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They found Matt Williams sitting next to his wife's body, holding her hand. His eyes were slightly glazed over, and his face was splattered with blood. Hers, presumably.
Detectives Max Foster and Danielle Lane had never seen anything like it.
Foster rubbed his nose, then took out his notebook and pen. "I've got a few questions, Mr. Williams. The neighbors called--they heard a shot."
"I did it."
"I did it."
Foster turned to Lane. "You hear that, Dan?"
"Yeah, Max," Lane said. She lit a cigarette.
"You've gotta understand," Williams said, stroking the back of his wife's hand. "I loved Andrea. I mean, I loved her. Crazy about her. It was just this little thing.
"It was the peanut butter."
"The peanut butter?" Lane asked. One manicured eyebrow arched.
"The peanut butter," Williams said. "It was so simple really. I didn't ask for much. I didn't mind frozen dinners, nights where she worked late at the office. I didn't mind doing my own laundry, even. It was the peanut butter that did it.
"It's so simple. JIF is the only brand that's worth anything, you know? But Andrea kept buying Skippy. I would ask SPECIFICALLY for JIF. I would put "JIF" on the grocery lists. And you know what? She just kept buying Skippy. Now, come on. Everyone knows JIF beats the pants off Skippy any day of the week."
Foster and Lane exchanged a significant look. Silence reigned for a few seconds before Lane cleared her throat. "Choosy moms choose JIF."
"It's true," Foster said. "I'm rather fond of JIF myself. It's the only peanut butter Maude ever buys. I insist on it."
Williams bit his lip. "I couldn't take it anymore, you know? I'd begged. I'd threatened." He paused, taking in a shuddering breath. "And... finally... when she brought the Skippy home today, I took out the pistol... and... I..."
Lane put her arm around Williams as Foster started to pull out his handcuffs. "No worries, Mr. Williams. I know for a fact that the DA has peanut butter sandwiches for lunch."
Liz Lopatto has brand loyalty.