Decadent Noir

"You can't fool me with your mirrors.

I know what I see when I see me in 

your eyes. Your husband was right,

and that's why you killed him. That's

right, I know. Because you read like 

a condensed version of Life in

Reader's Digest. You might as well

have a shot of my bourbon and one

of my morphine, if you really need

relaxing. Then, you can tell the whole

story into my tape recorder, nice and

slick, like the hose you're wearing."

"I might as well. There's enough of his

blood on me to open a bank. Nothing

they could do to me could be worse 

than living with him. I thought i could

get you to do it for me. I guess I was 

wrong."

"You were wrong alright, and two of 

those make a....hey, wait a minute!

Don't start with your mystique on me!

Don't make that mistake!"

"Well, OK..."  And she told me the 

whole story leading up to and including

the murder of her husband. I think it was

the morphine that loosened her lips. 

I didn't call the cops for two weeks. By

that time, we were both ready to go to 

jail, Switzerland.....where ever.