My husband’s mistress was dead – murdered. That afternoon, my husband and I were taken to the police station. I actually had no idea my husband was having an affair. If it weren’t for this murder case, I might have been kept in the dark forever. To identify the killer, the police took our fingerprints and asked about our whereabouts during the victim’s estimated time of death. The victim, Mandy Liu, was a 28-year-old office worker. She died around 11 PM on July 30, 2019. The cause of death was a severed carotid artery, leading to massive blood loss. It had been three days since Mandy Liu’s death. With only three days passed, I clearly remembered what happened that night. My husband had been with me the whole time, sleeping very soundly. So I naturally told the truth. My husband and I were questioned separately by the police. I was interviewed by a man and a woman. The man, Mike, was around 30 and a deputy leader of the major crime unit. The woman, Wendy, looked to be in her late 20s and was quite beautiful. Perhaps because I was pregnant and had just learned about my husband’s affair, they saw my red-rimmed eyes and were very gentle when questioning me, probably worried I couldn’t handle the psychological stress. Especially Wendy – she looked at me with kind eyes and asked, “Mrs. Lin, please think carefully. Are you absolutely certain your husband didn’t leave the house that night? Is it possible he snuck out while you were asleep?” I was taken aback, considered for a moment, then said, “Officer Wendy, since becoming pregnant I’ve been sleeping a lot, so I go to bed early every night. All I can say is that my husband was there when I fell asleep and when I woke up.” Wendy and Mike exchanged a glance. Curiously, I asked, “Officer Wendy, can’t you extract DNA evidence from the rape victim? If you suspect my husband, you could test for that.” Even as I said this, I was thinking – they were already having an affair, why would he need to rape her? The killer definitely wasn’t my husband. Seeing my question, Wendy shook her head and said, “The killer was clever and didn’t leave any useful evidence. So this case is a bit complicated to investigate.” I made a sound of acknowledgment. Wendy asked how far along my pregnancy was. I told her just over 4 months. She smiled and glanced at my belly, saying it looked quite large and might be twins. She added that pregnant women are prone to emotional reactions and advised me to try to stay positive and take good care of myself. I was very touched by Wendy’s words. After chatting a bit more, I left the police station. I thought my husband would be coming home with me, but Officer Mike said he needed to stay and assist with the investigation. With no other choice, I had to go home alone. Back in my neighborhood, I learned from neighbors that several police officers had come by. They had checked the security camera footage and asked if anyone had heard our door open between 9 PM and early morning on July 30th. I asked what the neighbor had told them. She said she hadn’t heard anything, so she told them the truth. Hearing this, I felt reassured. I assumed my husband would be spending the night at the police station since he wasn’t answering my calls. But just as I was about to go to sleep after dinner, he came home. He was still cold and aloof as usual. I got up to heat some food for him, but he stopped me. I asked, “Honey, why didn’t you answer my call earlier?” He said the police had taken his phone to copy his chat and call records. Thinking about all the intimate exchanges with that woman on his phone, I felt disgusted. But considering the baby, I held back. After all, that woman was dead now – what was there left to be upset about? But I was wrong. My lack of concern didn’t mean others felt the same. As I dozed off, I suddenly felt a violent choking sensation. Opening my eyes, I realized my husband was frantically strangling me, trying to kill me.
I struggled desperately, pushing against him while choking out, “Honey… I’m carrying your child… Do you really… want both of us dead?” My words had the desired effect. He slowly released my neck, forcefully gripping my shoulders instead. Glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, he shouted, “Lucy, tell me – did you hire someone to kill Mandy?” His rage terrified me. I quickly explained, “Honey, you’re… you’re wrong. I don’t have the guts for that.” “Hmph! You’d better hope I don’t find out you did it. Otherwise, I’ll strangle you myself.” With a final menacing glare, my husband got off the bed and left. He didn’t return to the bedroom that night. I tossed and turned, his furious face haunting my thoughts. It wasn’t until nearly dawn that I finally drifted into a fitful sleep. I was woken by the sound of the doorbell. After listening for a while and realizing no one was answering, I drowsily got up to go downstairs and open the door. But as I descended the stairs and saw the scene in the living room, I let out a scream of horror. My husband was slumped motionlessly on the sofa, surrounded by a large pool of blood. He had slit his wrists. A bloody scalpel lay on the coffee table. Seeing this terrifying sight, I screamed again. I couldn’t bear to look a second time – it was too horrific. My whole body went limp and I collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. The doorbell kept ringing. Hearing my screams, it became even more urgent. I wanted to open the door but found I had no strength. I could only sit there sobbing. After what felt like forever, the door was forced open from outside. Wendy and Mike entered, followed by two uniformed officers. When they saw my husband, they were all startled. Mike immediately called the medical examiner, while Wendy helped me up from the floor where I sat crying. The medical examiner arrived quickly and made a preliminary determination of suicide, with time of death around 2 AM. His face was contorted, as if he had experienced something terrifying just before dying. Mike told me that my husband was the one who had killed Mandy Liu. I didn’t believe it at first, but he said the evidence was conclusive. They had obtained security camera footage from both our neighborhood and Mandy’s. Although he had avoided the cameras in our complex, he wasn’t as familiar with Mandy’s area. They had captured an image of him there around 10 PM on the night of the murder. I was stunned. Mike also told me they had found WeChat records on my husband’s phone confirming he and Mandy had planned to meet those days. So their initial conclusion was that my husband had committed suicide out of guilt. I felt devastated. I crouched down, my body shaking uncontrollably like a sieve. The police took my husband’s body away for further examination. Our living room became a crime scene, surrounded by police tape. Especially that pool of blood on the floor – it made my heart race with fear just looking at it. After I finished giving my statement, Wendy seemed very sympathetic. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder and asked softly, “Lucy, I see bruises on your neck. Did Charlie abuse you?” Her question reminded me of the previous night’s events. I wiped away my tears and carefully said, “Last night I confronted him about the affair. He was in a bad mood and got physical.” Wendy looked thoughtful, then said after a pause, “The neck is a vulnerable area. It seems he was trying to kill you. Why didn’t you call the police?”
Wendy’s words startled me. I took a deep breath and said, covering my neck, “Officer Wendy, he’s my husband – the father of my unborn child.” Seeing my response, Wendy didn’t press further. As they prepared to leave, she advised me to stay at a nearby hotel if I felt unsafe at home, and to call her if I needed anything. I nodded in agreement and watched them go. I grew up in a rural area, with my parents still living far away in the countryside. My husband’s parents were from another city. After college, we both found jobs here, so we bought our marital home in this city. But I never imagined I’d end up alone in this 2000 square foot house. The thought made me incredibly sad. I went upstairs to pack a few changes of clothes and checked into a nearby hotel. After eating a little, I took out my husband’s bank cards and called the online banking customer service. To my surprise, I discovered there was over $500,000 in deposits across his accounts. I didn’t actually know my husband’s bank card PINs. But recently I had purposely asked him to take me shopping for baby items. By watching him enter his WeChat Pay password multiple times, I had secretly memorized it. I guessed that like most people, he probably used the same password for WeChat, Alipay and his bank cards to avoid forgetting. Sure enough, my hunch was correct – it worked on the first try. Ever since getting pregnant, I had suffered from severe morning sickness and was forced to quit my job as a makeup artist at a photo studio. My husband was very guarded about money and only gave me $500 a month for living expenses. This had always bothered me. I put away the bank cards, feeling exhausted. I dozed off on the bed and had a nightmare. In the dream, I was lying motionless in bed while Mandy Liu and my husband Charlie grinned eerily at me, reaching out to strangle me. I jolted awake, realizing it was just a dream. Parched, I was about to get up for some water when my phone on the nightstand rang. Seeing it was Wendy calling, my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath before answering. Wendy asked which hotel I was staying at, saying there were some more things they needed to understand. I gave her the hotel name. About 30 minutes later, Wendy arrived alone – Mike wasn’t with her this time. I let her into the room. Wendy smiled and said, “Mrs. Lin, although your husband’s death appears to be suicide, the autopsy found a significant amount of alprazolam in his system – much more than a normal dose. Did he have any medical conditions requiring this medication?” “Alprazolam?” I pondered the drug name, then realized, “Oh, you mean the sleeping pills? My husband had insomnia. He only took a couple pills when he couldn’t sleep.” “Is that so? But the amount detected in your husband’s body was at least five times a normal dose. How do you explain that?” Hearing Wendy’s words, I gave a bitter laugh.
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