A husbands meaty death

I remember it vividlyIt was a completely normal evening, he came home and I was waiting for him as per usual. I was quaking in my boots; I smoothed my hair checking for fly away, watching the clock tick away until the moment he opened to door I was on my feet. I made his drink. Two parts Scottish whisky and one part cola. Strong, but he liked it like that. I had a weaker one and I remember sipping it and looking at him so lovingly, that it seemed a man so perfect as him could hurt me so And he finished his drink, in one gulp and I thought it was unusual at the time but I brushed it off, thinking he was going to tell me about his day. I asked him if I could get his slippers, but No he said. Darling would you like me to get you some cheese? He said no. Then he told me to sit down. And then the words that came from his made me watch him in a sort of dazed horror. He told me there wasnt any other way, but hed give me money and make sure Id get looked after. My first instinct was that wasnt true, to not believe any of it. Maybe he hadnt even spoken and Id imagined the whole thing. Maybe, maybe if I went about my business, I would surely wake up and find out that nothing had happened. It was all a terrible dream. If only. I managed to say that Ill get the supper, and I walked across the room feeling as nausea and a desire to vomit. I went down to the cellar and grabbed the first thing in the freezer, which happened to be wrapped in butchers paper. It was a leg of lamb. Dinner. We were going to have lamb for supper. So I carried it upstairs holding it by the bone with both of my hands. I remember him standing in the living room with his back to me by the window. The fire crackling away merrily, smug as can be. And he cussed at me. Telling me not to make supper for him, he was going out. I walked towards him and swung the leg of lamb high and without any hesitation, I brought I down on the back of his neck. The surge of anger and adrenaline had put me in a daze. I might have well hit just him with a steel club. I stepped back and he stood there for at least four or five seconds and he wavered and fell to the carpet with a dull thud. The violence of the crash, the noise, the small table overturning, woke me out of the shock. The reality of the situation sunk in. Alright then I thought Ive killed him. The gentle ticking of the clock in the kitchen brought me to my senses. I composed myself. I stared at his body. It lay sprawled on the ground, face down, his arms splayed out. On his head is a large cut that is already gushing blood. From the glass top where he hit it as he fell. I remember the smell of blood beginning to set in the room. So I left taking the leg of lamb with me. I grab the phone and dial the police. Hello this is the police.

Hello, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner for my husband and I went I heard a racket in our living room. Someone has broken in and killed my husband! I had said with fake hysteria. Calm down, maam. Now, did you see anyone when you went into the living room? The warm gentle voice of the Officer asks me. N-no. I heard them run down the porch and into the forest near our house. I sniffed and make my voice waver in all the right places. Where is your husband now? he asked. I faked a sob. Lying in the living room floor. Hes bleeding and oh I hope hes not dead! Please come quickly! I cried into the phone. Yes, maam. Can I get your address? I gave him our address, hung up with fake sobs of emotion. I set the phone down on the holder and took a tray from the oven setting it on a bench. My ingredients are already out, and lined up in order. The thyme that was grown in our garden. The lovely creamy white potato. The succulent tomatoes. I prepare dinner. Looking back on it now, I suppose I was unaware of the daze I was in. The abnormality of the situation had caused me to react normally. I knew the officers would take a fair amount of time to get to our property. Even longer, if they took the bad route. It was a thirty-five minute drive from the nearest town and 10 kilometres from our nearest neighbours. Enough time to have supper cooked. I cut up the potatoes, tomatoes, carrots. I season the lamb with my herbs and paint a coat of butter over the vegetables before popping it into the oven setting the timer for an hour and a half. As I washed my hands I have a brainwave. I take a pair of my husbands old runners and slip them on. After opening the door, I make tracks from the mud making a line from the porch to a place in the trees where the tracks are then lose from the layer of leaves on the floor. I make my way back up to the house and up to the porch. I trace some steps in the living room then match the tracks back up to the ones from the start of the steps. I take the shoes off. Then I go to the fire place. Its coming into later days of autumn and I toss the old runners into the fire place watching the flames lick the shoes to ashes. A ghost of a smile crosses my face and I let go Theres still so much to be done. I clucked to myself, shaking my head at the scene in the living room. The ether of death is settling, the darkened blood has soaked into my pristine carpet and I felt an urge to scrub it clean. Instead, I go to the kitchen and pop a pair of oven mitts on before opening the door and poking a skewer into the roast.

The sound of tires and grinding gravel startled me. I shut the door to the oven and peer through the kitchen window as the police car arrives, parking smartly next to his. I took a deep breath and thought of the unforgiving words I had been told earlier and answered the door. Oh, Im so glad youre here! I cried opening the door to the Policemen who tip their hats at me. Maam, the taller one says. Can you help me? Can you tell me if hes still alive? I request hurriedly seemingly in a state of panic. A taller man with a kind face comes in with a second man short and dark haired with a sharp face. I clasp my hands and shake as I wait for them to assess the body and let silent tears run down my face prettily. The sharp faces man touches his neck, then his wrist and the looks up. Of course I already knew. Hes got no pulse, he says. I let the stream of tears flow, making sure its been a good ten minutes before the two Policemen can calm me down with a box of tissues and a blanket wrapped around myself. How long ago did this happen? The tall one asks. I peer at the clock through watery eyes. Almost an hour ago. I say shakily bringing the blanket closer over me. And what were you doing at the time of your husbands death? I was making dinner, I remember just sliding the roast into the oven when I heard glass breaking, and a loud thump. So I rushed out and he was already on the ground. All I heard was the sound of someone running into the forest and by then they were gone. I shudder and blow my nose. And did you touch the body? asked the shaper faced Officer looking me dead in the eye. I should have felt unnerved by this eye contact any other day, but I looked him steely in the eye. No, I, I couldnt. It was sickening seeing him lay there like that I let my voice trail off, pretending to recount the ordeal in my head. Through my tears I see the two look at each other. Was your front door locked at all when this happened? asked the taller policeman kindly. I blew my nose again. Yes, of course. I said instinctively, but I look thoughtful and then continued. My husband did say last week that someone stole his keys when he was at work. I knew for a fact he told me he dropped it down a drain when crossing the road. Of course, they wouldnt know this. And is there anyone you and your husband know that would have done this to him? is the last question he asks. I shook my head. No, no. I cant imagine anyone wanting to do this. He was a lovely man. Loyal, friendly, lion hearted. I dont know I wish I knew who it wasI might have stopped them, I cried and let the tears flow as the taller officer pats my shoulder. Now, now maam. Its not time for foolish thoughts like that. Well find the killer, and the weapon that murdered your husband, dont you worry.

I dont believe I can thank you both enough. I tell the Policemen gratefully. I dont suppose I can get you both a drink? I exclaim suddenly standing up and scurrying to the kitchen collecting a lager for both. Sorry Maam, we cant accept these. Said the kind faced Policemen. I smiled through my tear stained face and try to give the impression of a widowed housewife trying to be friendly. No please, I insist. I place the beers on the coasters where each officer sits at the table. The timer for the oven goes off and I rush back into the kitchen. I opened the oven. The smeel of pure indulgence and aromatic herbs, lamb and vegetables fill the air and I make sure the Officers smell it. I take out the roast and set 3 plates on the dinner table. I take the gravy from the fridge and place it into the microwave. Finally I turn around at the two Policemen. We must be going now, the shorter Officer said glancing at his watch. He stands up taking his coat. The coroner will have to be informed and Maam Im afraid you will have to come to town to make a statement for us. He sounds apologetic and does not look as sharp as before. I insist you both stay for dinner. I have a lovely roast cooked that was meant for I trail off sniffling then smile shakily. The kinder Officer looks at his co-worker. It would be a waste for a delicious meal such as this to go uneaten, The shorter man sighed and gave me a genuine smile as he pulled his chair and sat down. I place I suppose the coroner can wait. He said cheerfully. And I wouldnt turn down a supper that looks as swell as this made from a swell girl such as yourself Maam. I fake blush and set the gravy and greens onto the table. I take out two lagers and a glass of wine for myself. Then I take out the carving knife and set it on the table. Dinner is served.