Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 50, No. 1 & 2, January/February 2005

There were two policemen — he couldn’t bring himself to call them cops. One, a thick-bodied Hispanic, leaned against the wall next to the door of the dreary interview room. The other, a skinny, peasant-featured mess of a man named McGrath, sat across the table from Edwin and spoke:

“You need anything? Coffee? Water? A sandwich?”

Edwin shuddered at the thought of a sandwich from this place. “No, thank you.”

“It’s no trouble...”

“No.”

“You don’t mind this tape recorder here? We have to tape these things, make sure I’m not slapping you around and stuff.” He smiled to show how ridiculous a prospect that was.

“Could you state your name, please?”

“Edwin Oliver David Cunningham. My father was a devotee of Dickens.”

“Are you sure he wasn’t just a Happy Days fan? Heyyyy! Cunninghammmm!” McGrath made some ridiculous gesture with his thumbs.

“I have come here to confess to murdering my wife. I think I deserve to be treated a little more seriously.”

McGrath held up his hands. “You’re right. Sorry, okay. Just trying to, you know... look, forget it, okay? But, you know, while we’re on the subject... See, the problem is, any time a body turns up or a murder is reported, we get all, kinds of ah... people... come here and confess. Hell, Jack the Ripper comes in all the time. He sends us Christmas cards even. So, you know, you waltz in here, say you want to confess, don’t even ask for a lawyer present...”

“I see no point in a lawyer. I’m not an expert in these things but even I know about DNA testing. You would discover who she was and that I had reported her missing five years ago...”

“That is true.” McGrath flicked open a cardboard file on the table in front of him. A picture of Shelley stared at the ceiling. Edwin remembered giving it to the police after he had reported her missing. They’d been on one of his field trips in Nevada. He’d been looking for rocks, and for the first couple of days, Shelley had tagged along, but she soon got bored. She spent the rest of the trip sunbathing.

“Nice looking woman...” McGrath held the picture up to show it to his companion at the door.

“Too attractive for me, you mean?”

“Hey, no...”

“Don’t worry, I know we made an unlikely pair. In fact, I counted on it. When I reported her missing I could see your colleagues looking at each other. They were thinking someone like her wouldn’t stick around with a... a nerd, I suppose is the expression. When I told them I was suspicious that she may have had a lover and that money and valuables were missing from the house, they put two and two together just like I thought they would. She had been in trouble before.”

“How’d you two meet up?”

“She helped me change a tire. I’m useless at such things. There I was, beside the freeway, struggling, macho idiots driving past and shouting insults. She pulled in, changed it for me.”

“Now that’s my kind of woman. Jesus, you ask my wife...”

“Excuse me for interrupting your no doubt fascinating domestic anecdote, but I am trying to give you some background on my murder of my wife. If you don’t mind...”

“Sorry. That’s just me. Running off at the mouth...”

“Anyway, we got to talking. I like to think I’m above most of the petty interests of the common herd but, I have to confess, lust remains a problem, especially if you have little experience of women. And from that point of view, Shelley was a dream come true. Lack of experience was certainly not her problem.”

McGrath picked up the snapshot again and looked at it. “I gotta tell you, my wife sure don’t look nothing like that.”

“Each of us wanted the opposite to what we had. She wanted security, respectability, a settled life. Her previous relationships had been with drug addicts, criminals. Though the fact that I am the only offspring of wealthy parents didn’t hurt. Me, I was enjoying discovering — shall we say — a more sensual side of my nature...”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Oh, it was. For a while. Until after we were married. She tried, I’ll give her that. Tried to learn, to expand her interests. She gave up drink, drugs. Took care of me. But she was limited. So limited. The more she tried to learn, well, the more those limitations came to the fore. At first it was irritating. Then it was enraging...”

“Hey, I can sympathize...”