It's No Picnic by Kenneth E. Myers

cell. He picked it up, opening it, the contents falling to the floor. He did not think, rather just bending down and picking up the contents as if meant to be.
    The complicated folds on the letter made the task of unfolding confused, each fold seemingly taking an endless amount of time to unfurl, until finally, the letter stood before him, ready to read.
     
    CAP
     
    Sorry Henry. But it’s your time, not mine.
     
    Yours Truly and Forever
     
    Miss T. K.
     
    P.S. Don’t slip off that stool.
     
    “Aren’t you awake yet Henry Kay?” Detective Smith said.
    “Henry Kay? My name is Cap.”
    Smith rolled in the floor laughing, saying, “Cap. Who’s this Cap guy? A figment of your imagination I suppose. Yet another ploy to weasel out of a murder charge. You’re Henry, Henry Kay, husband of Nadie Kay, and that’s, that. Don’t you remember anything?”
    Henry looked down at the cell floor for a moment; then looking at Smith, exclaimed, “No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
    “Uhhh…You murdered your wife, Nadie Kay. You beat her to death with a baseball bat claiming she’d been sleeping with your best friend Alex. Need I say more?”
    “In Longport?”
    “Longport?” Smith said puzzled.
    “Longport. You know, ten miles outside Franktown.”
    “There’s no Longport around here Henry. You really should lay off whatever it is you’re dipping into. It’ll be the death of you. Anyway, I’ve talked to the judge and it looks like your arraignment will be next week. I wouldn’t go to the judge with these fishy tales or he’s liable to throw the book at you.”
    Then—Smith left, laughing …; making tall gestures of plea as if a man so condemned.
    Later that night as the guard was making his rounds, a crashing sound came from Henry’s cell. Quickly, the guard pointed his flashlight at the cell, seeing at once the body of a man hanging from a cord with a message etched into and across his chest:
     
    A M ADWOMAN M ADE M E D O I T