He never really knew it was her and didn't even have time to scream or shout. It had been over in seconds. Now she had to play the part of the grieving widow, not so much for the police as the case was closed but for the insurance company. They would have to pay up soon. Her lawyer told her than she should her that six-zero check by the end of the week.
The check was in her hand. Everything had gone according to plan. She almost felt sorry for Harry. He had truly believed that she loved him. That was rather nave on his part as nobody in their right mind could ever believe that someone like her could fall for someone like him. She's played the part right, though, and convinced him just as she convinced everybody else.
Harry had been her second check. Different names and different cities. She was now keeping her eyes open for the third check. A bookish, geeky, awkward man. That was her speciality. They fell for her, of course, just like a tonne of bricks. They invariably proposed and she accepted. Six months into the marriage she would suggest that they take out insurance policies on each other. They'd agree, never suspecting. that by signing the insurance policies, they were really signing their death certificates.
She'd just deposited her insurance check. ...
She jumped, suddenly a bit scared. She poured herself another glass of champagne and drank it, calming herself down.
The apartment suddenly felt quite chilly. Expected, really, at this time of the year. A window must be open somewhere. She got up and round the apartment checking the windows. Strangely, all were closed. There was now an unmistakable breeze coming from somewhere. Where The windows were all closed shut. They were double-glazed and no wind should pass through. What was going on Maybe she'd missed one. Although she was sure she hadn't, she got up to check once again. No. All were closed. But, the breeze was becoming stronger and stronger. It was making a whooshing sound, just as wind blow through trees would.
Was she loosing her mind She must be. She just thought she'd heard a voice in the wind. Not just any voice but Harry's voice. She couldn't back out the words but she was sure that the voice had been saying something.
The voice in the wind was getting louder and the words were becoming clearer. No. It just wasn't possible. Harry was dead. The dead don't haunt the living and they certainly don't come back from beyond the grave. That sort of thing only happened in cheap Hollywood horror movies. It was all in her imagination.
She sat back. Closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. The police investigation, the suspicions which had surrounded her, the spoken and unspoken accusations they must have all rattled her nerves. She was feeling and hearing things that just weren't there. Harry was dead. She'd shoved him off the cliff herself. Harry was buried six feet under. She'd seen the coffin being lowered into the ground and had stood