The Imperfect Crime

Jerry Michael Williams had headed to the Lake for a spot of December duck hunting. Mike, as everybody called him, didn't come home again. The conclusion to draw was clear. The thirty-one-year-old had slipped, fallen into the chilly waters and drowned before falling prey to one or more of those large alligators that waited, barely visible, in the waters. The year 2000 was coming to a close, and the real estate appraiser would not be home for the New Year. It was December 16th, the sixth anni...