The Office Widow

"Sarah Brown, you are being charged with murder in the second degree. I will remind you that you have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say can be used as evidence against you..."

At that point, Sarah fainted.

EPILOGUE

Dave Brown bade goodnight to the two Victorian policemen before they left the room and reviewed his answers to their recent questions. Yes, he'd checked into the motel in Ballarat that afternoon, about five. He'd had an early dinner in the motel restaurant, which he was sure his waitress could verify, she was the mid-thirties redhead with glasses. Then, sorry, he'd retired to his room to prepare for a resumption of his business meeting the next day to which there were, unsurprisingly, no witnesses.

The only phone call he'd made or received was one from his wife's cell at a little after nine. Now he came to think about it, it was a little strange she'd used her cell rather than the home phone.

No, he didn't know a Paul Smith; he never socialised with his wife's work colleagues. Were they sure they couldn't tell him what this was all about?

After they left, he rang his home phone line and Sarah's cell. Both went to message bank and he left worried sounding messages for her to call him.

Pondering his next move, he rubbed his bruised bicep then absentmindedly put his hands in the pocket of his trousers. Feeling something squishy, he withdrew the contents and stared tiredly at the two latex gloves and used condom in his palm. A wry laugh at his oversight escaped him. Had the police searched him it could have blown all his carefully laid plans to smithereens. The thought brought him up short and he cursed himself for his lack of thoroughness. His children needed him to keep his eye on the ball.

Cracking the curtains, he made sure the police car was gone, then left the room, walked across the road and around to the back of the shopping centre. After glancing around, he retrieved the items from his pocket again and threw them in a dumpster where they joined the night vision goggles, disposable coveralls, and intact fuse block he'd deposited there earlier.

Returning to his room, and despite his exhaustion, he set about packing while he contemplated all the details he would need to put in place to be a successful single parent. A smile played on his lips at the thought of the difficult job he'd done and done well.

THE END

Now lighten the fuck up.

You can thank/blame XTCHR for the following.

A motorcycle mechanic was removing a cylinder head from the motor of a Harley when he spotted a well-known cardiologist in his shop.

The cardiologist was there waiting for the service manager to come and take a look at his bike when the mechanic shouted across the garage, "Hey Doc, take a look at this." The cardiologist, a bit surprised walked over to where the mechanic was working on the motorcycle.

The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a rag and said, "So Doc, look at this engine. I opened its heart, took the valves out, repaired or replaced anything damaged, and then put everything back in, and when I finished, it worked just like new. So how is it that I make $30,000 a year and you make a million when you and I are doing basically the same work?"

The cardiologist paused, leaned over, and then whispered to the mechanic, "Try doing it with the engine running."