A Nice Bit of Lamb

I think the meal went well. Conversation was a bit stilted at first, but that’s only to be expected, it being so close to the funeral. Richard has been so good to me following Martin’s death. Poor Richard! It must have been a terrible shock for him finding Martin’s body in the garage, and then having to break the news to me. The police think that Martin must have surprised a burglar, or burglars. He’d been killed by a single blow to the side of the head. They haven’t found the murder weapon, not likely to now.

Richard and Martin had been friends since school days. They’d both been best man for each other. Richard’s marriage hadn’t lasted long. I wasn’t surprised but, as usual in these circumstances, he’d been the last to find out he was being duped. I think Martin was quite interested in Louise. She certainly dressed to impress. I doubt she’d have found much to entertain her with Martin, apart from the thrill of having an affair with her husband’s best friend. Maybe they did have a fling, I’m past caring now.

Our marriage wasn’t exactly “a union made in heaven”. If it ever had been it was certainly heading in the other direction towards the end. There comes a point when you look across the dinner table and wonder if it’s the same man you married; bald, overweight, reading the paper and belching! Richard, at least has kept himself in good physical shape and his manners this evening have left no cause for complaint. I realise that he was hardly likely to start reading the paper or belching but things look promising.

Matters got worse between me and Martin after he took early retirement. He was under my feet all the time, wanting to know what I was doing, where I was going. It’s amazing how annoying certain habits can become, the way he was constantly clearing his throat as though he was about to say something; his endless moaning about what was on the radio or the television. I felt like screaming some days! I didn’t mean him any harm though. I knew it was him coming up behind me when I was getting the leg of lamb out of the freezer in the garage. I heard him clearing his throat. It was when he asked what I was doing that something snapped and I swung round with the frozen meat in my hand. It was a big piece of meat and it caught him on the side of the head. I was amazed when he dropped at my feet. I picked the meat up and put it back in the freezer. I buried it under some peas, frozen chips and a packet of sweet corn and went back into the house.

The police were very considerate. I don’t think I was ever a suspect. It was quite interesting, seeing them in their white suits with the tape across the open door of the garage. “A crime scene”, they called it. They didn’t find anything in the garage that they thought had been used to kill him. Best not to take any chances, though and so when I decided to invite Richard for a meal to thank him for the help he’s given me at this difficult time, what better than a nice joint out of the freezer. As I used to say to Martin, there’s nothing like a nice bit of lamb.

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