I searched for his Facebook and Twitter accounts and found none. What I did find was a Wattpad account. He had written a story religiously every weekend. Except, on one weekend, there was a gap - the weekend Alicia Simmonds had disappeared.

My partner and I brought him into the precinct for questioning. We thought he would explain where he was and what happened during the weekend of May 14th.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was with my wife. It was our anniversary."

"Don't give us that old tune," I said. "You were the last person to see her. We have sworn testimony from a witness stating..., and I quote, 'I saw a woman get into his car on Friday morning at 9:42. They immediately drove away.'"

"Yeah, well, what does she know? That doesn't prove anything."

"How did you know it was a woman who saw you?... You're under arrest."

"For what?"

"Suspicion of murder."

"Who said anything about murder? I thought you said she was missing."

"You thought wrong. We found her body in the drink on the other side of town. She had ligature marks on her neck. But the perp tried to make it look like an accidental drowning. Another witness ID'd your car near the lake. Our forensics lab is matching the tire marks as we speak."

Just then, a lab assistant entered the room to tell me some discouraging news. "The tires don't match the tracks we found at the lake, not even close."

A desk sergeant followed close behind with another letdown. "The eye-witness... she can't make a positive ID on the victim. Her statement is next to worthless to us now."

"I guess that means I'm free to go, gentlemen," said the weaselly little man as he stood up from the chair, brushing away the hands of the officer who had restrained him.

"I guess so," I said. "But something's still not right."

"Well, when you figure it out, be sure to send me a telegram," retorted the suspect as he smoothed the wrinkles from his jacket.

I scratched my head. "That worm is hiding something. And he knows it."

Another policeman burst into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we just found another body. She was on the opposite side of the lake from the first victim."

"Has she been identified?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Irene Ditmar."

"The slime-ball who was just here - he's her husband!"

"I guess he wasn't lying to us then."

"How so?"

"Mr. Ditmar said he was with his wife on the day in question. After all, it was their anniversary."

"And to think how guilty I felt when I forgot our anniversary last year. Now I don't feel so bad compared to a creep like that."

"Maybe so, sir, but..."

"But what?"

"Well, I was just going to say..."

"Yes?"

"Well, at least he remembered it was their anniversary."

"Yeah, well. He's going to have a lot of time to remember now."

Story and Cover Illustration Copyright © 2021 by Michael DeFrancesco