THREE MONTHS AGO I killed my wife. I felt justified at the time because of the affair she had been having. I thought if I waited it out she would tire of Roger, but finally realized it was me she was tired of. The thought of giving up Samantha made me feel panic. I knew I could never let her go.
It actually was pretty simple. Samantha said she had something important to discuss with me. I certainly knew what topic that would be. I suggested we take our cruiser, “The Samantha,” out for a spin. We would have complete privacy. We were about a mile and a half offshore with no other boats in sight. When she had asked for a divorce, I felt cold and numb. I knew what I had to do. It was easy to push Samantha down into the galley and lock her in. It was just as easy to climb aboard the dinghy that I had pulled along for an escape. The small amount of explosives planted in the bottom of the boat made enough of a hole to cause the compartment to flood. Luck was with me because no one saw the boat do down and later when I reported my wife and boat missing, they were never found. I thought that was the end of it.
That’s when the letters started to arrive along with messages left on my answering machine. They said they were from Samantha! She said she had escaped and was going to make me pay. Her words haunted me day and night. Curiosity and despair drove me back to the area where “The Samantha” went down. With diving gear on, I searched for the boat. The water was pretty clear and it wasn’t long before I found her. The galley door was still locked and I could not budge the door. Surely she must still be in there. My guilty conscience was getting the better of me. I started to panic. I even thought maybe I was dealing with a ghost until I reached the surface of the water. There waiting for me was Roger and the police. They had followed me.
Roger knew Samantha was going to ask for a divorce that day and had a hunch something was up when I reported Samantha missing. Roger, with the help of his sister, had been baiting me for months with letters and phone calls hoping my guilty conscience would get the best of me. It looked as if their persistence had finally paid off.