The Medical Certificate

The pounding in my head is so familiar; I barely notice the effect of last night’s scotch. What isn’t familiar is the aroma of coffee. I open one eye, in case there is a body lying next to me. The bed is empty, but the bedside table shows proof of another existence; a half smoked cigarette is slowly disappearing in an ashtray. Oh Jesus, what did I get up to last night? I hate awkward morning after conversations. I drape on my clothes from yesterday, and hurry to make a quick exit. I can hear her in the kitchen, and to get out of the house, I have to pass her.

“Good morning stranger. Drink coffee, or is scotch your preferred drink of the morning?” Her full lipped smile and her husky nicotine voice remind me I still have an hour before I have to make an appearance in the office. But it’s best not to do a repeat, no need to hurt anyone.

“I’m running late as it is. Is my car out front?”

“It’s parked in the driveway, I drove us here. Your keys are near the front door. Will I see you round?”

Might as well let her down easy.

“Yeah, you’ll see me round.” I can’t remember her name.

My office is like my home. No other place is more welcoming. As I enter my floor of the building, my new personal assistant pants up to me.

“Sir, there’s a woman waiting for you in your office. She says she’s being accused of murder. I told her you wouldn’t be in till noon, but she insisted she wants you on the case. Quite a fox actually.”

“Thanks for the update George.”

I walk into my office, and the woman is sitting in front of my desk, back towards the door. As I sit down, I examine her without saying a word. I’ve been called intimidating many times, but she doesn’t even flinch. Hair in a bun, pinstriped skirt suit, and short heal black shoes....

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...d very rich. Finding out your husband will end up bedridden and in your care disgusted you. And you couldn’t leave him, what would people think of you if you left a sick husband to fend for himself? So you killed him, got all his money, and blamed the nanny.”

“I want my lawyer.”

“I’ll take it from here partner. Mrs Wedler, come with me. I’m taking you downtown for questioning on the murder of your husband.” Bob Jones drags Mrs Wedler out of my office, taking with him the medical file that I held out in my hand.

I’m left alone with the vixen.

“Shit. I worked for her for three years. How could she have killed her husband?”

“Why don’t we discuss this over a scotch? Come on, I know a perfect bar, and your already dressed for the occasion.”

As I open the door of the car for her, I add:

“I think it’s time for a proper introduction. My name is Detective Jason Eagles.”