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Three little words.
That’s all they were, but every time she heard him say them, they had the same impact.
“Marry me, Eve,” came the voice through the phone.
“Alex, how many times have I heard that from you?” Eve paused to catch her breath. Though almost eighty-five, her bright eyes and delicate face made her look much younger.
“I don’t know how much time I’ve got left, but I want to spend it with you,” Alex said.
Eve sat alone on a couch in the living room of her rambling Beverly Hills home, trying to comprehend what she was hearing. She remembered all the times Alex had proposed, always to have something, usually another woman, get in the way. Hurt at the memory, her thoughts turned to the current Mrs. Getz, his curvaceous thirty-five-year-old former secretary. It had only been five years since they were married.
“Where’s Marcie?” Eve asked, guessing she had probably walked out on him, like the previous three wives. Eve wondered if she’d kept her sanity, something not one of the others managed during their stormy marriages to Alex.
“She’s dead.” He paused and then continued. “I shot the bitch ten minutes ago.”
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