Joey stared at the floor in increasing discomfort. His hands, bloodied and sore rested under his chin.
The body didn't move.
He hadn't really meant for this to happen. It was her own damned fault really. She was the one who was cheating on him.
If only she had kept her loyalty where it belonged. Maybe his fists wouldn't have struck at her, maybe she wouldn't be lying before him, a stunned look on her face, still reaching out with her right hand to stop the blows.
But how to get rid of her?
That was the ultimate question.
Dump her in a park? He would be found so easily. His fingerprints were all over her.
What about gloves? Gloves can hide those prints.
But all those TV shows. You know, the ones where they find some ridiculous little clue that inevitably points to the guilty party. With his luck a bead of sweat would do him in.
What did those TV shows say?
Well they always identified the body. And with identification comes investigation. With investigation they always finger the husband. Especially when he has a track record of abuse.
No, it had to be a matter of making her disappear. Or turning the attention on someone else.
So who would make a better suspect?
What about John Deerhorn, her suspected lover, the cause of all of this. If he could have motive... But no... He was squeaky clean, a damned LAWYER of all things. Not likely.
Her job. She was a part-time waitress, perhaps some customer didn't like her attitude and what? Decided to simply kill her?
What if she simply 'disappeared'? The idea had merit. As long as she can't be found they can't really charge him can they?
So what's next?
Take her outside to somewhere where she'd never be found?
Too many chances of being seen.
Hide her... here? In this little house?
Joey scowled. The idea of having what could now be considered his former wife locked up somewhere in the house he spent most of his time in...
But it was the safest way. No chance of being seen, so no chance of having this come back to him.
Joey rose from his chair, feeling the ache in his legs from his hours of thought.
With a manner of purpose he walked down the hall to the door leading to the cellar.
It was the only way. The cellar was old, built on dirt, not concrete. A few hours of digging and instant grave.
Two hours later he emerged from the cellar, intent on his mission. His wife would find a nice anonymous burial in the rocky soil beneath the house.
Damn, thought the lumbering man as he lifted his wife. Dead weight was no imaginary thing. She was HEAVY.
"Stupid ** could have eaten less" he grumbled to no one in particular. His voice echoed through the empty house louder then expected and he quickly shut his mouth, fearing someone had heard.
The stairs proved more difficult then expected. With the weight of her body on his shoulders he could hardly make the steep descent. Stumbling on the third step, he lost his grip and watched helplessly as his wife tumbled down the rest of the way.
Scowling further, he chased her to the bottom. She was more of a pain dead than alive.
Fresh welts covered her exposed skin and old, dead blood peeked out of the new scrapes, as if to suggest she were still alive.
Undeterred, Joey grabbed her and dragged her to the new hole in the cellar floor. Brief thanks to god rang through his head that the hole was deep enough to fit her rather 'blossomed' frame.
Unable to bring himself to feel any sympathy, he quickly covered the body with soil until only a suggestion of a mound remained.
Resigned to continuing the anger that had killed her in the first place he hissed "Good riddance".
Two days later the police easily found the mound and arrested the burly man on suspicion of murder.
Rumor has it that among the officers at the precinct, word was that only an incredibly stupid man would hide his wife's body in a shallow grave in his own home.