"Lamb To The Slaughter" by Roald Dahl, told by EzekieL...

ok... this is a short story of the macabre by roald dahl which I shortened and adapted slightly
it's name is "Lamb to the Slaughter"

The room was warm and clean, the curtains drawn, the two table lamps alight - hers and the
one by the empty chair opposite. On the sideboard behind her, two tall glasses, soda water,
whisky. Fresh ice cubes in the Thermos bucket.
Mary Maloney was waiting for her husband to come home from work.
She kept on glancing at the clock, not anxious, but just to see that another minute had passed between now and when the one she loved would arrive home.
There was a contented, tranquil air about her, her head as she bent over her sewing, her skin - 
for this was her sixth month with child - had acquired a translucency.
When the clock was at ten to five she started listening and she heard the sound of the
car tyres on the gravel outside, the door slamming, the footsteps up to the door, the key 
turning in the lock. She stood up, put her sewing aside and came to him and kissed him.
'Hullo, darling,' she said.
'Hullo,' he replied.
She hung up his coat and went to pour drinks for both of them, a stronger one for him and a weakish one for herself.
Then, after he had sat down, she gave him his drink, the ice cubes clinking in the glass and sat down herself.
For her this was always a blissful time, she knew he wouldn't want to speak much until
the first drink was finished, and she was content to sit quiet, enjoying his company
in silence after being alone all day. She loved to be in the presence of this man,
to feel - almost as a sunbather feels the sun - that warm male glow that came 
out of him to her when they were alone together. She loved him for the way he loosely sat
in his chair, for the funny shape of his mouth, and especially the silence about his 
tiredness, sitting still until the whisky had taken some of it away.
'Tired, darling?'
'Yes,' he said, 'I'm tired.' And as he spoke he did an unusual thing.
He lifted his glass and drained it in one swallow, although there was still at least half of it left.
He paused a moment, leaning forward in the chair, then he got up and went slowly over to fetch himself another.
'I'll get it!' she cried, jumping up.
'Sit down,' he said.
When he came back she noticed that his drink was dark amber with the amount of whiskey in it.
'Darling, shall I get your slippers?'
'No.'
He sipped his drink and she noticed oily swirls in it because it was so strong.
'I think it's a shame' she said 'that when a policeman gets to be as senior as you they still keep him on his feet all day.'
He didn't answer, just sipped his drink.
'Darling,' she said. 'Would you like me to get you some cheese? I haven't made any supper because it's Thursday.'
'No,' he said.
'If you're too tired to eat out' she went on, 'There's plenty of meat in the freezer.'
Her eyes waited for him to answer, to smile, to make a sign, but nothing.
'Anyway,' she said, 'I'll get you some cheese and crackers first.'
'I don't want it,' he said.
She shifted uneasily, large eyes still watching his face. 'But you must have supper! We'll have lamb chops.'
'Forget it,' he said.
'But darling! You must eat! I'll fix us the lamb chop anyway so you can have some if you change your mind.'
She stood up placing her sewing aside.
'Sit down,' he said 'just for a minute'
It wasn't until then that she began to feel frightened.
She lowered herself slowly into her seat. He finished his drink and began to speak.
'Listen,' he said 'I've got something to tell you'
'What is it darling? What's the matter?'
He was totally motionless, and he kept his head down, the lamp illuminating his upper face and she noticed a small twitch in the corner of his left eye.
'This is going to be a bit of a shock to you I'm afraid' he said. 'But I've thought about it and I've decided it's the right thing to do.'
And he told her, It didn't take long, and she sat still all the way through watching him in dazed horror as he went further and further away from her with every word.
'And that's it,' he said 'Of course I'll see you are given money and looked after. But don't fuss, it wouldn't be good for my job.'
At first she wanted to reject it all, not believe it, she told herself she had imagined it all. Maybe she would wake up in a moment and it would all have been a bad dream.
But finally she "woke up".
'I'll get supper,' she managed to whisper, and walked out.
She walked down the stairs into the cellar, swaying as if with nausea, opened the deep freeze
and lifted the first parcel out that she saw. A leg of lamb.
All right then, they'd have lamb for supper.
'For God's sake,' he said, as she was going to the kitchen 'Don't make supper for me. I'm going out.'
At that point, Mary Maloney simply walked up behind him, swung the leg of lamb high in the air and brought it down as hard as she could on his head.
She stepped back a pace, waiting, and the funny thing was that he remained standing there for at least four of five seconds, gently swaying. Then crashed to the carpet.
Allright, so I've killed him she told herself.
It was extraordinary, now how clear her mind was. She began thinking fast. As the wife of a
detective she knew what he punishment would be. That was fine. On the other hand what about
the child? Did they kill both mother and unborn child, or did they wait till the child was
born? What would they do?
Mary Maloney didn't know. And she didn't want to take the chance.
She carried the meat to the oven and shoved it inside, turning it on high.
Then she washed her hands, went to the mirror and practiced smiling. The smile was strange.
'Hullo Sam,' she said brightly aloud.
The voice sounded peculiar too.
'I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.' That was better.
She went downstairs and put her coat and shoes on, walked out the door and down the street.
It wasn't six yet, and the lights were still on in the grocery store.
'Hullo Sam,' she said brightly to the man behind the counter.
'Why, good evening, Mrs Maloney. How're you?'
'I want some potatoes please, Sam. Yes, and I think a can of peas.'
The man turned and reached up to fetch a can of peas and some potatoes.
'Patrick's decided he's too tired to eat out, you know we normally eat out on Thursdays, don't you? And he's caught me with no vegetables in the house'
'What about meat Mrs Maloney?'
'I've got meat thanks. I got a nice leg of lamb from the freezer.'
'Oh.'
'I don't much like cooking it frozen, but I'm taking a chance on it this time. It'll be alright, you think?'
'Personally I don't think it makes any difference, here are your potatoes. Anything else?'
'What do you think, Sam?'
'How about a nice big slice of cheesecake, I know he likes that'
'He loves it,' she said.
And when it was wrapped and paid she put on her brightest smile and said, 'Thankyou, Sam. Goodnight.'
'Goodnight Mrs Maloney. And thank YOU.'
And now she hurried back, all she was doing now, she told herself, was hurrying home to prepare her husband's dinner.
And naturally if she happenned to find anything unusual or tragic, or terrible, then naturally it would be a shock and she'd become frantic with grief and horror.
That's the way, she told herself. Do everything right and natural. Do everything natural and there's no need for acting.
Therefore when she entered the kitchen by the back door, she was humming a little tune to herself and smiling.
'Patrick!' she called. 'How are you darling?'
She put the parcels down, and went into the living room, and when she saw him sprawled on the
carpet, like a rag doll, she felt all the love for him come back. And began to cry. No acting was necessary.
A few minutes later she got up and phoned the police, when someone answered she cried 'Quick! Come quick! Patrick's dead!'
'Who's speaking?'
'Mrs Maloney. Mrs Patrick Maloney.'
'You mean Patrick Maloney's dead?'
'I think so,' she sobbed. 'He's lying on the floor and I think he's dead.'
'We'll be right over' the man said
The car came quickly. She knew both the policeman - she knew nearly all the policemen in the district. And she fell into Jack Noonan's arms, weeping hysterically.
The other one, O'Malley, knelt by the body.
'Is he dead?' she cried.
'I'm afraid he is, what happened?'
She explained that she had been to the grocer's and when she came back found him lying there.
And soon the house was full of policemen, a doctor,and a photographer. All asked her a lot
of questions. But they all treated her kindly. They asked her which grocer and fifteen
minutes later a policeman returned with a page of notes. And as she was sobbing she heard
'...acted quite normal... very cheerful... wanted to give him a good supper... peas... cheesecake...impossible that she...'
After a while the photographer and the doctor and most of the policemen departed. Leaving her with Jack Noonan and three other policemen.
He asked her to stay the night over at his wifes and his house in the spare room but she refused.
Then he began to explain her that her husband was killed by a blow from a heavy weapon.
'It's the old story,' he said 'find the weapon and we have our man.'
Later a detective asked her whether she had a metal vase or a spanner in the house.
No metal vases... perhaps a spanner in the garage.
The four remaining men searched the house through and through, but found nothing.
At around nine she asked for a drink
'You mean that whisky?' Jack Noonan asked.
'Yes please, just a little one. Why don't you have one yourself?'
'It's not strictly allowed, but I might manage a drop just to keep me going.'
One by one the others came in and were persuaded to have a whiskey. And so they were finally all standing rather awkwardly with their drinks in their hands.
Sergeant Noonan wandered into the kitchen, came out quickly and said, 'Look, Mrs Maloney, You know that oven of yours is still on, and the meat still inside.'
'Oh DEAR me!' she cried. 'So it is! Would you please turn it off for me?'
When the sergeant returned the second time she looked at him and said 'Jack, would you please do me a small favour - you and all these others? Would you eat the lamb in the oven, it's just cooked and it'll go to waste if you don't.'
'Wouldn't dream of it,' Sergeant Noonan said.
'Please,' she begged. 'Please eat it. Personally I couldn't touch a thing, certainly not what's been in the house when he was here. But it's all right for you. You'd be doing me a favour eating it up.'
There was a good deal of hesitation among the four policemen but in the end they were persuaded to go into the kitchen and help themselves.
The woman stayed where she was, listening to them through the open door, and she could hear them speaking among themselves, their voices thick and sloppy because their mouths were full of meat.
'Have some more, Charlie?'
'No. Better not finish it.'
'She WANTS us to finish it, she said so.'
'Okay then. Give me some more.'
'That's a hell of a big club the guy must've used to hit poor Patrick,' one of them was saying. 'The doc says his skull was smashed all to pieces just like from a sledge hammer.'
'That's why it ought to be easy to find.'
'Exactly what I say.'
'Whoever done it, they're not going to be carrying a thing like that around with them longer than they need.'
One of them belched.
'Personally, I think it's right here on the premises.'
'Probably right under our very noses. What you think, Jack?'
And in the other room, Mary Maloney began to giggle.
The End