I am writing a story after a very long time. Also, this story is unedited so anyone who is a language/spelling Nazi is requested to stop reading here.
From the corner of my eye I could see her coming down the stairs. I picked up the phone and started speaking in it, loud enough for her to listen.
"You will know today if my wife is cheating or not. I want you to go to the PIs office and collect the evidence. If she is cheating arrange for a home invasion tomorrow between noon and three PM. Shoot me in the shoulder and shoot her in the head. I do not want her to survive. If she is cheating on me she dies tomorrow." I said as I saw her reflection in the stein on the mantel. "Her lover dies in a mugging next month or better still beat him to within an inch of his life and repeat randomly for the rest of his life."
She took an about turn and walked back up the stairs. I sat down and finished my cup of coffee. On a Saturday this was the first thing I did in the morning as opposed to checking my blackberry. I do not work weekends and not likely to start in the near future. Actually, I hate working on any given day. My name is James Maitland Dixon, I am a 35 year old owner of a construction company and my wife is Trudy Dixon, a fiery 32 year old redhead.
There is some background here to share. She is a stay-at-home wife and we have no children. I am quite well covered from her infidelity by a pre-nuptial and honestly, I cannot find any reason for her to cheat. I am fantastic in bed, a very attentive husband, good provider and I treat her family well. In fact, I just paid for her father's hip replacement and also paid for a nice vacation for him and my mother-in-law once he recovered.
It was a gradual thing, her affair. I had an inkling of it when she started spending too much time on her computer. Every time I went by her, she was on her email. I asked her a few times why she was so much on her email as we have lived in this town forever and all our friends and family were just a phone call away and she said something about one of her cousin going through a divorce and wanting to vent out on emails with her. Well, one time I went over to her computer and asked if I could look up a picture that was on her computer and she dropped everything in the kitchen (literally dropped the utensils) and said she would shut stuff down so it could be quicker for me. She covered 12 flights of stairs faster than I covered six steps. Well, I am computer literate and knew it was bull but let her do it. And then another time, she must not have realized I had gotten off my couch and was approaching her. She literally put her arm over her laptop screen and then ended up closing it as I got closer. These were potential red flags and one night after getting her drunk and off to sleep, I installed a keylogger on her computer. She was cheating. It was a new physical affair but the emotional affair had been going on for the last six months. I needed proof and I needed a plan to humiliate her and leave her defenseless.
Six thousand dollar later the PI gave me a full report of her affair. Of course, the private investigator was hired by a pregnant woman who was doing a background check on my wife before talking about adoption with us. There was nothing that could point to me. The pregnant woman has since left for Mexico, where she originally came from. So, technically I have never even hired a PI to follow my wife.
I have tried to be a good husband, I have. The whole system sides the wife, although in my case the Prenup is a big saving grace. You see, in our society, a guy needs to perform financially, be a great father, and a husband that can read the clues around what his wife is saying, and not take it personally when she rejects him in bed at the end of the day. And trust me; I have been all that and more.
So, after overhearing my conversation with my henchman, she said that she was going out for a few hours and would be back before dark. I knew what was going on. I had not given her much time before her impending death and she wanted to trump me or at least safeguard herself.
An hour later there was a knock on the door and I found a patrol car parked in front of my house and a patrolman standing at my doorstep.
"What can I help you with, officer?" I asked
"Your wife came by the precinct and lodged a complaint that you had hired a hit man to kill her and that your plan was to have her killed tomorrow. " He said, as his eyes darted all over the place checking out if something was out of the ordinary.
"No. I have not hired anyone and anyway, I guess you will have to wait till tomorrow evening to charge me with something, ain't that right?" I said nonchalantly.
"You will have to come to the prescient and answer a few questions." He said.
"I will be there tomorrow morning at 10 with my brief. I will, however, need an address and name of a person who I have to meet." I said.
"I am afraid that you will have to accompany me right now." The officer said.
"You can be afraid all you want, but show me an arrest warrant and I will gladly come with you. I will not come to the station without being arrested, if you want me there today." I said.
"This is highly irregular, sir." He said.
"I know. All you have to do is arrest me to take me there." I smiled, you see, my wife's lover was the chief of police who was on some charity that she was. Once I was wrongfully arrested I was planning on having his job snatched away faster than he could say "What happened?"
The officer went outside and called someone from his car radio and then waited in his car looking intently at the door. Within five minutes I was dressed and off to have a nice burger at the local bar where all my football buddies would be at this hour.
Of course the patrolman followed me and in fact went into the pub with me and kept observing me from a distance. Within half an hour another patrolman arrived and showed him some papers. After that they started to walk towards me.
"I have a warrant for your arrest here," he said as he handed me the paper, "I am afraid, you will have to come with me."
.... There is more of this story ...