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July 20, 2006


Chapter Seven

Three days went by with no news.

In the meantime, I had prepared the fresh meat with soy sauce, rolled it in cracked black pepper and dried it in the dehydrator according to the instructions for turkey jerky. The next day it would be done and I could start on another batch.

But I couldn’t make all of Jackie’s remains into jerky. I’d have to eat some of the meat prepared another way. Jackie’s family was Portuguese, and one of her favorite meals was a Brazilian dish called feijoada. She would be proud to be made into a nice pot of the meaty stew, I thought. So, I tossed the rest of her into the biggest stockpot I could find, along with some potatoes, carrots, onions, black beans, ham hocks, cumin, oregano, garlic and fresh parsley.

Four hours later I had enough food for the month. I portioned most of it into single-serving bags, carefully marked them as "special stew", dated them and tossed them into the freezer. The rest was my dinner all that week and I must say it was more than a little tasty. I hate to honk my own horn here, but I’ve always been a good cook. Jackie never was much in the kitchen department, so I learned to cook out of necessity.

That first week after, I took a few half-hearted stabs at writing for the blog every day, but nothing seemed to click. I never really felt funny because I was waiting for the first shoe to drop.
A couple of days ago it did.

I got a call from Jackie’s sister Amy about an hour before Detroit’s finest knocked on my door. I told her that I never saw Jackie that night and I was shocked to hear that she was missing. "Is there anything I can do?," I asked. She bought my act hook, line and sinker.

The cops weren’t much tougher to sell.

They told me that the Mustang was found stripped and abandoned on Belle Isle and that a local car thief was in custody. His fingerprints were everywhere in the car. They also told me that they needed to get a statement since, according to her sister, Jackie had been headed to my house at the time she disappeared. I complied.

The cops went on to say that two more suspects were in custody in connection to the case. They had been caught trying to buy gas with one of Jackie’s credit cards and the police were trying to tie them to the car thief as accomplices. Even without a body, they told me, they had a good chance to get a conviction on intent, if not actual homicide. And that meant serious jail time, they said.

Before leaving, they offered their condolences. No dropping of the second shoe, I guess.

Home free.


Well, that’s my story.

I never could bear to get rid of the tape. I know it’s evidence, but it’s also Jackie’s voice. I listen to it once in a while just to remind me of her. Funny thing, too...Since the divorce wasn’t final, I was still named as the beneficiary of her $1 million life insurance policy. I’m going to ride it out here for a year or so just to keep from arousing suspicion, but then I’m headed for the suburbs. I’m thinking Royal Oak or Birmingham. I might even move back to L.A.

Before you judge me, dear readers, I beg you to put yourselves in my place. Think you couldn’t do what I did? Don’t doubt yourselves for a minute, my friends. We all have the capability to kill inside of us. And you’ll never know when circumstances will call upon you to do it. Be ready.

Surviving makes you stronger. Trust me I know. Jackie and I have made peace with each other, and from now on, I’m kicking serious ass and taking mother-fucking names!

So, look for more on Beyonce next week! Also, "J-Lo says ‘No!’ to Lipo!" Meanwhile, "Brad Pitt kisses Angelina Jolie’s ass...AGAIN!!!!" and "Turkey Jerky Plays Well At Blog Office Party!"

A.) Do you think he realizes that he just confessed to murder?
B.) Shh! Maybe there’s a reward.
C.) Quick, call 9-1-1.


Good. valencia
ir a valencia
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