She stopped struggling…
published by Jean Apr 12, 2009
He lifted her skirt.
“Oh my pretty girl.” he whispered.
“You wore the garter belt I like so much.”
He almost regretted killing her quite yet.
Married five years. They both wanted children.
Or, so he thought.
Her first mistake was leaving the birth control pills in her lingerie drawer. With a bracelet he’d never seen before.
People get careless when their deceit goes on too long.
That was six months ago and he’d been collecting evidence and plotting ever since. His original plan did not include killing. He wanted to catch her in the act, beat the shit out of whichever prick was there and, spend some months making her life miserable.
In the end, though, the idea of long, drawn out drama was not appealing. Better to end it quickly and move on.
When his job necessitated traveling, he called her every morning and she called him every evening. Turned out that schedule left her evenings free for other things.
When he saw this week’s schedule had him working two separate projects, he decided it would be the best scenario for covering his tracks. He wasn’t due to come home for two more days. That would explain why the vase of roses was still on the dresser with a card that said, “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. Love, Joe.“
The dead, naked guy beside her on the bed was Sam.
Sam’s neck was twisted in a most unnatural angle. As was hers.
No blood. No mess.
He reached up to close her eyes and pull her skirt down a bit.
He couldn’t help but leave her, his wife, with a tiny bit of dignity.
Living in a heavily treed area with distant neighbors made it easy to hide his car and walk unnoticed to the house. With several hours of moonless dark still in the evening, he’d have no trouble going back the way he came. He’d be back at the hotel in plenty
of time to make his morning call to her. And leave a loving message.
Perhaps Joe, the bouquet-guy, would be the one to find this scene.
If not, he’d make another call tomorrow night, leave another message and then call her sister to ask if she’d seen his wife. Either way, he would be the broken-hearted, grieving husband however he got the tragic news.
He walked to the bedroom doorway and looked back to say,
“It was fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?“
Excellent. Both you and ghost are very unique writers as are most of the other commenters. . Thanks.
P.S. Tempus fugits. Time is going way too fast.
50+ years ago so whatever statute of limitations has long since expired, but I was at what was then called Fort Benning with a guy who got a rather diseased Dear John letter from his girl back home. They had marriage plans, or so he thought when he bought her a ring and she accepted, but old story, Jody had been up to his old tricks (“ain’t no sense in goin’ home, Jody got your girl and gone”) and by the way, she wrote that he was stupid for being in the military and she was morally superior to all that and some other things as well. He took it pretty well but wasn’t gonna let that go, no sir. So, he gave it a couple months to let things cool down, then one weekend that he wasn’t on the duty roster, hatted up after Friday afternoon formation and drove back home (call it a Northern state located somewhere around Pennsylvania or Ohio) to get a little payback. He poured a gallon can of gasoline over the car he’d bought for her and lit it, then drove back to Georgia and was standing tall and looking good for Monday morning formation. There were two or three of us would have cheerfully sworn he’d been there all weekend, but he never got questioned about it. C’est la Guerre.
ooh dayum…
Hey Jean, is a large part of your wardrobe and home decor black?