Relaxer Can Be Murder

Ben sat behind the wheel of his car. Hot tears fell on his cheeks. The funeral director had been pleasant enough, but that didn’t diminish his pain or help comfort his hurting children. He’d spent more time in the funeral home than he thought he would, but he couldn’t leave until he knew for certain that Macy was being well taken care of.
He looked at his watch. He was late. But when he thought about how harsh the detective had been when he demanded the interview, Ben decided to take his time.

Chuck checked his watch for the hundredth time. He was in charge, and refused to take a backseat to Ben Watkins. “I thought I told you to be here at 12:30 sharp. You’re almost an hour late.”
Ben ignored him and sat down. “Are you any closer to finding out who did this to my wife?”
“Funny you should ask. As a matter of fact, I just might be.”
Ben sat up and leaned forward. He watched as Chuck slowly flipped back and forth through his notes.
“According to very reliable sources, you have jumped to number one on my list. Let’s see,” he searched the page. “Ahh, here it is. It appears that your wife was a party girl. A husband and two boyfriends, whew! At some point, I’m sure you just got tired of sharing. I can only imagine how warn out she was by the time she made it home to you.”
Ben felt the stream of sweat drip down his back. He looked at the detective’s holstered gun and quickly reconsidered the chin-check and subsequent shots to the gut that he deserved. Ben stood and kicked back his chair. “Next time you see me, I’ll be with my lawyer.”