He sat in the big armchair, staring at the body. So strange to think it would never move again, at least on its own. For some reason this last was hilarious. His face twisted into a smirk the way it had when he was in school and someone had passed him an amusing note about the teacher’s ass. It was all he could do to burst out laughing.
It was tension, he knew, a terrible tension since he found out about the affair, from the moment he had confirmation. And now that was over and a new tension had taken its place, a quiet methodical tension of what to do next.
From where he was sitting it did not look like much blood was on the floor. The hole was so small. He hadn’t thought a .22 would do more than wound him. A lesson, no more. The shot sounded like a book dropped on tile. The asshole had clawed his chest and collapsed like a towel slipping off a rack.
Time to think. The sun was going down. No way to drag the body to his car down the street.
But the balcony offered possibilities. Yes. The balcony would do.