"Every year it was the same," she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "first it was the vacuum cleaner, then the girdle, then the scales...he was just clueless. So I told him, Richard I would like something nice for Christmas - like jewelry or perfume. I figured he'd do okay, you know some guys just have to be told what to do, and then..." She took a long drag on the cigarette and stared off into the low cloud bank of smoke that'd began to collect around the single lamp overhead.
"And then?" The lead detective prompted.
"At first I thought he'd finally got it, what with the pretty packages under the tree, but he hadn't you see. First was wash rags, then dish towels, then bath towels...I just...I just snapped...I don't really remember anything else."
The lead detective drew a deep breath and sat back in his chair, assessing the woman sitting in front of him."
"Do you...do you think I'll get the chair?" She asked, her voice trembling.
"No ma'am, no jury would convict you for killing a man who gave you wash rags for Christmas..."
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