Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

A Perfect Murder
by Nancy Sweetland

A perfect murder?

Sure. What wife hasn’t contemplated that. But contemplation is one thing and putting the thought into action is quite another.

Isn’t it?

When I first decided to earn my two maillion of insurance money instead of just falling into it (should James be generous enough to have a fatal heart attack or be stung by a hoard of killer bees), I knew the only way was to off James while I was still young enough to enjoy the fruits of my clever plan.

But, damn it! I didn’t have a clever plan.

I sat in the sun porch overlooking the river, wracking my brain for that elusive scheme, but nothing came to mind. What did come was James, busting with good health, swinging his tennis racket and chortling “Did I whomp Pete today, you ask? And I answer, Yes, Ma’am, I did. Six-love, six-two, six-three.” He bent down and kissed the top of my blond-tipped hair. “Want a drink? I do.”

I watched him deftly mix two dry martinis behind the bar that faced out into the room. His sun-streaked hair (he plays lots of tennis), just beginning to grey at the temples, still fell attractively across his forehead A fine figure of a man. So what’s the matter with him? Why do I want him out of my life?

Because I’m sick of his good nature. He never has a bad day. Worse yet, he never lets me have one. “Ah, you’re a little down,” he’ll say. “What can I do to bring you up?”

“Nothing. Just leave me alone,” I answer. But he doesn’t. He cajoles. He tickles. I hate being tickled.

“Your drink, m’love.” James handed me my brimming glass without spilling a drop. He sat across from me and stretched out his long, well-muscled legs. “And what have you been thinking about so seriously this morning?”

Would he be surprised if I told him? “Oh, just planning your murder, Sweetheart,” I said, smiling.

He smiled back and toasted me with his glass “Ah, the quintessential comedienne,” he said. “Cheers.”

I lifted my glass. “Cheers.” And then the plan came, clear as my martini. “Let’s take a whirlpool, shall we?’
He raised his eyebrows. “Before noon? You feeling all right?”

“Peachy. Never better.” I smiled seductively. “We can play torpedo. Like the old days.”

He grinned. “Race you to the bathroom.”

Ten minutes later we were up to our necks in bubbles, playing footsie, rubbing each other’s toes. “So what were you really thinking about?” James asked, running his arched foot up my thigh.

He was good at that sort of stuff, but I didn’t want to be distracted, “Your murder” I said. “Really.”

James squinted at me. “Come on. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” I said, and grabbed his legs to pull his head under the water. I threw myself on top of him to hold him down.

He struggled a little, but not much. I am pretty strong.

Then he didn’t move.

What the hell? Wasn’t he going to fight me?

He didn’t. Well, I thought, surprised, that was easy. I waited, thinking to give him half a minute more.
That was too easy.

Suddenly he burst up out of the water, hair covered in white bubbles, looking ridiculous. I barely had time to take a deep breath before he grabbed me around the throat and forced me under. I could hear him yelling over the whirlpool motor, “How do you like it? Huh? Fun? My murder, huh? Oh, I’m so dam sick of doing anything in the world to pull you out of your damn depressions. Die! Die!”

Then he pulled me up and we sat in the bubbles, grinning like fools at each other.

“Torpedo, huh?” he said, sliding me onto his lap. “Fire!”

***

Sweetland's publications include over 100 short stories and articles in regional and national circulation magazines including Mysterical-e, Buffalo Spree, True Story, Snowy Egret, Space & Time, The Gem, The Church Herald, Above the Bridge, Murderous Intent, Tucumcari Review, Phantasm, Woman’s World (Australia), Thema, and others, along with seven children’s picture books and adult novels from Wild Rose Press and Amazon.com.She is a member of the Mystery Writers of America, Sister’s in Crime, the Short Mystery Fiction Society, Council for Wisconsin Writers, Wisconsin Writers Assn., the Society for Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, and Scripters Manuscript group.