Death by Trial and Error (A Legal Suspense Short) by R. Barri Flowers Page A

matter how many different dyes she
applied to it. Crow's feet had taken up permanent residence at the
corners of her rich green eyes. Her taut porcelain skin was now
dull and wrinkled.
    She wondered if he saw her the same way. Had
she grown too old and unattractive? Was she no longer enough for
him now that he had begun to sense his own mortality at the age of
forty-eight?
    Had he really betrayed her in the worst way
that a husband could ever betray a wife?
    He seemed to be reading her mind as he stared
at her without blinking. He remained wedged inside the doorway, as
if to come closer would only make what he had to say that much more
difficult. His lips were opened slightly as if trying to say words
that wouldn't come out. She noticed the deep furrow on his brow and
couldn't help but think that he suddenly looked every bit his age
and some.
    Finally, he stepped into the room and up to
the foot of the bed. He turned away, as if he could not stand the
sight of her, before meeting her gaze head on.
    "I said I'm involved with another woman—"
    This time there was no mistaking his meaning.
He was having a sexual relationship with someone else. He had
forsaken their marriage vows to be with someone who was probably
younger, sexier, able to bear his children, and brainless.
    Even then, painful as it was, she wanted to
make him tell her in clear English what he meant.
    And tell her who this woman was.
    She was wearing a nightgown—a blue silk gown
he had given her for their twenty-fifth anniversary this very year.
But she felt naked, as if she had just been violated, and pulled
the covers up over her chest.
    "I'm not a mind reader, Harrison," she said
as nonchalantly as possible. "What the hell are you talking about?
You mean you're involved with a woman on yet another committee for
dealing with substance abuse or illiteracy?" Aside from his
writing, Harrison had practically made a career out of taking on
various causes for making the world a better, kinder place to
live.
    Now she wondered if he had been thinking more
about his world.
    His eyes hardened and his lower lip quivered.
"For heaven's sake, Emma, don't make this any more difficult than
it already is."
    She felt the bile rise in her throat. Glaring
at him, she said, "If you expect me to make this easy for you,
you're sorely mistaken." She could feel her heart slamming against
her chest like a hammer. Did she really want to hear what he had to
say? Might this all somehow turn out to be a bad dream—someone
else's bad dream—if she refused to listen to any more of this?
    But Emma knew she must listen. She wanted
to— had to —hear all the gory details of his betrayal. It was
the only way she could possibly come to terms with it.
    And deal with him.
    * * *
    Maybe it would be better if she shot him
between the eyes.
    She had become an expert markswoman thanks to
him and his fascination with guns. She would make sure that the
last thing he ever saw with those smug, deceiving eyes was the
hatred he had created in her before she pulled the trigger.
    Then, for good measure, she would shoot him
down there between his legs where he had taken what was hers and
given it to someone else.
    Someone who had no right to him.
    Someone who hadn't been through the ordeals,
stresses, and strains he had put her through.
    Someone who hadn't bankrolled his aspirations
for years till they finally began to pay off.
    Someone who hadn't invested years in a
marriage that was supposed to be till death do them part.
    She found him in the study that morning,
having said that he would wait for her there while she got dressed.
She had not argued, having no desire to hear about his infidelity
in the bedroom of all places.
    Their bedroom .
    Had she slept with him in there?
    Had they made love in their bed?
    Over and under their sheets and blankets?
    Harrison had taken the liberty of fixing them
both a drink. Emma suspected that this was probably his third or
fourth this morning. He wasn't a heavy