The house wasn't the same to Nicola anymore. How could it be after what happened?
The door had been replaced, shattered frame and all, but it took some arm twisting to get the insurance company to cut her a cheque. They had tried to wriggle away through loopholes, but her lawyer plugged them all, like the bullet holes Nicola had patched herself.
Cleaning up the blood was an altogether different matter.
Blood cleans up like anything else, the experts said, but it's never really gone. Not to Nicola. She had watched enough CSI to know Stan’s trace remains were all over the bedroom, the kitchen, the hallway. Prior to going to market, she had had three separate cleaning companies scrub the place top to bottom, and when stench of industrial carpet shampoo and floor cleaner evaporated, that metallic scent lingered still.
When her husband’s affair had come out in the open, Nicola gave Stan an ultimatum: “Her or me.” His mistress hadn’t known he was married, so she made the decision for him. She ended things, but he still picked her. The standoff had lasted throughout the night and into the next morning.
Nicola was not required by law to disclose that there had been a death in the home, but no one local wanted to touch it. Every city paper and television news program had splashed images of the provincial tactical cops in body armour and green fatigues encircling her house with assault rifles at the ready. Everyone had held their breath and watched, then cried and cheered as they helped the hostage out.
Nicola’s real estate agent signed the last document.
“It’s not the best deal, but it’s what we can get. By the way, my staff can’t smell anything either. The blood is gone, Nicola. All gone.”
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Copyright Kevin M. Coleman 2023
Photo credit: Lissete Laverde from Unsplash