ELEPHANTS IN THE ROOM
by
Charles West
“Theresa?” Donna called out.
“The
door’s open. We’re in the kitchen.”
Donna
walked into the kitchen and stopped suddenly. The first thing she noticed was
Edward, Theresa’s husband, lying dead on the marble floor in a pool of blood
that almost matched the University of Alabama sweatshirt that he was wearing.
There was a pistol next to his body.
“Are
you all right?” Donna asked nervously.
“Of
course, why wouldn’t I be?” Donna said, seemingly oblivious to her husband’s
dead body less than six feet from where she sat at the kitchen table, a bottle
of bourbon in front of her.
“What?”
Donna stammered, her eyes fixed on Edward and all the blood. “When you called .
. .”
“Where
are my manners? Would you like a drink? I know it’s a bit early in the day, but
I just needed one. You know what I mean?”
“No,
I don’t want a drink,” Donna answered, still looking at dead Edward.
“I
could make some coffee. How about some tea? You like tea, don’t you?”
“What?
Yes, I like tea, but I don’t want any right now.”
“Let
me know if you change your mind,” Theresa said, taking a sip from the bourbon
bottle.
“What
happened here?”
“What
do you mean?”
Donna
pointed at the body. “Edward.”
“Edward?
Oh, yeah. He’s dead,” Theresa said, stating the obvious.
“I
can see that,” Donna said sharply, an element of irritation in her voice. “What
happened?”
“He
killed himself.”
“What?”
“Yeah,
I came home, and he was already here, and had the gun in his hand. At first, I
thought he was going to kill me.”
“But
what. . .”
“But
he wasn’t going to kill me. He was going to kill himself. Are you sure you
don’t want anything? It’s no trouble.”
“You
have to call the police.”
“Oh,
I’ve already called them. They should be here soon.”
“Why
did he kill himself?”
“It
was because of the affair.”
“Affair?”
“Yeah,
he admitted that he was having an affair. He said he felt really bad about it,
so he killed himself.”
“Oh,
my God.”
“Before
I forget,” Theresa said, out of the blue. “Are these your gloves?” She held up
a pair of leather gloves for Donna to see.
“What?
No, they’re not mine.”
“I
don’t know where they came from,” Theresa wondered out loud. “Try them on.”
“No,
I don’t want to.”
“Please,
just to see if they fit.”
Donna
finally gave up and put on the gloves.
“They
look good,” Theresa said. “How do they fit?”
“What?
They’re fine.”
“You
can keep them,” Theresa offered. “Oh, would you be a dear and pick up the gun?
It’s starting to make me nervous.”
Donna
started to take off the gloves.
“You
might want to keep the gloves on, so you don’t get your fingerprints on it. We
don’t want the police suggesting you shot him.”
“I
can’t believe he would kill himself,” Donna said as she picked up the weapon.
“I
guess the guilt over the affair was too much for him.” Theresa paused, then
asked, “How about you? Do you feel guilty? About having an affair with my
husband?”
“I
never. . .”
“Oh,
Donna, he admitted it,” Theresa told her. “Did I leave that part out?”
“I
. . .”
“Don’t
deny it. He didn’t.”
“What
else did he say?”
“Oh,
he got very talkative at the end there. He said he was sorry. He said it meant
nothing to him. It won’t happen again. Blah, blah, blah. That’s the gist of it.
Of course he mentioned you. And the others.”
“Others?”
“You
didn’t think you were the only one, did you? Oh, you did. That is soo cute.”
“Did
he say anything else?”
“Just
stuff like don’t shoot me, don’t shoot me. I’m begging you.”
“Oh,
my God! Theresa! You shot him?”
“Of
course I shot him. He cheated on me.”
“Oh,
my God, are you out of your mind?”
“I
might be out of my mind, but I’m still alive and you two are dead,” Theresa
said calmly as she produced a small pistol from her purse.
#
“We
could do this later if you’re not up to it,” the police detective offered.
“No,”
Theresa said bravely. “Let’s take care of this now while it’s still fresh in my
mind.”
“Okay,
so you came home, then what?”
“Yes,
I came home and heard them arguing. Apparently, they were having an affair and
Edward wanted to end it.”
“Did
you know about the affair?”
“I
had no clue. I was taken completely by surprise.”
“Go
on.”
“Well,
she didn’t want it to end. Edward said, ‘It’s over,’ That’s when I heard the
gunshot. I ran in here, and Edward was on the floor, bleeding, and Donna had a
gun in her hand.”
“Then
what happened?”
“She
was surprised to see me. I guess she realized what she had done, and she raised
her gun and pointed it at me.” Theresa paused, then continued slowly.
“Honestly, I don’t remember grabbing my own gun out of my purse, but there it
was in my hand. . .” Theresa choked up, stifling a sob. She took a brave breath
and said, “I shot her.” She couldn’t stifle the sobbing any longer and began to
weep.
When
she was more receptive, the detective said, “I couldn’t help but notice you
both have the same make and model handgun.”
“Mine
was a gift from Edward. Maybe he got her the same thing,” she stammered, then
continued weeping.
When
the sobbing had subsided, the detective had another question. “I also noticed that
both of the deceased are wearing matching sweatshirts.”
Theresa
rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that. They both went to the University of Alabama. A
group of Alabama alums get together to watch the football games. I could never
understand that level of fanaticism over a game. I went to Vanderbilt, and we
were more concerned with our GPA and SAT scores than football scores.”
Theresa
paused for a moment, then veered off on a slightly different topic.
“Something I never
understood is that Alabama is called the Crimson Tide, but their mascot is an
elephant. Where does that come from?”
“I
couldn’t say,” the detective admitted. One of the police technicians handed him
a note. “Forensics say that there was gunshot residue on her gloves.”
“Gunshot
residue?”
“When a gun is
fired, the gunpowder from the bullet leaves a traceable residue on whoever
fired the weapon.”
“Then
I would have the residue as well.”
“Yes,
but when we match the bullets with the wounds, it should prove your account is
true.”
“Oh, my, was I a
suspect?”
“Everyone
is a suspect at first,” the detective explained. “But unfortunately, this seems
rather straightforward. Sadly, we see these kinds of things all too often.”
“I
never thought of that,” Theresa said. “It must be awfully depressing for you.”
“You
get sort of used to it, to a point,” he said, glancing at the two bloodstained
elephants on the two Bama sweatshirts. “Not that it matters, Ma’am,” the
detective said as he stood to go, “but Vanderbilt just beat Alabama today. It
was the first time in over twenty-five years, or something, and Alabama is
ranked number one in the country.”
Theresa
thought that if she had waited, Vandy beating Bama would have been enough to
kill both Edward and Donna. She chose not to share that thought with the
detective.
