I watched the casket of my once oh-so beloved, beautiful wife being lowered electrically into the grave. Charlene, and Shirley, our two beautiful daughters, thirteen and fifteen respectively, let out one last deafening scream. They almost jumped into the marble tiled grave after their mother.
Of all people, Charlene and Shirley had been the most affected by the cold bloody murder of their mother, my lovely wife of fifteen years. What a tragic loss.
Her father, a wealthy businessman and veteran politician, had vowed to do whatever it took to bring to the book her killer. He ought to. No one has the right to take anyone’s life.
As I tried to hold back Charlene and Shirley, I couldn’t help thinking of Mandy. In her life, she had been such a darling to the world. In death, she was like a miserable-people magnet.
But now it was over.
Only that she had taken to the grave a very big secret – the identity of her killer.
Both Mandy and I knew that her murderer will never be caught. Her murder would go down the books of unsolved murders history.
The murderer had done all it took to make sure that even the much famed American CSI can’t get him, and had allowed her to see his face before she died – she was going to die after all.
I know all this because I killed Mandy, my sweet wife.
Fifteen years of deception is a long time. Mandy had been a whore all along, an escort for the stinking rich scum of this republic, right from the first day we met and I fell for her head over heels. A Campus Diva for the Rich, that’s what she was, for fifteen years.
Even after graduation from the Nairobi University and our marriage, she continued peddling her cunt for whatever God knows. I loved her, gave her everything, yet she lied to me, and called me babe.
How could she?
Well, the truth was the bitterest pill I was forced to swallow when I discovered.
How could she? I loved her.
Fine, the truth is the darkest place of all. Nonetheless, I know the truth behind her murder.
Copyright ©Vincent de Paul, 2013.
