Karma's a Bitch: A Short Story

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Karma's a Bitch: A Short Story Page 3

by Michael Goffinet


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  Bob was in his bed making love to his pretty young girlfriend, Julie, when he heard the doorbell. Julie opened her eyes and gave him a strange look. She said, "Dad, the doorbell is ringing."

  His eyebrows arched in surprise. “What did you just say?"

  "Dad, the doorbell is ringing."

  Bob jumped off her in fury. “Why did you just call me dad?”

  She just stared at him with a crazed look on her face. "Dad, the doorbell is ringing," she said rocking her head back and forth laughing sinisterly. His eyes bolted open. His heart was racing a mile a minute.

  "Dad, the doorbell is ringing," his son Jonathan was yelling from the other room.

  "Oh, okay, Jonathan, I'll get it." Wow, what a weird dream, he thought. He walked to the door and looked through the peephole. Police. He opened the door. "What can I do for you officers?"

  "Are you Mr. Sheppard?" one of the officers asked.

  "Yes, sir, what's the matter?"

  "Um..., can we come in a minute?"

  "Yes, of course." The officers entered the house. "You're starting to worry me," Bob said with a concerned tone.

  "Dad, is everything all right?" Jonathan sleepily asked from the other room.

  "Yes, son, please stay in your room." He looked at the officers. "So, what can I do for you officers?"

  "Well, we have some bad news about your wife."

  Bob’s brow lifted. "My wife, what about her? Should I go get her?"

  The officers looked at each other with surprise and then back at Bob. "Your wife is here, Mr. Sheppard?"

  "Well, of course she is. Hold on, I'll go get her." The officers stood confused while Bob walked back into his bedroom. He came back a minute later startled. "Oh my god, she's not there!"

  "You mean, you didn't notice that your wife wasn't here?"

  Bob looked down at the floor embarrassed. "Well, um, the doorbell woke me from a deep sleep. I got up so groggy that I didn't even notice she wasn't in the bed. Has something happened to her?"

  "Um, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you Mr. Sheppard, but your wife was found deceased earlier this morning.”

  He felt a lump in his throat and his eyes got misty. "Dead! What do you mean dead? How is that possible?"

  "I know this is hard on you Mr. Sheppard. Your wife was found deceased in her car, in the parking lot of the Paris Club."

  "Paris Club!" Bob exclaimed, as his eyebrows lifted quizzically. He sat on the sofa and buried his head in his hands. He looked back up with tears in his eyes. "What was she doing at the Paris Club?"

  "We don't know sir. We were hoping you could tell us."

  "Um, I'm sorry, I don't know. This is all so confusing. How did she, um, you know, um, die?"

  "At this point, we don't know."

  "You don't know, how can you not know?"

  "There were no signs of a struggle. She could have just died from natural causes. We are going to perform an autopsy, but we need you to come down to the morgue and identify the body."

  "Of course, let me go put some clothes on and tell my son. Can you give me a couple of minutes?" Bob entered Jonathan's room and told him what happened. The police officers could hear Jonathan's sobbing from the living room. They felt so bad for the kid. Then they heard something unexpected. Jonathan started yelling at his father. "It's all your fault. You killed her. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." The police officers were stunned. They both looked at each other in confusion. Bob came out a couple minutes later dressed and ready to go.

  One of the officers cleared his throat. "Is everything alright Mr. Sheppard?"

  "Yeah, Jonathan's just really upset. He blames me for my wife's death."

  "Why is that?"

  "Well, truth be told, my wife and I got in a fight last night and he probably thinks the fight caused her to leave the house."

  "Unfortunately, I have given this kind of bad news to many families. The first thing people do is blame someone or something for their loss. Just give him some time and he'll see it wasn't your fault." Bob nodded and they left for the morgue.

 

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