A Very Simple Crime Read Online Free PDF

paid for it.”
    “Yes, I’m very aware of that.”
    “I raised our son in this house.” This was, of course, her trump card. She played it at every opportunity.
    “Well, our son doesn’t live here anymore, now does he?”
    Rachel ran her fingers through her hair. “You don’t love me, do you? You’ve never loved me, and I’ve loved you more than I love myself.” It was true; she loved me brighter than the sun burned.
    “I love you. You know I love you.” I simply said it. The same as I had said it thousands of times before. It was a statement, neither true nor untrue.
    “You blame me. Don’t you? For Albert. Look at me!”
    I couldn’t look. It was true.
    “You hate me. Wish I were dead. I can tell. I’m not crazy.”
    “I don’t think you’re crazy.”
    “Yes you do! I can see it in your eyes. Right now you’re afraid I’ll do something crazy. You’re scared of me.”
    “Rachel, I’m not scared of you. You’re my wife. I love you.”
    “No you don’t. You can’t love me. You’ve never thought of leaving me?”
    I remained silent.
    “See! See! I knew it! You want to leave!”
    “No. You asked me if I’d ever thought about it. Of course I have. All men think about it at one time or another.”
    “Well, let me tell you, you’ll never leave me. Something bad will happen.”
    She turned from me. Her shoulders were shaking. Then the stringent smell of burning flesh filled the air.
    “Rachel! Rachel, what are you doing?” I turned her to me. She held the burning end of her cigarette to the flesh of her forearm. Ground the hot embers into her skin. “See! This is how much I love you! How much do you love me?”
    Once again, I gave in. I held her in my arms, took her to our bed. Gave her her trophy.
    At that time, I considered myself, too, to be mentally ill, so I never considered censuring Rachel for her psychotic episodes. I never thought of leaving her. How could I? What chaos might ensue? Would she kill herself? Would she acquiesce, bide her time, then hunt me down and murder me? But most of all, I knew that I could never cause her that much pain. No matter how much I had grown to fear her, I could not inflict that kind of pain on her.

SIXTEEN
    I met with Violet every week. I think I must have seemed just another patient to her. She took care of me in the same way she took care of my son. We took hotel rooms. Our relationship grew. It grew only because of familiarity. Love was not involved. For her, I was a diversion, a rich man who took her to nice places and gave her what she thought were extravagant gifts. For me, she was an unknown element. A link to my son, yes, and I confess to eroticizing her relationship with my son. She was our secret. A forbidden flower in a secret garden. She was ours together.
    For our relationship to seem to Violet to be a normal one, she expected it to grow in traditional ways. She was aware of my wife and accepted the obvious limitations that imposed; in fact, she relished her role of mistress. She had seen the part played out countless times on countless television dramas. She knew what was expected of her and was aware of what she could expect in return. I admired her for this, and reciprocated by playing my role of adulterer to the hilt. In fact, this idea that we were merely actors in a grand and clandestine play appealed to me immensely. To propagate the illusion and to keep her secure in her role, I bought her gifts. As the drama unfolded, the gifts grew more extravagant. I bought her a finely tailored sable coat that hangs in the closet of her ramshackle mobile home and is worth more than five times the value of her trailer. She knew that as a mistress it was her job to make unreasonable demands of my time. It was my part to object but eventually give in. We planned a weekend excursion to the mountains. There was a cabin there that had belonged to my parents and had since passed to me and Monty. We spent several summers of our childhood there,