I Didn't kill My Husband

The most popular murders: Golaith's and Hans' death

Michaels

I and David left the sewers and headed back to the Police station. The car radio on our drive back wouldn't keep quiet about how billionaire Hans was being buried today.

I began to ponder on what exactly drew people into the business of wealthy families. I get that the Kardashians have a successful reality TV show, but what exactly made people mad over them.

"Can't believe Hans was killed in his own room," the taxi driver said, tuning down the radio. "Yeah," I whispered. I wasn't really in the mood to be bothered by an odd freakish fan now. This wasn't the first time I'd be in a taxi where the driver tries to start a conversation about Cristobal drama.

I looked outside the window and worried wether or not the killer was part of our suspects. There is a thin chance that whosoever owned that beanie, very well could have been a hired-killer.

"How's the investigation going so far, Mr. Michaels?" The man said. My eyebrows rose displaying slight shock as to how the man knew I was a detective and that was in charge of the Cristobal case.

"What investigation?" I asked him. He smiled at me as he tilted the steering to change the direction the motor was moving. "Hans' murderer, detective," he answered. "Rumor has it you're the one cracking this case," he looked back at me. "Rumors," I whispered.

Well, I guess thier people investigating about our investigation. People who wouldn't mind thier businesses. People who make money off stories like this. "Sixteen dot com, Hollywood latest magazine, The dark web. How'd you know?" I asked. "I heard from everywhere you just mentioned. Plus a few other websites," he answered.

"Great," I whispered. I had successfully become a character in Cristobal latest issue, #unknown. But I kinda liked this one. I mean, never did I think that is have anything to do with them.

Victoria

I, Kemi and Queen got ourselves well prepared and ready for the funeral. "Micheals is such a nice guy," Queen said, still shocked by Mike's generous act of cleaning the whole house for them.

We got into the car and we drove off to the burial ground.

We got there a few minutes past tardy, thanks to Kemi's time-taking make-up. People had already gathered my dead husband's casket.

Every one in sight remained quiet as the Priest spoke. He said, "Hans Kristobal was a very good man. He helped the poor and assisted the government." I heard everything the man was saying and I wondered deep down why priests lie in events like this.

Even if the person were a terrorist, Priests always started with, 'he was a good man.'

Although, I was right about Hans being a bad person to me and so many people surrounding him, I couldn't help myself but cry as I poured a handful of dirt and threw a rose flower into the dugged hole that contained his coffin. The thorns of the rose did prick me before it's free fall, releasing a few drops of blood.

"Hopefully, my misery ends here. Here at this place," I prayed silently as I watched the blood drops colour my ring finger.

Externally, I was still crying when someone came from behind and hugged me. I held the hands, assuming it was Kemi, but instead of feeling an exposed thin arm, I felt a muscly one covered in suit. It was a Man hugging me.

Within the few seconds of turning to find out who that was, I wished it was Michaels. Like, not even David, but Michaels.

Weird? I know.