“I think I just met the happiest person in the world.” Clara closed the break room door stiffly as she entered, an entertained look spread across her face.

“Oh?” I took a sip of coffee as I sat up in my chair, intrigued.

“Yeah,” she started, “the man we found yesterday? That was his wife.” I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I knew the man, I had been working the case, I had gone to the scene. He had been found dead in his hotel room with two shots in his chest, but we had been unable to find any evidence of his identity.

“She identified him?” Clara nodded. “And she was... happy?” A smile spread across her face and she shrugged theatrically.

“It seems so,” She tossed the file on the table in front of me, “I know why you’re thinking, she has an alibi. I think you need to speak to her.”

...

“Sofia... Roberts?” I held out my hand as I approached the desk. A young woman, late twenties perhaps with softly curled auburn hair, turned in her chair to face me.

“Yes, it is, hello.” She beamed, taking my hand in hers and shaking delicately.

I sat down across the desk from her, “So, I understand you have identified this man,” I slid a photograph of the victim towards her, “as your husband?”

Her smile never faltered as she glanced flippantly down at the man and back at me, “That’s right.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She scoffed lightly before composing herself, nodding in thanks. “I’m sure this must be hard for you, Mrs. Roberts, but I’m afraid it seems your husband was murdered.”

“Clearly.” Her smile wavered and she appeared disinterested for the first time.

“Forgive me,” I started, unsure how to approach this delicately, “but you don’t seem entirely...”

“Sad?” She interrupted, laughing quietly to herself, “You wouldn’t be either if you knew him, you say he was murdered?” I nodded, “so he clearly wasn’t a well loved person then, was he?”

“Miss, we see incidents like this every week, it’s not uncommon for it to be a random act, a robbery-“

“No,” she waved her hand dismissively, “not this one, did you see a woman? Or any trace there had been one?”

“No, it appears he had been there alone.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” she beamed, pointing at me jokingly, “that was not my husband. New girl every time and he never once cared to hide it. Someone cleared their tracks.”

I sat there silently for a second, unsure what to say. “I’m... sorry, miss, but we didn’t find any evidence anyone else had been in that room.”

“Well,” she shrugged, gathering her bags, “if that’s everything?”

“If you know anything that may be of use to us-“

“Thank you, Detective, but I have no interest in solving this case, I’ll leave that to you. I’ve given my details and passport to your colleague if you need me to prove my whereabouts.”

“Of course, thank you for your help, Mrs. Roberts. I will do my best to find out what happened to your husband.” I reached out to shake her hand but she laughed it off.

“Oh, don’t be silly, I couldn’t care less what happened to that idiot. Whether or not you want to solve it is up to you.” She turned and strutted out of the room confidently.

Clara leaned over to me, “she’s certainly interesting, isn’t she?” She laughed lightly.

“I don’t understand,” I started, a feeling of bewilderment flooding over me, “why is she so happy? I mean, her husband doesn’t sound like the nicest man but still?” I looked at Clara and she raised her eyebrow at me.

“Did she show you the will?”