Her Loss, Part Three of Three
The Evans had certainly had a rough Friday night. Christian woke up early, did not know that his blow to Cecilia had bruised her. He left at sunrise to go play a game of golf and drink whiskey with fellow golfers. As exciting as that was, Cecilia woke up as he was on his noisy mission to get to the golf course. Her head was in pain. She took some aspirin and longed to go back in time. “I could have just remained a teacher,” she thought sadly, looking over her large and multi-colored bruise via the 3,000$ mirror in her guest bathroom. “What am I to do?” asked Cecilia. She thought about it a while, got dressed, and walked the four-acre walk it took to get to her neighbor’s house. She would see a fellow Wormer; she was going to pay Muria a visit.
Cecilia wore a hat with a laced veil to keep her big bruise from view. She walked to her neighbor’s and knocked on the front door like an Avon salesman. Cecilia had only been over to see Muria a few times, before, and she was unable to figure out other options. Her bruised eye was not even functioning perfectly – Cecilia had a small twitch in her harmed eye. Muria answered the front door in her Saturday morning dance robe; she had been doing aerobics-dancing with a video for the last hour or so. “Cecilia!” exclaimed Muria; she was happy to see one of her most favorite people.
“What a nice surprise,” said Muria, “What brings you here?” Cecilia went with a “non-euphemistic” philosophy and raised the silk from her hat. “That angry drunk got me good,” said Cecilia, “What more does he want from me?” Cecilia stood in tears; she did not even know she was crying. Muria was all she had, really. “Oh honey, come inside,” said Muria. Muria consoled Cecilia holding her and rubbing her back and listening to all of the terrible things that had been happening. The two cried and talked for a while, shared a tea, and Cecilia went back home. They had made plans to see each other again later in the week.
Christian went on about his normal life, too busy to even care about his lonely housewife’s bruised head. Ten days went by, and Cecilia’s bruise healed. One night, she went to her book club. “Anything happens to Christian, and Cecilia gets paid millions,” thought Muria. Muria was not even too worried about many things; she thought Christian was not good enough for Cecilia. He would never give up his bottle according to Muria’s opinion, and she was growing older, anyway. Muria was an intelligent and deadly woman; she skipped the book club that week, as she sometimes did. Muria got out an expensive bottle of bourbon, put it in her purse, got dressed, and walked to the Evans’ to ring the front door bell.
“Who is there?” asked Christian, he was intoxicated and had been watching CNN. He opened the door to see Muria in sexy lingerie and a loosened night robe. He let her in. She gave him the bottle; he put that aside. Muria lured Christian into the kitchen; they did not speak too much. She caressed him and raised her right leg up to the counter; he came closer to her warmth. Muria reached behind him and grasped a serrated steal bread knife, pulled him closer, and slit his main aorta with a one-inch deep wound. Christian tried to grab and strangle her before he bled to death. Muria was agile enough from martial arts instruction. She was able to get his arms behind his back; he bled to death.
Muria cleaned the kitchen; she only had half of an hour and Cecilia would be back from the book club. Muria put Christian’s body in a tall, thick outdoors liner bag. She cleaned the kitchen really well, drank some of the bourbon, and made sure their was absolutely no sign of foul play. Muria got the body into the Evans’ backyard and double-checked all that she could consider before leaving the mansion. Everything was the way it would have been. Muria dragged the body to a dark part of the yard – it neighbored her own yard. She kept dragging him until she got him into a secure location, and Cecilia returned home from the book club shortly thereafter.
Muria cremated Christian’s body late in the night. Cecilia called the police; no body was found. Christian was pronounced dead, though there was no body to prove it. Muria did not get caught. Cecilia received a life insurance policy check for 5 million within good time. Cecilia opened an art museum downtown, and she opened a private school for children the next fall. Cecilia missed Christian from time to time; her counselors said that it was not a healthy notion to dwell on. Muria, her husband, and Cecilia lived happily ever after.