The Perfect Murder

Prologue

These men who killed their wives…they didn’t have a clue how to do it right, how to get away with it.

Malcolm Turner frowned in disgust as the credits appeared at the end of the true-crime show he’d just watched on TV. It had featured a male nurse who’d murdered his mouthy, blonde wife. As far as Malcolm was concerned, she’d deserved what she got-she’d been a straight-up bitch. But what kind of idiot talks about succinyl chloride right before using it to end a life?

“Punk,” Malcolm muttered and glanced over at his wife, asleep in bed next to him. When he killed her and her teenage son, no one would question a thing. They’d believe exactly what he wanted them to believe because he knew what the hell he was doing.

He should-he’d been in law enforcement for fifteen years.