“Another scotch Al” I slurred.
Ice cubes clinked as he slid a glass down the bar.
“Y’know Al, the bitch is killing me. I can’t put up with her crap any more.”
“I hear ya” Al replied. He gets me, I thought. He feels my pain.
“I’m gonna have to deal with her” I added.
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do” Al offered. “Here, this’ll help” he said reaching under the bar and pulling out a revolver.
I looked up at him questioningly. He nodded reassuringly. “You know what to do”.
The police never found the murder weapon. I took them back to the bar where I got it but it was a derelict building, all boarded up; had been for decades.
I’m sat in the prison library browsing old newspapers and a headline catches my eye.
LOCAL BARMAN ALFRED WILKES SHOOTS WIFE & BURNS DOWN BAR.