FRAGMENTS OF A GOD

Chapter 1

John

“Mr Johnson Boston, you are under arrest for the murder of Mrs Claire Rudolph and her two daughters June and Sandy. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law, Now let’s go.”

I turned around, wondering if there was another Johnson Boston where I worked but there was only one and that was me.

“I think you have the wrong person, I didn't murder anyone,” I said confidently because I was freaking innocent.

I am 5 foot 7 inches, leaching off his wife’s family—at least that is what people say because I am an Orphan married to a conglomerate. Even though I spent the last five years of our marriage and my life building the company, I am still nothing but the lowly, poor Orphan who would never deserve Nancy, my wife.

In short, to say, I have no intention of committing murder.

“Is your name Johnson Boston?” The officer grunted, frowning, glaring at me like I was actually the murderer.

“Yes, that is my name,” I answered boldly because, as my older sister used to say, you only tremble when you are guilty.

“Cuff him.” The officer snarled and before I could do anything, the other officer next to him had my hands clasped together, putting the cuffs in my hand, tightening it so I don’t break free.

Despite everything that was going on, I was still lost and confused. I didn't know what they were talking about.

They hurled me out of the building, my wife’s family’s company where I worked.

“So he killed someone?”

“I don’t believe it, John is too nice to hurt a bug.”

“It’s always the nice ones, they are always the psychopaths.”

My colleagues mumbled amongst themselves as the officers pushed me out of the office.

Getting to the station, I was taken directly into the investigation room. There was a huge glass that separated us from another part of the room. Before me was a male detective, the same one that took me from the company.

His face was doing a terrible job of hiding his disgust and hatred toward me and I didn't even know the guy.

“Detective, I am telling you, you have the wrong guy, I didn't hurt anyone, I can’t even stand the sight of blood,” I explained.

He scoffed, “I see, so that’s why you choose to strangle them and hang the wife and the two kings? You heartless bastard.” he bellowed. His fist clenched and he slammed it against the table.

My throat bobbed. Bewildered, I sat there. I didn't even know who he was talking about.

“You have the wrong person.” I blurted. “I am just a worker in my wife’s company, I didn't kill anyone… I don't even know this Claire an…”

I froze.

Claire? Mrs Claire Rudolph?

She is dead? What? How?

My father-in-law is the founder and President of the Artisan Group. A company that produces the best-processed food that is consumable for both adults and kids. He also owns the largest restaurant chain as well as the most produced beers in the company. They are the top dogs.

Not to brag or anything but they only got that high because of me. As I said, I devoted five years of my life to coming up with the best ways to bring the company to the top. Every month, I break a new record on the sales chart, bringing in customers far and wide while ensuring that we maintain all the customers.

I singlehandedly brought the company to the top five in the country.

But three weeks ago a woman came to the company, yelling that the food my wife produced was bad. At first, I thought it was a scheme from our competitors but it wasn't. His children were sick. My wife had made sure the food was good so I couldn't go to my wife. I did ask her about it and she gave me hell.

So I took it upon myself to investigate while helping the woman with enough funds to care for her children who could barely afford to go to the hospital.

And now you are telling me she is dead? With her two kids?

“That is not possible! I saw them three days ago!” I raged, as my mind did nothing but recall the last time I saw her. Her oldest daughter was getting better.

“You mean you killed them three days ago!” He thundered. He slammed a couple of pictures on the table, displaying the brutal way Claire and her children were murdered in their own house.

“No!” I screamed.

“Yes, you bastard! You went to their house, dragged the mother out of the room, beat her up, suffocated her, and hung her in the living room! You poisoned the children and hung them next to their mother, you bloody criminal!” He raged.

“No! I.. I didn’t!”

“I swear, I didn't do it! I was helping her! Why would I kill her!” I cried out.

“You will rot in jail for the rest of your life, I promise you!” He yelled.

This doesn't make any sense! Who would kill Claire? And why? Why would they kill her? And her children? And why am I being framed for the murder?

There was one person that came to mind but it’s not possible. There is no way she could have done it, there is no way.

Nancy can’t hurt a bug, she… She wouldn't have had them killed. No! No, I am overthinking it.

The door opened and a detective walked in, “Someone is here to see you.” he said and made way for someone to step in.

Nancy. My wife.

I got up and tried to hug her but she pulled away from me.

My brows furrowed, confused but I brushed it off. As long as she was here, I was fine. I love my wife. And seeing her makes me happy.

“I’m so glad you came.” I muffled.

She didn't say a word. She placed an envelope on the table and curled her arms around her chest without an ounce of emotion.

“What is it?” I asked but yet again no reply.

I picked it up and yanked out the form inside.

A… A divorce paper?

“What… what is this?” I asked.

“Let’s divorce, I can’t be married to a murderer.”