My Perfect Murder

My Perfect MurderIt was such an utterly perfect, such an incredibly delightful idea for murder that I was half out of my mind as I crossed America.The idea had come to me, for some reason, on my 48th birthday. Why it hadn't come to me when I was 30 or 40, I cannot say. Perhaps those were good years and I sailed through them unaware of time and clocks and the gathering of frost at my temples.Anyway, on my 48th birthday, lying in bed that night beside my wife, with my children sleeping in other qu...