I was balancing the bra in both hands, the cups nestled in my palms. I marveled how little material there actually was. The vision of her on the beach returned. Why, when she was wearing the bra and before she removed it - her cups runneth over. I relaxed, it was no time to be waxing poetic. I was staring into the unlined well that had once housed her perfect upturned breasts. Perfect. Strange, but that word broke the erotic reverie into which I was drifting. Perfect? It was all too perfect!
Some mystery writer I was! I was being set up! The bra had been planted there ... in the drawer with my underwear! It would suggest that I had possibly killed my wife with her panties and had then hidden her bra there. I paused to sort my thoughts which were rambling from one tangent to another. It didn't make sense! Why not put the bra in with my wife's underwear?
I crossed the room and stood before the woman's dresser. Funny I thought, in all the years we had been married, I had never once opened her underwear drawer. I pulled the drawer open and gazed upon the contents. It came as no surprise that there was not a single pair of panties among the carefully arranged bras, stockings and negligees that filled the drawer. I picked up one article and holding it arm's length let it fall unfolded. It was a fishnet body stocking. Angrily I rolled it into a ball, thrust it and the blue bra atop the other underwear and slammed the drawer shut.
I cursed Eve and all of her previous paramours. How many of those men had gazed upon her body clad in that revealing fishnet garment? How many of them had hungrily, greedily peeled it from her wanton supine body? How many of them had had their way with her? In a cruel sense of irony, I inexplicably envied them.
While I was waiting for them to arrive I was struck with a dubious thought. What if the bra had not been planted to incriminate me, but for some other reason? What if I and I alone was meant to find it in my drawer? What if I was being led deliberately to my wife's underwear drawer? Was I supposed to have found something in there? If so, what had I missed?
I pulled the drawer open. Everything was neat and orderly except for the bra and the fishnet piece I had only moments before thrown there. I carefully folded them as best I could. Like most men I was not exactly adept at folding clothing. Placing the articles on top of their respective like garments, my eyes scanned the drawer's contents. Was I wasting my time? Where was it? I began lifting each of the underthings to see if something was hidden between them.
I drew in my breath, there was something there tucked in between the lacy negligees. It was an envelope! I pulled it out carefully so that the neat piles were not left in disarray. Across the front of the envelope written in a not so unfamiliar handwriting was the single word "Eve."
So tense was I that the rapping at the door startled me and I dropped the envelope onto the floor. I bent over and swooped it up. I wasn't paying attention to where my head was in relation to the open drawer and nearly knocked myself for a loop on its sharp edge. One hand clasping the envelope and the other rubbing my head I saw that damned blue bra had been ejected from the drawer and had come to rest next to my foot.
Once again there was rapping at the door. "Coming! I'll be right there!" I shouted. With my foot I nudged the bra under a raised arch in the dresser's decorative wood trim. As an afterthought, I closed the drawer and pushed the envelope into the same recess as the bra. Satisfied they were not visible, I moved to the door.
"No problem, Mr. Earle," said 'Ollie' as he walked by me followed by his lanky partner. He produced a worn notebook from his back pocket and stood before me as the other one seemed to be inspecting the room. I drew in a breath of relief that I had remembered to turn off the laptop which was on the desk in front of where 'Stan' had paused.
"I believe we are very close to completing our investigation. First however, I do want inform you of the lab reports from forensics," he said glancing at the notebook in his hand. "It has been confirmed that your wife did indeed have sexual intercourse with two men before her death." He studied my face for the reactions to his words. I stared back, emotionless.
He continued, "We have the two men down at the station as we speak. They are set to be released shortly." He raised his hand and extended a finger as I started to protest. "While they both admit to having had sex with your wife, Mr. Earle, they have ironclad alibis as to their whereabouts at the time of her death, which by the way, the coroner has determined to have happened between ten and ten-fifteen pm last evening. He paused again as if practicing dramatic flair. "There were five witnesses who claim to have been with the men at that same time."
He finally allowed me to speak, "Then if they didn't kill my wife, who did?" I emphatically cried at the stoic officer. I could sense 'Stan' advancing behind me. I began to tremble. "You ... You think I did it, don't you?"
To be continued.... HERE.