Fools Mate

White Pawn to f3

I woke to find myself alone in the bed, the clock beside the bed showed 08.45 and I threw back the duvet and made my way to the bathroom. The other bedroom door was shut and as I could not hear any movement downstairs I assumed my wife was still sleeping. I took my dressing gown from the hook on the door and went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea.

We have been married for over thirty years, for the most part a happy marriage. In the beginning we had a very healthy and active sex life, but as age caught up on us, especially over the last ten years, bedroom gymnastics became a thing of the past. At first, I was a bit frustrated, and allowed myself to indulge in the occasional visit to a massage parlour when away on a business trip. Not a satisfactory solution really and I soon realised that there are a number of thirty to forty year old women who find the more mature executive attractive, especially if they too have a disinterested partner at home somewhere. Don’t misunderstand me, I would never have done anything to hurt my wife, but I don’t feel my age in the same way as she has. My sex drive was, and still is I suppose, as high as it was when I was twenty five.

Those brief affairs, that was all they were, affairs, kept me satisfied on that score. They were pure sex and nothing more, a convenience to both parties and no commitment to anything long term. I suppose you could say I had my cake and could also eat it. But that changed two years ago when I retired. Overall though, I’m happy with what I have; companionship, a nice house and garden and shared interests. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like if my wife were to pass away and leave me free to play the field again.

I finished my tea and went back upstairs to the bathroom to shave and shower, after which I dressed and went into the spare bedroom to wake my wife.

Black Pawn to e5

The bed was empty; I stared at it for a few moments and then realised she must have got up while I was showering and would be in the kitchen having her tea. When I entered the kitchen again I found the back door open and her teacup still on the side worktop with the tea bag still waiting for the hot water to be poured in. It wasn’t uncommon for either of us to walk around the garden in the early morning, so after switching on the kettle I stepped into the garden to join her. 

As I turned through the rose arch and onto the back lawn I froze. Lying, face down on the grass was my wife. For a moment I wondered what she was doing, then, realising that she was not moving I rushed forward and knelt beside her. Touching her neck for a pulse, I could feel her skin was cold and it took just a few moments to realise she was not breathing. I thought briefly of attempting resuscitation but I could see that there would be no point; she had obviously been dead for some time.

The police had arrived some moments after the paramedics. I had made cups of tea for them all and was standing on what we called the rear lawn with the man who had introduced himself as Detective Inspector Morris. I was explaining the layout of our garden, how the two lawns at the back of the house were separated by a rose arch and flower beds so that unless you stood in the middle of the one we were in, you could not see onto the other lawn. Nor could the back lawn, the one furthest from the house, be seen from the back of the house, even from the upstairs rooms.

“We don’t normally walk across the rear lawn,” I was saying, “we keep to the side path, through the arch and then on to the back lawn.” A young plain clothes officer, Burton I believe he was called, walked across and informed his superior that the medic examining the body would like a word. D.I. Morris apologised and left his subordinate with me while he went across to find out what the issue was. When he returned he seemed very serious and grim.

After I had explained once again the sequence of events leading up to the discovery of her body he asked “So do you normally sleep in separate bedrooms?”

“Well, yes and no,” I replied. “You see we don’t have separate bedrooms and more often than not we will go to bed together in the same room, the one I woke up in this morning. But we both tend to snore a bit, and it’s quite common for one or other of us to keep the other awake by it, so the one who is awake will just go into the other room to sleep.”

The Inspector looked thoughtful. “Would you say you and your wife have a good relationship?”

“Yes, of course. Why do you ask that?” He didn’t reply but turned to look at the other police officers who were collecting various garden items that lay discarded on the lawn and flower beds; we had been working there yesterday and had not bothered to put them away as it was our intention to continue this morning. A photographer was taking pictures of the body and various other aspects of the scene.

He turned to face me. “If I may remark on it, you don’t seem particularly disturbed by your wife’s death.”

I looked at him and said “I’m not really an emotional sort of person, Inspector, but quite frankly, I can’t seem to accept that this is real, it hasn’t sunk in yet.”

He nodded again. “I have to tell you that we are going to treat this as a suspicious death.”

“What!” I interjected.

“The preliminary examination suggests that the death was caused by a blow to the head with a blunt object a few hours ago, we will know more and have a more accurate understanding of the time after a full forensic examination has been carried out.”

“Are you suggesting I killed my wife?” I asked

“I’m not suggesting anything at this stage,” he replied. “I’m informing you of the facts as we know them at this time.” Both officers turned to look once more at the activity on the back lawn.

“What are you doing?” A voice asked; a voice I knew very well. 

I spun around to face my wife, standing behind me, holding two cups of tea and very much alive. I turned back to look at the scene on the back lawn only to find it was devoid of all activity or persons.

White Pawn to g4

Over the next few days I convinced myself that it had been a dream. At first I had worried that I was beginning some form of dementia and was hallucinating, but as there were no further occurrences I dismissed the thought of seeking any medical advice. In fact a few weeks later my biggest concern was the overriding urge to try and take advantage of the very blatant come-on that I was getting from a new barmaid at one of our local pubs. It was one thing when I was travelling away on business to consort with someone in another part of the country, but near to suicide to consider it in the same village. But, I confess, the thought of what she could offer wasn’t easy to ignore.

I had just settled myself into the armchair with the intention of finishing off a few Suduko puzzles while my wife was shopping when the doorbell rang. I opened it to have Detective Inspector Morris and his sidekick Burton show me their warrant cards and ask if they could come in. My mind was spinning, was this real, was I hallucinating, was I dreaming? I showed them into the lounge and offered them tea. They declined but sat in opposite chairs; I waited for them to speak.

“Sometimes we do not have an easy time investigating this sort of thing,” Began the Inspector.

“What sort of thing are you referring to?” I asked, somewhat amused.

“The unfortunate death of your wife.” Explained Burton.

“Oh that,” I responded, “Why don’t you wait until she gets back from shopping and explain it to her, I’m sure she would be interested.”

The two officers looked at each other. This time young Burton had a try.

“You believe your wife is shopping at the moment?” he asked, I nodded my reply. “And how did she get into town?” Burton continued gently

“She drove, in our car, which you will have noticed when you arrived, is not in our driveway.” I replied in a somewhat sarcastic tone. The Inspector looked out of the window.

“Do you mean that blue Peugeot?” he asked. I glanced through the window; the shock was almost a physical blow. I leapt to my feet for on the driveway, facing out towards the road, was our car. The way it was facing was significant, my wife cannot reverse into our driveway, and the car could have only been in that position if it had been me who parked it. That meant she had not returned from the shopping trip, nor, I realised, had she driven away in it.

The shopping precinct is not nearby and we only have two buses that serve the centre, neither of which would have been due at the time she had left for the trip. I felt faint, what was happening? As I sat back down, Burton spoke again. “We can put you in touch with some professional help if you wish; many people have difficulty coming to terms with the loss of someone close, especially in traumatic circumstances.” I mumbled an indistinct reply; I was trying to understand what was happening to me.

They allowed a few moments to pass in silence, and then the Inspector spoke again.”We came to tell you the result of our investigations. From the nature of the injury, and the garden implements we took for examination, it seems that your wife died by accident.” I looked blankly at him. “The evidence suggests that she stepped backwards on to a rake that was lying on the grass, as her heel came down it acted like a force on a lever and the handle came up and struck her on the head. We found binoculars nearby and conclude that she was looking skywards, thus her head was tilted back allowing the handle of the rake to strike where it did. Had she been looking forwards, the handle would have hit her back first and apart from possibly a small bruise, no harm would have been done. I’m really sorry.”

I nodded, trying to take in everything they were saying. “She liked bird watching” I explained just as the doorbell rang. “Excuse me.” I said as I rose and went to the front door. 

“Take this, and then come and help me with the heavy bags.” Instructed my wife. I looked at the car, which was now facing the house with the boot open. I turned and went back into the lounge, now empty of any visitors. 

Black Queen to h4

I woke to find myself alone in the bed, the clock beside the bed showed 06.45 and I threw back the duvet and made my way to the bathroom. The other bedroom door was open and I glanced in to confirm to myself that my wife was up. I took my dressing gown from the hook on the door and went downstairs to join her in a morning cup of tea.

On the way down I recalled my very vivid dream of myself and the new barmaid. I wondered if I would really still be as capable and energetic in bed with her as my dream had suggested. The way she brushed her body against me whenever I was in the pub, and the barely disguised innuendo made me quite certain she would be a willing partner.

When I reached the kitchen I found the back door open and both teacups on the side worktop with the tea bags still waiting for the hot water to be poured in. After switching on the kettle I stepped into the garden to join my wife. 

As I made my way along the path, my mind was still lingering on last night’s erotic dream. When I turned through the rose arch to the back lawn I saw my wife, binoculars to her eyes, walking slowly backwards towards a rake that had been left on the grass.