#20 Bones in the Wood

by Tracy Davidson

My husband was arrested today for the murder of our neighbour, who disappeared several months ago. A dog dug up her bones in nearby woods.

It was, apparently, common knowledge in the neighbourhood that my husband had been having an affair with her, so it didn’t take the police long to come knocking.

I told them I hadn’t known about any affair. Which wasn’t true. I’m not stupid. The late nights at the office, faint traces of a perfume other than my own, the stupid smile he’d get on his face sometimes, when he didn’t know I was watching. Then there was the stray blonde hair (mine is brunette) I found on his shirt collar, and the faintest smudge of the gaudy coloured lipstick she favoured.

It was the forensics that did for my husband. The tie she was strangled with was still around her neck. My husband’s favourite tie, with only his and her fingerprints on it. A couple of his hairs trapped underneath. Traces of her DNA found all over his car, including the boot.

In spite of the evidence, he protests his innocence. Claims he was with me the night she disappeared. He wasn’t. Presumably he was waiting for her in a bar or cheap motel somewhere. I don’t know, don’t care. He was out of the way long enough for me to kill the bitch, plant the evidence. Now, finally, I’m free of them both.