He killed his wife the night of Alice’s graduation dinner party. Alice brought a friend, that leggy girl who was bound to end up as some rich man’s mistress in some city far away from Maine. Edith, taking more pills than usual, had been speedy all day long. But she began to drink before dinner, and by the time that Gina and Alice were leaving to go to a party, she was her usual self, a drunken, slurry mess. After the girls left, Jake made Edith a brandy and ginger ale heavily laced with crushed Valium. She drank the first one down before he’d even cleared the dinner plates from the table, so he made her another. He didn’t know how many pills and how much alcohol it would take to kill her, but if it didn’t work, he could always try again later. And if it did work, if tomorrow was the morning she didn’t wake up, then it couldn’t be more perfect. Gina had been over to dinner, a perfect witness to Edith’s inebriated state in case there was any kind of investigation.

When he was done with the dishes, he came into the living room to find her sprawled on the couch, head tilted back, passed out. The glass that had held the brandy and ginger ale was on the coffee table. It was empty, except for three slivers of ice and one swallow of liquid. He swirled the glass, and was able to see the dregs of the crushed pills. He had done a poor job mixing the Valium into the drink, but it hadn’t mattered. Edith had drunk it anyway.

He rinsed the glass in the sink, then put it in the dishwasher and started the cycle. He was planning on watching television, waiting to see what would happen to Edith, but he was too keyed up. He turned the television on, just for the noise, then straightened up the living room, returning to the kitchen to do a thorough clean of the junk drawer, something he’d been meaning to do for a while.