The once salmon and purple sky of the lingering day was replaced by the black curtain draped sky transforming into a vast expanse of darkness that engulfed the town. But she loved it. The night was simply perfect. Perfect to kill.
The bulb in the restaurant glowed with disdainful efficiency. But it was not difficult for her to spot the woman sitting across the far end of the room. She could recognise her anywhere and was certain it was the same woman who had been relentlessly pursuing them for the past couple of days. But she was never the one to worry. She knew all about that woman and her own husband.
She had known for a long time. The rosy, faded salmon shade of lipstick she had found on her husband’s handkerchief flatly refuted her own shade of fiery red which represented her energy, passion and ofcourse, her murderous rage. She got a whiff of her husband’s shirt which smelt of cheap perfume. It had to be that woman.
Her husband nudged her and brought her back to the present.
“Is something bothering you, my dear?”
“Its nothing, darling.” She lied and glanced across the room to find the woman gone. She was happy to be safely cocooned in the arms of the man she could kill for.
” Time to go for a ride, bi**h!” She muttered under her breath.
She preferred to walk home from the restaurant. It was raining, abysmally. She loathed the rain. It reminded her of all the beautiful moments she had spent with him. The sight of him wrapped in the arms of another woman was too much for her. Anger seized her, her fingers refused to move, blood throbbing in her temples, she decided that she hated his wife with a passion and wouldn’t blink twice while putting a bullet through her insufferable self.
She hastily thrust the .22 caliber into her purse when she heard the doorknob open.
“Going somewhere, sweetheart? Should I drop you? ” Her husband asked in his sweet voice. The same voice which had made her fall so madly in love with him. There was no way she would let anyone else have him.
“No. This is something I need to do on my own.” Her tone was firm.
He was sure of being followed for a long time now. Wherever he went, he heard soft footsteps behind him. He was almost certain it was a woman. He had started to grow really frightened of her.
At his wit’s end, he decided to go to his apartment , lock himself up, and continue his work. He had to put an end to it.
” Hello? Sheriff? Sir, you need to come here immediately. There’s been a murder.”
Sheriff Smith put down his coffee cup and grabbed his uniform. ” I will be right there.”
The crime scene was like any usual one. There were no signs of forced entry. The victim, a man in his late thirties, was bathed in his own blood and had an unusually serene expression in his lifeless face.
” Victim has been shot through the head. Could have been a suicide too. Neighbours say that he was a writer and was working on a suspense novel. Turns out that he had become increasingly paranoid since the last few weeks and complained of being followed by a woman. Sometimes, two. What used to bother him that he couldn’t reach an ending for his novel and that made him crazy. ” Said the sergeant.
Sheriff Smith gazed pitifully at the dead man’s battered head. His eyes shifted to the corner of the table, to the manuscript of his unfinished novel. “THE OTHER WOMAN.” By John Wayne.
He opened tattered pages of the book and started reading –
The once salmon and purple sky of the lingering day was replaced by the black curtain draped sky transforming into a vast expanse of darkness that engulfed the town….