Do Not Disturb

by Freida McFadden

The refrigerator has that note taped up that I wrote to myself to remember to buy more paper towels. And my husband is still lying dead on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood.

I want to make one thing clear. I killed him. I’m not going to claim it was the butler or a one-armed man. I did it. I killed my husband. All I can say in my defense is I had a good reason.

I wish it could have been different. I wish Derek had been the man he promised to be. Or better yet, I wish I had listened to Claudia and stayed the hell away from him. But it’s too late now. I have no choice but to play with the cards I’ve been dealt.

“She’s my wife. In sickness and in health, right?” He looks pointedly at the wedding band on my left hand. “You know what I’m talking about.” I suck in a breath. I can’t tell him I just stuck a knife in the man who gave me this ring. “Yes. Of course.”

I’m not dead. Did you think I was? That I’m some corpse my husband propped up in front of the second-floor window to frighten his guests? I’m not. I’m very much alive. And I’m afraid my husband is a murderer.