelming expenses that insurance simply wouldn’t.
I struggled with accepting that kind of help. I’ve always been the one who likes helping others, not the one asking for help. But cancer has a way of reminding you that sometimes accepting help is just as important as giving it.
Eve reminded me that this investigation wasn’t mine to solve alone.
Ted wasn’t just being hunted by one amateur sleuth anymore. The investigation team was growing almost as fast as Ted.
The next week became an emotional roller coaster. One minute I felt confident. The next minute, fear crept back in.
Was Ted getting more aggressive?
The pain was spreading.
Was I making the right choice?
As you can see, keeping my emotions in check was becoming quite difficult.
If I didn’t act, how long did I have before Ted crossed the line from dangerous villain to permanent threat?
Unfortunately, nobody had a crystal ball. And even Dr. Google could only give me guesses. Thirty to sixty days.
That was the terrifying window.
LW’s treatment would take about twelve weeks before we would know if it was working.
Twelve weeks.
Three months of waiting to see if our plan was enough.
But every day I talked to Ruth; my confidence grew. She understood. She had walked this road before. And every conversation reminded me that hope was still part of this investigation.
The devastating truth was that hope still came with a price.
We needed funds immediately, or treatment would be further delayed. My husband quickly arranged for us to take out a second mortgage.
There went retirement, I guess.
The weight of the world sat on our shoulders. But every time things looked dark, there was always a tiny glimmer of hope.
One of those glimmers came from my writing community. The wonderful authors in my writing group had heard about Ted. And writers do what writers do best. They tell stories.
They began creating the Ted Must Die Collection of short stories about the many creative ways this villain should meet his end.
Apparently, Ted had underestimated the size of his investigation team.
My writer friends officially earned their new title.
The Ted Hunters.
Hearing them throw out ideas on how Ted would die made me smile. I laughed harder than I had in weeks.
It reminded me that Ted might have invaded my body, but he hadn’t stolen my sense of humor or my people.
Every message, every prayer, and every encouraging word reminded me that I wasn’t investigating this case alone.
This wasn’t just my battle anymore. It belonged to an entire team of quirky locals, and we all know that’s why a cozy mystery ends happily.
The day finally arrived. The State agency meeting. The final detective interviews.
We walked into that appointment hoping for one last piece of evidence.
Unfortunately. This interview offered little more than confirmation.
The physician sat across from me with her hands folded neatly in her lap and an expression so stern it looked like she needed to poop.
It was clear from the beginning that she wasn’t expecting the kind of questions I brought with me; I wasn’t walking into that office as just another patient. I was a detective in my own investigation. I had researched, I had read, and I had questions.
She got straight to the point.
“Why are you here? You don’t have the insurance we want.”
I blinked.
“Because my surgeon wanted me to have all my doctors under one roof,” I explained. “And we were hoping for treatment options.”
“You can get a neurologist down there,” she replied. “There is no choice for you to make.”
And there it was. The same answer we had already received. The same weapon. The same plan and no alternatives. No discussion about my concerns or a solution for my resident brain tumor.
The questions I asked about my health conditions were brushed aside, and I left feeling less like a partner in my own investigation and more like another file waiting to move through the system.
Oddly enough…
That disappointing appointment gave us exactly what we needed.
Certainty.
As any good sleuth knows, you follow every lead before closing the case.
We had done exactly that. We had interviewed every detective willing to take Ted’s case.
Now it was time to choose ours.
After leaving the State agency, we knew exactly where the investigation stood.
We headed back to LW. It was time to begin the next phase. The first appointment involved blood work and health scans.
They took so much blood that my vein finally decided it had enough and started slowing down.
The nurses ended up adding a second IV. Even my veins were tired of dealing with this investigation.
As if that wasn’t enough, my sinus infection decided it wanted to join Team Ted.
I could barely breathe.
That night, I had one of those moments where the weight of everything finally caught up with me.
I sat upright in my husband’s recliner because I couldn’t sleep in bed.
The sinus infection had closed everything off, and lying down felt like I would choke.
Ted wanted to make sure everyone knew he was still in charge.
I looked down at my body.
The very body that was supposed to be helping me fight Ted, and I had a little talk with it.
“We need to get on the same page if we’re going to catch Ted. We can’t be fighting each other. Divided, he’ll conquer us.” Because that was the truth.
My body and I needed to work together. Ted was the enemy, not me.
Ted’s evil ways had increasingly intensified. The pain was spreading, and I was growing weary.
I just prayed I would find the strength to get through this.
Meanwhile, the lab had given me another assignment. A giant jug for a six-hour urine collection, two stool samples, and a saliva sample.
Now, rather than share every gruesome detail of that adventure, let’s just say this…I will never look at my refrigerator the same way again.
There is something incredibly humbling about collecting and packaging your own poo.
Ted sat there, lurking, and said, “And you thought your dignity was safe?”
Sometimes you just have to stop, laugh, and reply, “This is what my life has come to?”
And honestly…sometimes laughter is the only reasonable response.
The battle plan was coming together. There was only one more major piece of equipment needed. My newest roommate, the one who would make me a cyborg.
The port.
Stay tuned for the next episode of Chapter Seven: Preparing for Battle
While I’m busy tracking down Ted, Taryn O’Kelly is proving that every mystery can be solved with enough coffee, courage, and a little Irish luck. If you’re ready for a murder that’s a little less personal and a lot more cozy, join Taryn in the Taryn O’Kelly Mystery series.
And don’t forget, the antidote to the uncozy is a cozy mystery.
Until next chapter…
Happy reading.
As always, thanks for stopping by for some Salty Inspirations! -Michelle ❤️
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