{CROSSWAYSNET}

The bathroom door ajar. Slowly he crosses the threshold. Only the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. Odd shadows behind the shower curtain. He pulls it aside. A smear of blood down the tile to the body of his wife. Throat slashed. She’d threatened it - she’d ruin him at any cost. But how? He stumbles back to the bedroom; an overwhelming need for a drink. Frantic for the hidden bottle, he throws open the sock drawer. Cash missing. Reaching deep, his hand hits something cold and wet. He lifts a bloody knife. It’s not mine! 

“Freeze! Police!”