The Story, by Ann-Louise Truschel

“Let’s hear it!”

She began to cry, softly, her shoulders shaking, her head bowed.

“My boss brought me home from a late board meeting tonight, and when we came in, we found my husband lying dead on the living room floor, Detective.”

“How did you know he was dead?”

“I didn’t see him breathing,” she shuddered. “I called his name – again and again. But, … but.”

Gasping for breath, she collapsed onto the couch, unable to continue. Covering her tear-stained face with her hands, she wept inconsolably.

“Very convincing, Grace. The police will never suspect us in a million years.”

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