Pressure Cooker
Copyright© 2022 by Old Man with a Pen
Chapter 1
In the end, he called 911.
“911”
“Hello? 911?”
“Yes ... what is your emergency?”
“I think ... I know ... I need the police...”
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My wife is missing.”
“Please call 215-7450.”
He did.
What he didn’t know was 911 had already called. A patrol car was on the way.
“Knoxville Police. Sergeant McDonald speaking.”
“My wife is missing. I think she’s hurt.”
“What?”
“Hold on ... there’s someone at the door.”
She had never gone without telling him before and he was fairly scattered, dropping the phone and answered the door.
Two officers ... both with hands near their pistols. 911 from a private residence was often a ‘domestic asault.’
“That was quick,” he said. “Please, come in.”
Stepping over his cell, rather than stopping in the spotless livingroom, he led the way to the kitchen.
Just inside the doorway the two officers stopped, looked at each other and drew their guns.
The kitchen was a disaster. The walls were covered in blood, chunks of stainless steel and boiled dinner. The lid ... or what might have been the lid ... was buried in the ceiling over the stove. On the stove, heat still on, the remains of the pressure cooker was starting to smoke.
“I think the pressure cooker exploded,” he said, bewildered.
“Where...?” began the lead officer.
“I was in my study, and heard a muffled pop...” he started ... and stopped. He noticed the officers had drawn their weapons. “Do I need a lawyer?”
“Not yet,” said the second cop. He started speaking to his collar. “Yes, sir.” He holstered his pistol, took a pair of nitrile gloves from his pocket, put them on and moved around the lead cop and the ‘suspect’ and shut off the stove. The only thing missing was the wife ... or her body.
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