A Sordid Little Murder

It was a sordid little murder. As soon as he whacked her with the brass cat ornament he knew she was dead.

She reacted after seeing texts from his lover; he reached for the mantelpiece.

Afterwards he drove to see the mistress, dumping evidence in black bags as he went.

He needed time to think.

When he got back he phoned the police.

‘My wife’s at the bottom of the stairs. Help me.’

The police expeditiously arrested him. They could see that this was no burglary gone wrong.

It was blood spatter under his watch strap that did for him.