She brought the cigarette to her mouth, inhaled and exhaled a puff of smoke. She ordered a cold beer 30 minutes before and yet, she hadn’t taken a single sip. Her husband didn’t know she was here but then again, he didn’t know a lot of things about her like the fact she didn’t like secrets. The bartender approached, wiping the table with a rag that had seen better days. “Bad day, huh?”
“You have no idea.” She sighed. Why else would she or anyone come to a bar in the middle of the day? “Tell me, Bernice, has your husband hidden something from you before?”
“Like what? Having an affair?”
“No, like money.”
The bartender laughed, “If my husband has gotten his lazy ass off the couch and gone out to find a decent job, I wouldn’t be here. So if anyone’s hiding money, it’d be me. Why?”
“Someone delivered me a telegram this morning. It’s a confirmation, verifying a 5000-dollar transfer from our bank account. What do you reckon it is?”
The bartender shook her head, “Nothing good, I tell ya, nothing good.”
15 minutes later, after she finished her cigarette and beer, she strolled down the boulevard to the bank, the telegram in her change purse. She showed the telegram to the teller. “Tell me, sir, to whose account did the money go to?”
The teller looked from her to the telegram and then back to her again. “I-I’m sorry, miss, there is no way to find out. Not unless the account number is present on the telegram.”
“Oh, come on, sir. Can’t you make a teeny tiny exception?” She begged.
The teller looked torn. “Excuse me for a second. I will get the manager, Mrs.”
“Robert Benton, Mrs. Robert Benton.” She said. He took the telegram, hopped off his stool, and left his post.
He returned a few minutes later with an older man. “What’s the problem, miss?”
She smiled, trying to hide her irritation. “I’m trying to find out just to whose account did my husband transferred 5000-dollars into.”
The older man shook his head. “I am sorry, miss but there is no way to know from this telegram.” She sighed, thanked the man, retrieved the telegram, and returned home.
“Robert? Are you there?” She said as she walked into the door. She narrowed her eyes, feeling suspicious. The house was oddly quiet and why would he be home in the middle of the day?
She made her way up to the grand staircase to her husband’s office. He wasn’t there but she also noticed something, his bookcase was moved aside, he was in his secret room.
She grabbed the letter-opener on desk, slipped out of her heels, and tipped-toed to her husband’s secret room. “I knew it,” she muttered and threw the letter-opener. It pierced his mistress’s back, right through her heart.
Her husband, wide-eyed, and stammered, “W-what have you done?”