No Body, No Crime

5 | crime

"No woman could love a cheater and not pay the price for it."

— Rose Wynters

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5 | crime

Carson left over an hour ago. It was past twilight now, and she wondered briefly if he would return for the night. Or just choose to stay with the other woman, now that Este had her suspicions and he didn't even need to be discreet. Her thoughts revolted her, and she threw up the contents of her stomach twice in the past hour. She thought of calling Dany or Alana, but she didn't quite feel like telling her tale all over again. The weight of their sympathy was enough as it is, she couldn't see them pity her. She wanted the company, but she also craved solitude. Playing a crime series she had already watched served as the perfect background noise as she sent a few emails contacting vinyl suppliers.

Este worked at Pine Ridge Record Store with Alana. It was a family business, one that the girls inherited. Danielle loved critiquing movies too much to work at the store. She spent half her time analysing them at the theatre and the other half making reports. Danielle practically lived in front of a screen. They were a tight group and Este was grateful for their existence itself. She would also have her best friends to get through the aftermath. She would have Taylor. She doesn't need Carson financially, and now, even emotionally. Divorcing was the safest option. To leave before everything blew up in their faces. She could do it.

Este was going to get a divorce.

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The flickering incandescent glow of the LED above their television stand irritated her sleep enough to wake her up. Este was sprawled on the couch, her laptop on the coffee table across her. She must have fallen asleep after working. The crime series still played on the television, now at the sixth episode. She slept for over three hours. Este raised from the couch steadily, walking to the bedroom she shared with her cheating husband. She flicked the lights on. It was exactly as she left it. Bed untouched. Carson hadn't returned after all. Suppressing a sob, she made her way to the attached bathroom.

She thought she might puke again but she only spat mucus. Her stomach growled with hunger and fatigue. When had she eaten the last time? Este looked at her reflection in the rectangular mirror above the basin. Her skin was porcelain white, like a cadaverous doll; hollow cheeks and eye bags so dark they looked like running makeup. It scared her.

If her friends thought she was screwed up three days ago, they should see her now. Este was a ghost.

Collecting cold water in her palms, she spilled it over her face, willing to wash off the pain but it remained etched into her features. After repeating the process twice more, she grew tired and left the bathroom. The moment she stepped over the threshold and into the bedroom, a firm hand snaked around her face and pressed into her mouth, restricting her from making a sound. Este's fingers clawed at the familiar hand, her legs thrashed in panic.

She could know the feel of that body anywhere, in any state. She spent countless days and nights memorizing it, worshipping it. It was Carson. He engulfed her face in his palm and brought forth a rope. He circled the rope around her neck in one swift motion and tugged hard till she stopped struggling. Este could make no sound as the breaths left her body, her lungs caught fire and air became a luxury she could no longer afford.

But she recognized the rope. It was the same one they played tug-of-war with last summer when her parents visited them; eating watermelons and basking in the sun.

It was a beautiful day.

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The house was eerily quiet, haunted by the screams of the husband and wife who lived there. From this day on, it would just be the husband; for he killed his wife in cold blood. It wasn't necessarily out of spite or hatred. Carson didn't hate Este, like she hated his mistress, Ivy. She was only proving to be a nuisance and he simply couldn't afford that now. He knew Este well enough to be certain that she wouldn't have stopped running after him. She would keep digging deeper in his life, unfolding his treachery, spilling his secrets to her galling sisters and that clique of hers; until they would both be in the ground.

Better one of them than both.

The murder wasn't pre-planned; Carson did it on instinct. He intended to come to the house and simply doze off without confronting her. It was past midnight and it was unexpected for her to be awake. He also didn't expect the rope to catch his attention. It was sitting in the front lawn next to a set of withered flower beds, appearing rather innocent. Frustration ran through his veins and he picked it up on instinct, though subconsciously, his mind knew what to do. In the living room, he found the television running, wrinkled cushions on the couch that indicated Este had been there. He heard the flow of water from the bedroom and waited for her to emerge. Without a sound warning, he had pounced on her, shutting off her mouth. The rope was sufficient to strangle her frail neck. No blood, no mess.

Now he had to get rid of the body.

He removed the ring from her finger and the blue studs from her earlobes. A neat pastel green floral bedsheet was spread on the bed. He pulled it apart in one motion, and wrapped Este's body. It wasn't enough; he required another cover. Carson rummaged through the closet till he found an additional plain bedspread. He continued wrapping her until no part of her was visible. He dragged her outside; poor thing didn't weigh much and caused no inconvenience. He switched off the television, fixed the cushions, discarded the rope. Examining everything one last time, Carson brought the body out into the night sky. He carried her with ease and settled it in the backseat of his pick-up. Leaving no trace behind, he reversed his truck from the driveway and proceeded to drive into the woods, a few miles out of town.

Pine Ridge was silently asleep this fine night as Carson drove a lone truck for thirty minutes, lazily strumming his fingers over his steering wheel. When the woods came into view, thick and looming over him, he felt an excited shiver run through his body. There was enough room between the pine trees for the truck to go in for a mile but the trees ahead were too thick, and the ground extremely muddy for more.

Carson switched off the ignition, collected his apparatus and dragged his wife's body into the woods. Picking a deep spot several feet away from the truck, he dug a wide hole, large enough for a man to fit in, using a spade, stopping a moment to admire his handiwork. He pushed the body into the pit and poured a jerry-can full of gasoline, distributing it evenly. He retraced his steps back, struck a match over a match-box, and flinged it on the body.

The darkness of the woods was overwhelmed by the garish light of the fire as it roared and reduced Este's body to ashes, while her husband watched patiently until the fire subsided, leaving nothing but a deep blackened pit. Carson covered the pit with fresh mud, successfully concealing his crime.

He collected his apparatus – the empty can and the spade, sat in his truck and drove back into the depths of his town while it slept the night off, blissfully unaware of his evil deeds.