[ WP ] '' It was n't until later , when I was washing the blood off my hands I even knew they were dead . ''

I never believed Velma Kelly. I had to admit, she had stage presence. She could light up a room, even the court room on the `` murder trial of the century,'' as the Chicago Daily called it. Granted, the century was only two decades old, and there would be worse atrocities to come, but we did n't know that. We survived The Great War, did n't we? I did n't think anything could be worse than the gas that burns the lungs with pain and steals young boys to the grave and worse. And when we came back, the world we knew had vanished in a cloud of smoke and all that was left was sin and the smile of red lipstick from our once pure girls. She knew how to mix all the right elements for a good show. The love story gone sour, the snake in the grass, the dutiful wife scorned. Even if she had done it, she made you feel it was justified ( not entirely the best legal advice, even from the best lawyers money could buy ). Just the glamor, the charm, the waft of sex in her honey voice, enough to drive a man wild. Most of us hid our sweat in our stiff starched shirts, but the younger jury members were n't as successful. They fell on her crocodile tears. They fell for her immaculately cut black blouses that discretely showed what was above her heart, but not what was in it. They fell for her bad acting because it had emotion. It was raw and heady as she was getting into the act, the robe was coming off and so were the satin gloves. Now we were getting the tease. Her husband was unfaithful, she said. She blacked out, she said. Her prints were on the gun because she picked it up in shock. Someone else must have wiped their's off. Someone could have come in, he did have enemies after all, you know how it is for men who do the little backroom deals, the ones who do n't know how to keep their mouth shut. He kept the little pistol on his side to scare away the shadows and the men who owned them. It's all too common now anyway, as so many want to cut a slice of the hog: we all knew about the new heights the booze business could take you. All that blood for a drop of liquid amber. She said she was trying to keep him out of it, trying to get him close to the family. And boy was he close, cosying up to her sister. Would n't we, red blooded men who loved our women and wanted to keep them away from the dangers of sin and gin and blinding bliss emitting from a trumpet, understand the depths one would go when the person you'd give Everything for gave it all away? I did n't believe her, but eleven other people did.
