Cheating is Murder

The full gravity of her situation finally began to dawn on her, as well as a deadly certainty. It was fully five minutes before she responded. The two detectives seemed happy to let her take her time.

"I think I need a lawyer."

"No shit Sherlock. Jane Brown, I am arresting you for the murder of David Brown. You do not have to say anything, but anything..."

At that point Jane fainted.

Jane was remanded overnight, until 11AM next day, when a judge set her bail at $250,000 and ordered her to surrender her passport. She was able to access a loan account to transfer the money to a business account. She caught a cab home. That night, the absolute shell of a woman that had been on top of the world a mere eight days before, contemplated the future. A woman that once had everything. She had accepted the fact that her husband was dead. What she couldn't face was the realisation that she'd caused it. The guilt and remorse she felt almost stopped her heart. She tried to imagine Dave's face in happier times, but images of him gasping his last breath on her kitchen floor prevented that. The mental image of his plastic wrapped face staring at her as the trunk closed, ate into a soul no longer armoured by denial.

She sat in the kitchen in a daze. The phone rang and the beaten shell automatically answered it. It was Dennis.

"Jane, you have to help me. I rang Andrea and she said she's left me and cleared out our bank accounts. You have to bail me out; please."

"Okay Dennis."

She went back on line and transferred another quarter of a million from the loan account. Using her new found knowledge she was able to pay the second bond.

The next day, shortly before lunch, Dennis rang again.

"Thanks lover. Can I come and see you? I really need a hug right now."

"Okay Dennis, see you soon."

As soon as she heard the cab pull up outside, she stood up and went to the door. The shell of Jane Brown opened the door. Whatever tiny part of her sanity that remained snapped when she saw an ogre standing on her porch.

"You lying, murdering bastard! You killed my Dave!"

Raising her husband's pistol, she pulled the trigger. She didn't see the look of shock on its face as the monster was blown backwards, a 0.45 inch hole in the centre of its chest. It went down so fast that the second bullet went over its head. The last six hit though, smacking into the twitching body lying on the path.

With the gun still clutched in a suddenly limp fist, something slumped to the top step with its back against the doorframe, as the spirit of Jane Brown fled.

Epilogue

Ruth arrived at her sister's house, mentally prepared for the grim task of putting Jane's affairs in order. Noticing there was mail in the box, she retrieved it. Mostly bills but one postcard. With the common logic of, 'if people wanted to keep the message on postcards private they would use an envelope', she picked it up.

On the front was a photograph of a beautiful beach on Grand Cayman. On the back, simply the words, "Wish you and Dennis were here. Love D & A."

What was that all about? She kept going into the house.

The end.

Dear reader. Some may think the punishment is a little harsh. I have seen enough of the aftermath of infidelity (in both sexes) to liken it to the murder of love and trust. In extreme cases it causes the aggrieved to have absolutely no chance of ever living a normal life. Some change their name to Anonymous and lead bitter and twisted lives lambasting well-meaning author's stories and calling them "closet cucks" for forgiving their spouses or stopping short of leaving them as a cooling, twitching corpse.

For any RAACs that made it this far. I did warn you.

One of my reviewers has pointed out that this story has a passing resemblance to 'A Circumstantial Case', by Jake 60. Purely coincidence, as I didn't read it until I'd finished this.

Now lighten up.

The teacher tells the class what a parable is and gives them homework of researching a real life one.

The next day. Mary tells the story of her father needing to sell 12 chickens, so he bought 12 eggs and incubated them. Only 10 hatched, so he didn't have 12 chickens to sell. "What is the moral of that story, Mary?" "Don't count your chickens till they're hatched, miss." Mary gets a gold star.

Judy is up next and tells the story of her mother buying a dozen eggs which she carried home in a basket on the front seat. At one point she slammed on the brakes and all the eggs broke when the basket fell off the seat. "What is the moral of that story, Judy?" "Don't put all your eggs in one basket, miss." Judy gets a gold star.

You guessed it, the next speaker is Johnny. He relates a story told by his dad. His aunt, Shirl, was a fighter pilot shot down over Iraq. As she was coming down by parachute she saw she would land amongst about 100 enemy soldiers. A review of her possessions revealed a half bottle of whisky, an M60 machine gun and a machete. She drank the whisky, landed amongst the enemy, mowed 85 of them down with the gun then finished off the rest with the machete.

Of course the teacher was flabbergasted. "What is the moral of that story, Johnny?" "Dad says it's, don't fuck with Auntie Shirl when she's pissed."

Enjoy