An Innocent Woman – The Saturn Herald

AN INNOCENT WOMAN – A Saturn Herald Short Story by Penny Nair Price

Would anyone ever discover his deep secret? It seemed he had committed the perfect crime and he had got away with it – his most hated enemy was now ten feet under – and all because she was a cheating swine. He walked away from her grave, reminiscing deeply about their married life together, and as he did so, the sun started to shine and the clouds cleared.

“Till death do us part” Ha! That was the joke. He remembered how she had begged with him for a ring he could barely afford. And all that time, she was two-timing him with someone else. The illicit phone calls, the secret meetings, when she made a different excuse every time for the reason why she was always out on a Tuesday evening.

She must have thought he was really stupid – an ignoramus who seemed to have lots of money. Now – yes he had money now from a successful business which he had built up over the years whilst she was seeing him. The hurt at the betrayal – he had felt it keenly. But women like her were cheap and dispensable. And that’s just what he planned to do – dispense with her! Of course, he wasn’t stupid like she thought. He knew if he had to kill her, he had to be very careful to cover up all the clues. Not that she was very good at covering things up though – she had left so many clues he almost laughed at the fact, even though deep down he still loved her – well, he was that kind of man; his heart and soul were invested in his love for her – he was a one-woman man. But it would be so satisfying to feel that he had nights ahead of him when he knew she was no longer betraying him. It still got to him how he could love his worst enemy, and make love to her at least once a week. Her crooning, feminine wiles, along with her gorgeous body meant that he hated even more the woman he slept with, knowing she was a love cheat and a fraud. Why oh why couldn’t he have met a plainer member of the female sex? A woman with less experience and less confidence? Of course, her year in Australia was probably spent getting experience and rehearsing for the performances which she gave in his bed!

Sometimes he wondered why she had chosen him – after all, he was not wealthy until after the marriage – so why him? And then, after the wedding, she wouldn’t go anywhere with him, preferring to stay in, feigning shyness. The sort of marriage he wanted was different. He wanted his wife to be his best friend, to share confidences, and to present a united front to the world, and to be seen together – often. But of course, her part of the marriage was a sham. Since the real love of her life was already spoken for, she lived her life with her blinkers on, so to speak, except when she was with him – the other man!

He knew what he looked like, oh yes! He’d had the detectives onto them. Private dicks cost a fortune. But now he knew who his adversary was. Still, to tell the truth, there had never been one photo or piece of evidence that they were “doing it”. Well, how could one expect that? The dick could hardly follow them into the other man’s house, and microphones and all that fancy palaver couldn’t be planted right in his bedroom. It would have even been out of HIS price range if that had been done!

His brief case had a combination lock on each side. Of course, she could never get in there and see the photos of the two of them which he kept there – and pored over, day in and day out at the office. He still kept a photo of them on their wedding day in the case too – he really was a soppy old romantic, he told himself.

Many was the day when he planned the murder. At first, he had thought it would be better to murder the lover, not her. But then, she could still not feel the genuine emotion for him which he craved. He thought again about her passion between the sheets – what a convincing little vixen she was. She obviously had a taste for titillating sessions in bed no matter what she did outside it.

But how to commit the perfect crime? He was a respected member of society with a good business, and a nice house – he was a veritable pillar of the community. Poison? Well, an autopsy would always reveal that! Hire a gunman? Well, a gunman is always in someone’s payroll, and a shooting is clearly a murder. A hit and run? The police in this country were not as thick as some people thought – they would trace the offending vehicle, by hook or by crook, knowing them, and it would all come back to the accusations and the arrests…..

He would, in any event, miss the nights of passion – she was the only woman he had ever properly bedded for any length of time, and his sex life was totally satisfactory, but he still harboured dreams of finding a faithful lover, whom he could trust implicitly.

He made a little list in his notebook, using a special code which he had always employed at school so that no-one else could decipher it. Translated it read….suicide, poison, hitman, hit and run, breaking in with murder…when he had done with her, then he would turn his attention to him – he knew well enough where he lived.

But the thought of the murder began to drive him to drink, and worse, sleepless nights. There was his life, after the murder. How would he occupy his time? Should he find a replacement for her before her death? What would it be like to never make love to her again? He was twisted with agony and the fight between love and hate.

At first he would simply drink, having arrived home from the office. And she noticed. She asked him why he was drinking too much – even their sex life began to suffer. He began to lose interest in making love to her, but he lay awake thinking how strange it was to lie next to someone who would soon be dead. The continuing thoughts of how to get rid of her suffused his being and his every waking moment. She became more attentive – started wearing more revealing and tight fitting clothes – well, after what she’d done, there would be absolutely no response to that tactic! What a cheap sham. He began to loathe the very scent of her near him, and could no longer enjoy any proximity to her. He even suggested getting single beds. Of course, this lady of leisure living on his income was taken aback. Perhaps she thought he was being unfaithful. She simply had not got the message anywhere along the line that he knew what she was up to – the woman thought she could have her cake and eat it – well, he would show her! And the displays of affection became more and more profuse – she began to vocalise how much she cared about him. Well, they had had their share of romance over the years, no doubt, but he was shocked to see her coming on to him like a newly wed – ha! He had got her worried at any rate.

As his drinking grew worse, he began to pack a small flask of something to get him through the day. He would stay late at the office, and drink the flask, before setting off for home. It was only a short drive. Tuesdays were always worst, because she would most probably be out seeing him. On that day he would drink heavily, sometimes stopping at the pub before driving home as carefully as he could under the circumstances.

And now this! The “murder” had become a drink driving event! It was in all the newspapers. “Husband runs down wife by accident”. She had been crossing the road, probably coming back from a visit to “Him” when he ran straight into her! What a piece of luck that one of his best friends was the policeman who had come to his aid. He had faked the breath test, somehow, so he was in the clear. Would you believe it? All a most unfortunate accident at a notorious black spot.

He looked behind him one last time at the place where she was buried and prepared to get in one of the cars to go to the funeral gathering at a nearby hotel. Of course, her relatives had arrived, but shunned him – what could one expect?

Suddenly an arm gently squeezed his elbow.

“Excuse me”

It was “him” – the man in the photo! Her other man, her lover, the traitor’s amour! He didn’t let a flicker of his thoughts cross his face, but waited for an explanation, his heart racing like mad. The man’s face was pale,and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he seemed like a familiar figure, being that he had been photographed several times by the detective, who had given the pictures to his employer.

“I’m sorry to bother you but I think you should know – she and I were very close. We met at a party years ago – and discovered we were half brother and sister. You see, before her second marriage, my mum was her dad’s mistress – it’s all a bit complicated. Fortunately we found out. We never got romantically involved but we both felt we had a bond between us, so we had stayed friends ever since that meeting. I will really miss her – we used to meet every Tuesday night – just friends, though…nothing more of course. I feel so sad about what has happened – she loved you so very much, and said you had a very happy marriage. Not to put too fine a point on it, she was totally obsessed with you!

Challenging thoughts flashed through his mind – hectic and confused, but he could make no sense of them. Thoughts of her, and their love. The detective – that swine – well he was really in for it now – that stupid, bungling bastard – he would get him for sure and no mistaking. His mind raced as he put together a plot to ensure the detective would never have one happy day on earth before his definite demise. And her…. gone forever – oh God, what had he done? And where would it all end?

He realised he must have appeared very strange to the man who had come up to talk to him. He pulled himself together and forced a slight smile.

“Well. Thank you for telling me. It has helped to make the burden of losing her a little easier for me”. He gushed emotionally.

He half anticipated that now the two men must have a meeting – a drink of coffee, a beer together – there was a sudden bond between them. But first, he had to work out a plan – the detective was next on his list…..