Good Housekeeping

Detective Sturgen made his way carefully through the cluttered room, stepping gently over the body on the floor as he made his way to the small, neatly dressed woman reading Housekeeper Weekly as she sat nonchalantly on the couch, her legs crossed casually, one over the other, as if she were patiently passing time in someone’s waiting room.

“Excuse me Ma’am,” he began hesitantly, for some reason not sure how to broach the subject, finally electing to be direct, “Is it correct to say that you are the one responsible for the nail file that is currently sticking out of your husband’s left eye?”

“Why yes I am young man. Why don’t you come and sit over here next to me? Make yourself at home,” she said, tossing an old sock off of the sofa cushion.

“Can you tell me what happened here this morning?”

“All I can say is Thank God that awful man is out of my life.” She brushed a small wrinkle out of her sleeve.

Sturgen wasn’t certain but it appeared that she had dressed up in anticipation of the arrival of guests; in this case, a scrum of New York’s finest. Everything about her was as neat as could be.

“He was the biggest slob you could possibly imagine. Look at this place! I work for hours every day trying to keep it nice and tidy and then he comes home and poof! Instant slum! This morning, when he spilt his cup of coffee on the carpet … well I simply had had enough.”

“Hence the eye thing?” Sturgen asked.

“Yes, hence the eye thing,” she responded.

“You know you’re going to have to come with us don’t you?”

“I imagine so. Could you just give me a few minutes to tidy the place up?”

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