Ellen Braugh hadn’t expected to kill someone the very day she bought the gun, but life has a way of not going according to plan. She had meant to take the gun home and hide it beneath her pillow and wait for Dwayne to come home, drunk or possessed (what’s the difference?), and start in on her. She’d put up with it for too long already, and when you’re the wife of an abusive cop, there’s not much you can do.
So she’d gone into Hank’s wearing a low-cut tee-shirt and some extra makeup and said she was looking to surprise Dwayne for his birthday, so could he please keep it a secret, but she would like to get a new .44 magnum for his upcoming 44th birthday, thank you. She’d researched enough to know that a .44 to the head wasn’t something pretty to look at.
The day she went and picked it up (thank you so much, Hank, I just know he’ll love it), she was feeling happy enough that she decided to stop by the store and pick up some ice cream, a little treat she could enjoy after the deed was done. Any old place would do, there, just at Fate & 15th. Fate, she thought. God had a sense of humor after all.