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Perfect Murder

Perfect Murder

Thursday 2 April, 2021: Quarter To Witching Hour

Cause of death?” asked the detective. With his chest raised, he kept jotting down notes in his notepad.

“Suffocation. Possible homicide,” the forensic pathologist answered with some little doubt. She studied the corpse further and looked up.

“Possible homicide?” asked the detective.

The pathologist took two steps away from corpse. “Well, it’s speculation for now. I reckon it’s your job to figure that out, right?”

“I guess you are right. Any signs of struggle?” he questioned further hoping to make his work easier. The pathologist pushed her spectacles up her nose and lowered her head closer to the lifeless body.

She undressed him and invited the detective to join her. “You tell me detective.”

The detective shook his head. Obviously disappointed.

___________________________

Same Day, Earlier: Clock-In Hour At Work

Grant walked into the reception area, dragging his feet. He could have been better, but a few drinks always treated him like his divorced wife. Apparently, he drank to forget the misery of his failed marriage. The trick never worked. At least he evaded the demons on those tipsy nights, but the hangovers…

“You son of…” Grant wanted to explode, charging at George. “Today is freaking Good Friday, but you are such a devil.”

“Hey, watch your step and tongue!” said George.

Jane, the receptionist, was flabbergasted by the sight of Grant. It was George’s fault, he called him in for work on the wrong day.

Although problematic after a few sips of whiskey, Grant carried a good head on his shoulders. On a normal day he was always sober, but the job had to be done. Grant swore on his mother’s womb that George would pay for his sins.

“Don’t worry Jane. The long drive to Paarl will sober him up,” shouted George.

” What the…” Grant burst with annoyance. “Couldn’t you book us a flight?”

It was official, holiday was cancelled. No more long weekend. So they left for the long drive from Kathu.

___________________________

April 26, 2021: Somewhere In Grant’s Lonely Home

Dear Diary

You lucky bastard. How many secrets of mine have I told you so far? Here’s another.

I’m not proud of it or anything, but it has happened already. Tell you what, I was the one who authored the final breath of a man so alive.

Come to think of it, I did the old piece of rubbish a favor though. He was in dire need of rest, so I opened heaven gates for him. Don’t tell the world please, they’ll judge me. They will call me a murderer and throw me behind the cells.

I hope this secret stays between the two of us. I don’t want to go to prison. I’ll die there. No doubt.

Should I go into detail? I wish I could open up and say everything, but it breaks my heart also. Last night I met his two girls, they seem to have lost a few pounds. Probably it’s the stress of losing a father.

Am I that evil? They cursed the devil for snatching away their father. I swear, I felt the discomfort. Knowing that I am the handsome angel of darkness. Hypocritically I consoled them and gave them a lift home. At least, it is the little I can do to right my wrong. Isn’t it?

Here I am, telling you that I killed Grant in cold blood. All he wanted was a long weekend, but he was becoming troublesome. I thought the weekend long job would be my escape from my wife.

He insisted we finish the job in a day and return home early. It’s not like he had a wife to rush to. Except for this expensive bottle of whisky that arrived last week from Germany. Just so you know, I have devoured the bottle and it gave me the courage to tell you this truth.

I am here in his house, drinking his whisky, and confessing to his walls. You both are my confidantes. Be sure to carry this secret to your grave, or wherever it is you go if you eve get to die. I locked him up in the container and allowed nature to work for me.

Just so you know, again. He was claustrophobic, so you know what it meant for him. Closed up in a container with no fresh air. Apparently, Paarl is that hot this time of the year.

Fast forward. Yesterday they closed the investigation and ruled out that suffocation was cause of death. No signs of struggle or anything. I’m a free man, but I remain guilty. Please forgive me on behalf of the world.

George…

 

 

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