Lt Goulding had been on homicide twenty years but even he had never seen anything like it. Blood soaked the couch and ran across the carpet towards the bathroom of the luxurious apartment. Two bodies exploded: a man and a woman; both in their twenties. She was wearing a wedding dress. There was a shotgun, two cartridges fired. It didn’t need Sherlock Holmes to figure out what happened.
The apartment block supervisor filled him in. They were David and Sarah Middleton and they had married only six days ago. The happiest couple he had ever seen. Their whole lives to live for. Who could do such a thing? Another murder, he supposed. What was the city coming to? The third that weekend. He rushed from the room and vomited copiously on the landing.
It was the forensics guy found the note. He held it between his fingertips, admiring the beautiful copperplate handwriting. They found out later she was a schoolteacher.
‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph,’ he shook his head at the absurdity of the world. This was no murder. With voice cracking, he read aloud.
‘We are the luckiest couple in the world. We do not need money; David’s family own the Midwest Bank. We have good health and everyone says we have a wonderful future before us. But we prefer to die now because we are the happiest people in the world. We adore each other, but we would rather descend into the grave together while we are still happy.’
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 