The proprietor apparently slipped into bed with the corpse thinking that it was his wife (whom he’d been at odds with and had recently made a habit of sleeping in the guest bedroom) beneath the covers. The man, Christopher Kohler, thought that his wife had thawed from her disagreeable state and he slept with the corpse at his side until morning at which time he decided to attempt to rekindle their love. It was then that he discovered the body.

I laughed out loud at the poor sod I had mistakenly set up for the crudest of unintended practical jokes. I pictured in my mind his surprised expression. I felt awful and tickled at the same time. Keep in mind I’d been there twice before myself and I must tell you that waking up with a corpse in your bed is about the freakiest thing in the world. I wondered how long it would take for poor mister Kohler to recover from that shock. I supposed that there were two mattresses that would never again be slept upon. If I had gone to the correct house I would probably have been caught.

So tickled was I that when I arrived home to a somber Melanie, who had by then heard the news of Amber’s death and supposed, as did the police, that Amber had been killed by the wife of the cheating Mr. Kohler, that I couldn’t help but to smile and occasionally chuckle to myself despite my most concerted efforts at feigning an acceptable level of grief over Amber’s death. Melanie, regardless of her jealousy and anger, had had a long and close relationship with Amber and I could tell that she was a bit shaken by her death. And I knew that the timing would be awkward but I suggested it anyway,

“Melanie honey, how would you feel about all of us moving back into your house?”

“Why not?” she said, “We’re practically living together anyway.” My suggestion seemed to lift her spirits as she forced a smile.

“How would you feel if we started tonight? I really don’t want to sleep with you on the same mattress where Amber and I slept. There’s something just wrong about that now that all of that is behind us.”

She smiled at my chivalrous notion. “If that’s what you want it’s fine with me but we might as well eat here. Dinners ready and the table is set.”

After dinner Sarah and I packed enough things to last us a few days and over the course of the next few days I went about slowly moving what few possessions we had accumulated to Melanie’s house. I borrowed Tony’s van on the pretense of moving my furnishings and I instead disposed of the bloodied mattress and box-spring in a vacant lot several miles closer to town by saturating them with gasoline and setting them afire. I tossed the bag with Amber’s clothes and her bag of sex-toys onto the pyre and I left before any notice was taken of the blaze.

I rose early each morning and spent my time cleaning the apartment with the strongest cleaners I could find using rubber gloves and paper towels. By the time I was finished the house and its furnishing had neither a trace of a fingerprint nor a spec of Amber’s blood. I removed all evidence that we or any other living creature had ever trespassed there.

The detectives interviewed Melanie down at the police station. She, of course, denied having seen Amber during the past several months but she did admit to talking to her as would have been found out by the telephone calls. The detective had mistakenly honed in on Amber’s poor husband, Charlie, much as they had done to me when Catherine died. But of course they could find no evidence of where she had been killed. I was actually proud of what an excellent job I had done, however accidentally, at disguising my trail. And good fortune also played a role as it rained heavily the night that I had dropped Amber’s body off and there were no identifiable footprints left by the culprit.

14

Risky as it was, Melanie and I decided to attend Amber’s funeral mass. Sarah stayed home. It was painful and sad to see Amber’s children grieving. She had a boy, Steven, about Sarah’s age and I could tell as he walked behind the casket holding his father’s hand that he was doing his best to be courageous in his little black suit and tie and his neatly combed brown hair but the tears that trickled from the corners of his eyes unmasked his efforts. Susie, Amber’s daughter, was only four and her cheeks were red and smudged and inflamed from her ceaseless effort to wipe away her tears as she buried her head in her father’s chest while she sat upon his free arm. Susie looked adorable and pitiful at once in her body-length black adult style dress with a little white bow below the collar. Her blonde hair was pulled up and tied with a black ribbon.

But it was Amber’s husband Charlie who extracted the most sympathy from me; perhaps because I could empathize so closely with his plight. I felt guilty for having placed him in the position of defending himself from a crime that I knew that he did not commit and I empathized with him for the loss of his wife and the realization that he would have to raise his children without her help. I had been diligently keeping up with the evolution of the case both on television and through the newspaper and the morning periodical had made mention of the leads which pointed to Charlie as Amber’s killer but he had not yet been indicted.

I was once a proponent of the death penalty but for obvious reasons I had changed my position over the course of the past year.

We stood between the vast pews of people, a warbling mass of dark bonnets and bobbing heads, as the priest, dressed in his solemn robe of white, praised Amber’s devotion to her children and her fidelity to Charlie. I smiled at the mention of the word fidelity in the same sentence as Amber’s name but I quickly donned a deliberately sullen expression when Melanie squeezed my hand and I looked down at her and saw that she was tearing up and sniffling. I was amazed at how Melanie had rationalized her perspective on her relationship with Amber after all of the grief that Amber had caused her over the previous months but I suppose that funerals tend to evoke the fonder memories and thus it enabled Melanie to forgive Amber’s transgressions.

At home with Melanie later that night as we lay in bed side-by-side staring at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan above us, our bodies barely touching, Melanie asked me a startling question.

“Did you kill Amber?”

I heard my throat emit a dry wheezing croak. “No.” I said emphatically (though my voice cracked when I spoke) as I turned and explored her eyes, “How could you ask such a thing?”

Guilt filled her eyes as they welled up like ponds, “I just needed to hear you say it.”

She sniffled.

“Where did that come from?” I lifted up and rested my weight on my elbow.

She drew a deep breath, “I’m sorry for asking.” She turned toward me and leaned her forehead into my chest.

“Okay, but what put that thought into your head?”

“Well,” She drew a long broken breath, “I read that the police said that Amber wasn’t killed in her neighbor’s bed,” She sighed again, and looked up at me “and they said that the semen they found in her didn’t match his or her husbands DNA, and your wife was murdered…and I just thought….”

“I know, but I told you I didn’t sleep with Amber that night.” I tried to hold her gaze so that she would believe my lie.

“But you went out the next night and the newspaper said that her car got dropped off that night…and I don’t know…I just needed to hear you say that you didn’t do it.” She started to sob.

I held her chin in my hand and I stared into her eyes so that she would know that I was being truthful. “I didn’t kill Amber.”

Melanie hugged me, and afterwards we just laid in bed, her head resting on my shoulder and my arm wrapped around her body, listening to each other breath as our thoughts wandered, her I supposed to her memories of happier times with Amber and mine to that eventful night and all that took place. I wondered if I had left any clues behind that could lead them to me. The papers made mentioned that Amber may have had an affair but the authorities couldn’t determine who her lover might have been. Given the history of my relationship and my unknown whereabouts I figured that my name had to at least have been mentioned.