First Words

Nobody knew I killed her. I was so careful about it. I planned it for years. Everything was planned down to the letter. I treated that bitch like a goddess this last year. Put up with all her nagging and demands, put up with the way she belittled me, put up with anything I had to to convince everyone I “loved her” too much to do it. 

He could never do that! Martin worshipped Debbie!

That was what they were all saying to the police. I waited until the kids had graduated and left the house. I picked the perfect spot in a remote forest. My alibi? I had reported her missing. Said she never came home after an appointment she had. I had it all perfected. Not a living soul knew the truth.

As if to contradict this I heard a loud squawk behind me. I turned around. It was her stupid parrot, Archie. Yet another thing she nagged me about. She begged and begged for one, but when I finally got one it still wasn't good enough. Archie either didn’t talk or couldn’t talk, we didn’t know which but it didn’t matter to Debbie. It was just another thing I screwed up.

Christ, Martin! I ask for a parrot and you get me the only one in the world that can’t talk. Typical. You can’t do anything right. You could pick oranges from an apple tree, I swear!

Well, now she didn’t have to worry about Archie. Or anything else for that matter. I guess I could do something right. I walked over to his cage. He stared at me a moment before preening his feathers. I smiled, a silent witness to a perfect crime.

“Hey, there stupid bird!” I said cheerfully. “Say ‘Polly wants a cracker.’ Say it.”

He just stared at me. I laughed as I got dressed. Right now she was still classified as a “missing person” since they found no evidence of foul play.

That affair she was having really helped my situation. Debbie wasn’t exactly undercover material. I found out about it within a week of it happening. That idiot left her email open. Luckily, her “appointment” that day was with him. It was part of the reason I killed her that specific day. Who would the police believe, the loving husband or the secret lover she was last seen with?

I checked myself in the mirror. Too tidy. I started rubbing my eyes. The cops were stopping by again to “update me” about her case. I was guessing they probably knew about her boy-toy by now. I’d have to play the jilted fool who knew nothing about it. 

My wife? Never! You must have made a mistake!

I couldn’t help laughing as I thought about it. I’d better get all the giggles out now, it would be bad to crack up in front of the cops. My eyes were sore now, I stopped rubbing them. I checked the mirror again, they looked red and swollen. Perfect for a concerned husband. 

I heard Archie squawk again. I looked at him. The stupid bird didn’t even make a peep while I strangled her. Hell, you’d think he would have made some noise at least, but he was silent the whole time. Did he even notice what I was doing then? Guess he wasn’t really sorry to see her go either.

I glanced at her dresser. Her favorite scarf was there. Silk, dark green, and durable. Strong enough to kill her with anyway. I picked it up and smiled at the memory. The gasping, the pleading, the emptiness that suddenly filled her eyes as the last bits of life left them. Archie began squawking and hissing violently. I glanced over. His eyes were locked on the scarf. I chuckled, I guess he did notice what happened.

“Hey, Archie!” I said, waving the scarf at him. “Say ‘Martin killed Debbie!’ Go on, say it!”

He hissed again, I just laughed. I heard the doorbell downstairs. That would be them. I tossed the scarf on the bed and rubbed my sore eyes again. For good measure, I yanked a hair from my armpit. I felt the tears well up in my eyes. Perfect. As I opened the door the two officers looked at me with pity.

“Hello, Mr. Golan. May we come in?” The tall one asked.

I sniffled for effect. “Of course, please.”

They showed themselves to the living room and sat on the couch. I sat in my armchair, across from them. The shorter cop looked uncomfortable. The tall one cleared his throat.

“Sir, do you mind if we ask you some more questions?” He asked.

“Of course not! Anything you need to help find my Debbie,” I said desperately.

“Sir…” he trailed off slowly, “were you aware your wife was having an affair?”

I let my mouth hang open in shock. “My wife? Never! You must have made a mistake!”

The shorter one cleared his throat now. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Golan. Several of her friends admitted to knowing of the affair.”

I buried my head in my hands. It was all I could do to keep from laughing, but to them, my silent chuckles probably looked like sobbing. Everything was working out perfectly.

“I’m afraid there’s more, sir,” the tall one continued. “Upon interviewing the boyfriend he made accusations that you might be behind your wife’s disappearance.”

“Of course he did!” I shouted indignantly, snapping my head up. “That bastard lays his hands on my Debbie, then blames me when she’s missing? Tell me where he lives, if he wants to say something he can say it to my face!”

I was so giddy I was shaking, but, again, they probably took this as blind rage. The tall one almost seemed to regret telling me.

“Mr. Golan, I know this is upsetting, but it’s all necessary to help us find your wife,” the short one said calmly. “Could we search your bedroom again? Maybe we can find a clue to where she went. Are any of her clothes or luggage missing?”

“Not that I noticed, but please, go ahead,” I said motioning upstairs.

They nodded to me and went up. As they left I leaned back in my chair and smiled. How perfect. I strangled her. There wasn’t a drop of blood in sight. They could search until their eyes bled and they wouldn’t find anything.  A final sweep, a grieving but cooperative husband, and a spotless room. What could be better?

I suddenly heard shrieking from the bedroom. I jumped from my chair and ran upstairs. The cops were staring at the birdcage in shock. It was Archie who had been screeching. I saw, one of the cops had picked up Debbie’s scarf. Stupid bird! I tried to laugh it off.

“Oh, that’s just Archie! Debbie’s bird. Beautiful, but he doesn’t talk,” I said.

“Is he okay?” The tall one asked.

“Oh yeah,” I chuckled, grabbing the scarf. “He just hates this scarf. No clue why. Maybe he hates green.”

I waved the scarf around casually. The cops seemed to shrug off the incident. I smiled but glared daggers at the bird. I’d have to get rid of that thing, he was a pest anyway. I tossed the scarf at him as a final bit of vengeance. Archie hissed and jumped to the back of his cage to avoid the cloth.

“Martin killed Debbie! Martin killed Debbie!”

The hoarse croaking seemed to fill the room. I froze. So did the cops. All eyes turned to Archie.

“Martin killed Debbie! Martin killed Debbie!” He screeched again, violently pecking at the scarf on his cage.

The short cop ran over and grabbed the scarf from the cage. The other pulled out an evidence bag. Neither looked my way, but it didn’t matter. I was so frozen I couldn’t move.

Typical. You can’t do anything right. You could pick oranges from an apple tree, I swear!

Maybe she was right after all.