The temperature in her cell is dropping steadily throughout the night, yet she is so warm. After years of being the abused wife she has found piece. She will bleed no more, shed no more tears. She has fought and she has won.
“So Mrs. Copola, what happened the night you killed your husband?”
Hmm. What a night that was, wasn’t it. I remember he was in the garage, fussing over the broken radiator in the car. He was sweating a little. You know I always liked to watch him work on that hunk of junk. I would watch each droplet of sweat drip down his biceps and think oh what a lucky girl am I. Of course I was wrong but what does that matter now really?
Her cigarette is lit, the room is dim. The fire from the match lights up her red lips, her pink nails. Her wedding ring has a rainbow glow to it. Detective Miley Crossbows stares fascinated at the woman who killed her lover, when she never could.
“The night you killed your husband please.”
That my dear was a great night. I’m just sorry I got to him first. I can see how much you wish it was you to finally fuck him to death. But honey I was the one married to a rapist killer son of a bitch. And can you believe I didn’t know until a few months ago? Oh. I remember now. I always wondered why you never responded to my claims of him killing those poor girls. You must have thought me the jealous house wife. Silly you.
Laughter. High pitched squeeling. Eye rolls.
“Mrs. Copola…. You’re completely right. And between you and me I’m not so much angry that you killed that asshole as I am angry that I wasn’t there.”
What a pity.
“You’re free to go. Your alibi is air tight. Baking pies with me at the time of death. Pity we may never find the guy who killed your husband…”
She sneers. She stands.
Hmm. Pity. I’ll see you around sugar.