The Stain

The egg timer dinged on the stove. I sighed as I removed the pan from the heat and set it on the counter, there was too much to do. The house was quiet, everyone was gone and it was driving me crazy. I was used to the sounds a family makes; the kids running into and out of the house, a husband who comes in from work upset at his boss. I collapsed onto a chair and noticed a stain on the floor.

How did that get there? I was careful to make sure that everything was cleaned up and looked presentable. One never knew when company would be over and it wouldn’t do to have an untidy, messy house. Mother taught me better than that, she worked full time and still had dinner on the table before daddy got home for dinner. Too bad Mother was long in the ground, it would have been nice to have a conversation with her, anything to break up the monotony of not having the family here to talk to.

Ding Dong. It was the doorbell; it was a good thing that the house was picked up after all. Except for that damned spot. I would keep whoever it was in the living room until I could clean it up and make the kitchen presentable to be shown to the guests. I opened the door and was confronted by a very attractive police officer. “Evening, Miss Annabell.”

“Officer.” I did a curtsy but I don’t know why. The grim look on the officer’s face told me that something was amiss. I did hope that it had nothing to do with that church fire from the week before, that was a sad mess. All because the preacher’s wife did not know how to honor the vows that she took with her husband. Such a shame. “Is everything alright. Miss Beth didn’t start another fire did she?”

“No, no.” He couldn’t make eye contact with me. His eyes bounced around the living then back to the door stop. I realized how incredibly rude I was to be keeping this gentleman on the porch so I stepped out of the doorway and motioned him in. “Miss Annabell, we found your husband’s car down by the river. It was smashed to pieces and there was no sign of your husband.”

“Maybe he’s faking his death again. That was his favorite prank that he pulled and everyone got such a big chuckle out of it.” My husband was a big joker, he always liked to bring a smile to people’s faces. Sometimes those people were not related to him but he had a big heart. “That has to be it that is the only explanation that makes sense.”

“I hate to be indelicate ma’am but I would like something to drink. Can I get a glass of water?” The Officer tried to make his way into the kitchen but I could not let him see the stain, then he would think that I was a bad housekeeper and it would be next to impossible for me to find another husband. I blocked him and pushed him back into the living. “Am I imposing? I do apologize.”

“No, not an imposition at all. Please have a seat and I will bring out some iced tea and snacks. Would you like a snack? I bet you would.” The officer nodded his head in agreement. Once I was in the kitchen, the spot took my attention from everything else.

It was as if it was taunting me, telling me that this was all my fault. My husband had died thinking that I could no longer perform my wifely duties. I would show him, I would clean that damned stain with his toothbrush. It wasn’t as if he was going to need it anymore.

I walked through the living room and went into the bathroom. I wanted to act as if I needed to use it, that ways the officer wouldn’t get any funny ideas about the stain and my status as a domestic goddess would remain. As Mother always told me, “you are only as good as what people think you are.”

After I tucked the toothbrush into my apron pocket, I washed my hands. The living room was empty to my shock; the officer must have decided that I was taking too long getting the snacks or something. The heat from my anger boiled my blood; it was just plain rude to ask for a snack and then leave, I would need to have a talk with his mother. A shadow in the kitchen caught my eye, and I hurried in there.

“Why is there a blood stain on your floor?” He looked up at me and then back at the stain. He touched it gingerly, and lifted his finger. Part of it stuck to his finger and I knew what I had to do. I needed to take care of this problem like I had to take care of the others. I went to the drawer that was used for all of our odds and ends. The hand gun that my husband had insisted I get was sitting there looking as lovely as it had the first time I used it on the preacher’s wife.

Once I caught her on bed with my man, I knew that I needed to teach her a lesson. Then my husband got all high and mighty about me burning down the church to cover up a murder, so I turned on a CD and shot him. Then cut up his body parts and boiled them in my pot.

Once the cop was dead, I needed to figure out what to do. Mother told me once that men liked to sleep in their boxer shorts, so I stripped him down. Then I lugged him into the backyard, and put him on the hammock. He would rest peacefully there.