By
David DeLaine Snow
A week had gone by before the Coroner finally released her husband’s body to the local Funeral Home; a single gun shot to the head confirmed what she had seen for herself -- a suicide. Jillian would never forget finding George slumped over on the blood soaked couch with brain matter splattered against the wall. Nor would she be able to erase having to clean it all up herself.
Next to a pile of bills and collection notices on the coffee table lay George’s final note; which read: “It all got out of hand and I’m so sorry, but I can’t stop.”
George’s gambling debts had drained their joint bank accounts, and now Jillian was left holding several unpaid Payday loans. She lost her land line, Cable, and her utilities were being threatened with getting shut off as well. Now, she had to wait for his Insurance policy to kick in and pay for his cremation. Their eight months of marriage had not seen them do any more than verbally plan for their future old-aged deaths. Hence the wait began.
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Jillian entered the bustle of the Police Department, and walked up to the information desk, telling the clerk, “I would like to report a murder.” Everyone turned and looked at her. “Actually, I think I may have some information about those missing people in the news.”
More forth coming...
