Unreasonably Calm

“This’ll clear things right up,” the cop had said over the phone, but Marty wasn’t so sure. His sweaty palms gripped the steering wheel tight as he drove, trying to gain some reassurance.

Maggie was humming and leaning her head against the window as the world blurred past. She’d been unreasonably calm after hearing that her ex-husband had passed away. The cops were somber when they called and delivered the news–she had been surprised, to be fair, but something was nagging at Marty.

He glanced over at his wife and then quickly back at the road. Maggie had never been one for tears, but Marty found it odd that she hadn’t cried once, not even a glisten.

“Want to get something to drink before we go in?” Marty said, transferring the sweat from his palms onto his jeans.

Maggie didn’t look over when she said, “No–let’s just get this over with.”

Marty swallowed hard and nodded. The sooner they met with the detective, the better. It was just a formality, the officer on the phone had said, just a formality

Yes, they’d clear Maggie of any wrongdoing and close the case.

The news said it was a home invasion, robbery gone wrong. Marty sighed, it was a shame that Dan had to go that way. What a shame.

Marty wasn’t sure where his wife had been on Friday night. He’d been driving back from a work trip and the traffic was terrible. Several calls to his wife had gone unanswered.

He wondered what the cop would think. The divorce hadn’t been amicable and things were just now starting to calm down.

“What are you going to tell the detectives?” he asked.

Maggie finally sat up a little straighter, adjusting her seatbelt and sighed.

“The truth, obviously–I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she said, staring down at her hands.

“So, you just stayed at home Friday, right?”

Mags huffed and Marty’s throat was getting tight.

“I just mean–it’d be great if you had an alibi, they’re gonna ask you where you were.”

“Marty,” Maggie said quietly, shaking her head, “You watch waaay too many true crime podcasts.”

It was Marty’s turn to huff out a heavy sigh. But then he gave her a small smirk. It was true, he watched an inordinate amount of true crime–after Friday though, after the phone call from the detective, he thought maybe it was time to stop.

Motive was key in any investigation–he wondered how far the cops would dig. Would they find out Mags’ secret?

Maggie watched him, but her stare was unflinching, cold. He tried to relax his shoulders.

“How much farther?” she asked quietly.

“About thirty more minutes–the traffic’s terrible.”

Marty watched as his wife leaned back over to the window and began humming once more. He thought about turning the radio on, but her voice was soothing in a way, easing some of his anxiety.

His wife would never have the guts to–Marty stopped himself.

He turned on the radio after all, A.C. blasting as they drove in silence for another hour. Maggie dozed off, exhausted from a lack of sleep. As they drove and Marty tried to focus as he speculated what the detective would ask.

Alibi.

Motive.

Timeline.

It was all on the table. His wife would need to have an answer for all of it, she hadn’t shared any of it with him…but then again, he hadn’t asked. Too scared of where the conversation might lead.

They hit a bump on the road and Maggie woke up from her nap and stretched. She turned off the air as she glanced at the clock.

“Mart, the detective said to meet him at the police station, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he said he’d be waiting in the lobby.”

Maggie looked around, confused. They were well out of the city now. Flat fields of tall grass were lining either side of the highway, not a car in sight.

“Where are we?” she asked, her voice sounding strained.

Marty wiped his palm on his jeans again.

“Mags, do you think I’m stupid?” Marty asked.

“No, I think you’re lost.” She tried to force out a laugh, placing her hands in her jacket pockets.

An unbearable silence filled the car, stifling, making it hard to breathe. Still, Marty needed to press on.

“How long has it been going on?” he asked. Marty already knew, but he hoped she’d stop pretending.

“What?”

“You’ve been meeting with him…with Dan–how long?” He gripped the steering wheel even tighter, wondering if he could get her to confess.

“Marty, I don’t know what you think–”

“Stop, Mags, stop. I read your text messages. I already know you wanted to get back together with him.” He couldn’t remove the anger from his words this time.

“I didn’t kill him!” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We were just catching up Marty!”

It was his turn to force a laugh. Just talking. He stepped on the gas pedal.

“Turn around,” Maggie said, left hand still in her coat pocket, right hand firmly on the passenger side door.

He ignored her, the scenery out the windows now just a muddied blur.

"Go back to the station, Marty!"

“I just don’t get it–what did he have that I don’t?”

“It’s not like that.”

“That’s not what he told me on Friday.”

Five seconds passed before he heard his wife take a breath. Marty had decided hours ago that they wouldn’t be going to the detective. He wanted a nice quiet place to talk, just to talk.

“What?” It was barely more than a whisper, but Marty heard it all the same. He was defeated, but resolved now.

“Dan. That’s not what he told me when I went to his house on Friday,” Marty said coolly.

All the color had drained from her normally rosy cheeks and he shrugged.

“Mart, what did you do?”

Marty smiled. It felt good to be done pretending, the weight of what he had done was heavier than he expected.

He’d been sloppy, sure that the police would have figured it out by now–he was honestly surprised they asked them to come into the station at all, surprised nobody had raided their home.

No way would he'd voluntarily go into an interview room. He’d watched plenty of YouTube police interrogation videos to know they never went well.

“I did it for us, Mags,” he said earnestly.

Maggie was fumbling with something, trembling.

Marty realized too late what she was doing. With a jerky motion he grabbed Maggie’s left hand and yanked it out of her pocket.

The bright, glowing call screen was lit, 911 in big bold letters stamped there with alarming clarity. They’d heard everything.

Marty grabbed the phone from her hands, chucking it out the window. Short, ragged breaths filling his chest.

He kept his eyes fixed on the empty road ahead.

At least she knew now–Marty had done it. No more pretending.

“Marty…” Maggie couldn’t believe it, not when she got the news of Dan’s death, not when the detective met her at work, not even when she found the small bloodstain on Marty’s shirt.

The police asked her if she could get Marty talking, to find out a motive. But she had been certain, there was just no way he could be guilty.

Marty was strangling the steering wheel.

In the distance, sirens wailed.