There were no curtains. The window was a hard-edged block, the color of the night sky. Inside the room the darkness was intense. Silence. She was lying there all decked out in her finery. One of her best and favorite outfits in life. How could she have guessed that her favorite blue suit with a soft fur collar would be what she would wear into eternity. She had flowers all around her and a make-up application on that would suit the Queen of Egypt. She looked lovely. She looked lovely in death. He wanted to touch her, but somehow he knew it would be inappropriate. At least right now with all the people in the room, but he knew after they had made their last goodbyes and the ceremony was over that he could hold her hands and speak to her soul one last time, before they committed her to the earth. He was just sad he would never look into her eyes again.
Then to the amazement of everyone at the funeral she sat up and glared at him. The funeral had been an intricate trick to rouse him from his illusion of safety. If he thought she was dead then she could not tell anyone how he had murdered her. Her lips were forever sealed, he thought. He did not really love her, not the proper way anyway. His love was sick, a sick love. He had used her while she was alive, and then when she was no longer useful he had cruelly and without much remorse planned her death. She was worth a lot of money to him dead. The insurance you know, around $100,000 dollars. He had been having an affair with a younger woman who had known he was planning on murdering his wife. Together they had schemed for the right time and opportunity to do her in. He and his new girlfriend were already starting to enjoy the fruits of her death by now. The house, the cars, the bank accounts, her contacts… but what he did not know was that she had survived. He had thought she was dead when he had pushed her car into the frozen river. He had pounded her head into the pavement very hard and with great force. He had heard the crunch of her skull.
However she was miraculously not dead. And the intensely cold water had revived her. Somehow she had been able to escape the grip of the frozen river and her broken and shattered car just in time. Just barely. She had almost drowned. She was so weak and injured that she had almost died. But the iciness of the water had actually revived her into a vicious kind of fight for survival and she had struggled madly to be free of the car and river. She had clawed and fought her way out of the car to the surface of the water. There she had been rescued, grabbed, and towed to safety by two very strong arms. A man had pulled her to shore. A very handsome man, and he just happened to be a policeman too. Someone had seen her floundering in the water and they had called the police. The policeman had pulled her out of the freezing water just before she drowned. She told him who had done this to her. She told him it was her husband.
Together they devised an elaborate scheme to catch him totally red-handed so that he along with his new girlfriend would be charged with insurance fraud and attempted murder. They already had enough proof anyway, for one thing her husband was not smart enough to shield his phone calls when he talked to the younger woman on the phone. The police had tapped his and her phone and they had all the juicy details on tape. But this intricate little scheme just added to the joy of the capture. There was a good chance it would work, and the policeman wanted to make sure they got him real good. No cover-ups or explanations. The policeman wanted to downright nail him to the cross. The plan was to shock, surprise, and scare him, and it had worked all to well. When her husband saw her sit up at the funeral the shock had been so great and overwhelming that he screamed “Your dead, I killed you!” It was not a thought out reaction, most obviously, it was shrieked in sheer horror. And she replied “No, but you might as well be dead. I just killed you.”
JANE À PARIS
Copyright ©2008 JANE À PARIS
Surprises are the best.