Do Not Disturb

by Freida McFadden

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.

Derek had been shopping for a new bank, but in retrospect, what he really had been shopping for was a wife.

I put back the trail mix and nutrition bars. Instead, I grab the cheese puffs and a pack of Oreos. To hell with Derek. He’s dead anyway.

He waits for a beat. “That isn’t why I pulled you over.” “Oh…” I wrack my brain, trying to think of something I might have done wrong. I mean, other than murdering a man a few hours ago.