I knew this day would come. I had mulled it over in my mind every now and again, and I was prepared as much as I could be. I couldn't say the same about the officers though. The room was small and dark; and smelled of old coffee and cigarettes. The furniture was sparse. it consisted only of an old metal table and two equally uncomfortable chair. Above me the fluorescent light was flickering. It's buzzing noise calming my senses as I sat there waiting.

Outside I imagine the officers standing, discussing what they had found.

"We found seven bodies,” I imagined one saying to the other.

"Seven?” the other officer would echo in disbelief. "How could nobody have noticed that?”

"Beats me," the first one would reply. "The neighbors said he was always very friendly."

That's how I imagined their conversation to go ... or something like that. It was a simple way to keep myself entertained, if only so slightly. I could not tell how long I had been sitting in this room. It must have been a few hours. Eventually the heavy door swung open, and an officer dressed in the usual blue uniform entered the room.

"Good day, Mr. Anderson. Do you know why you're here?" he asked me. I didn't stir. I knew the question was just rhetorical. They never really want you to answer it.

"We have discovered seven bodies buried in your backyard," he continued as he sat down across from me. Still, I did not move a muscle.

"It will take time until we can identify all of them," he fixated me with his blue eyes. "But I advise you to cooperate now, and give us the names of your victims."

"Mary Anderson," I said leaning back in the chair with a straight face. I felt no emotion, not regret, or panic of being caught. They had already caught me, and honestly, I did not care. My eyes rested on the officer’s stern face. My reply was met with silence. Still penetrating me with his gaze he was waiting for me to continue, but there were no other names that I could give him.

After a while he broke the silence.

"And the other six?" he asked.

"Just Mary Anderson," I replied staring back at him.

"So, you do not know the name of your other victims, is that what you are saying?"

"No," I shook my head. “I'm saying that it's just Mary Anderson."

For a moment I could see confusion flicker in his eyes. He did not understand what I meant. How could he? If I had told him I had been murdering the same woman for weeks, he wouldn’t believe me. Then again nobody would.

He opened his mouth to speak but before he could utter another word we were interrupted by a knocking on the door. Promptly, as if he had been stung by a bee, the officer stood up and left the room. 

I shifted in my chair, now leaning forward over the table. My eyes fixed on the door. Oh, how I could wish I could hear what they are saying. Anything to ease this silence. It must have been the coroner's report that had just interrupted us. The bodies must have been found hours ago. I wondered if they did a DNA test. I chuckled. They probably did. They didn't know who was buried in my backyard.

After a while, the officer came back. However, this time he was not alone. He was accompanied by a man in a cheap suit, with short black hair, and stubble on his chin. One of the detectives, I presumed.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson," the one in the suit would address me. "My name is Detective Espinoza. I assume my colleague, Officer Willis, has already informed you of what had been found on your premises?"

"Yes detective," I nodded, giving him the broadest smile, I could muster. "He certainly did."

"Then you are not surprised why you are here?"

"No, not at all. It all makes perfect sense."

They exchanged a short, bewildered look. I guessed my unfazed nature threw them off a little bit. Usual suspects weren’t smiling while being interrogated. They would also most certainly not confess their crimes. However, I had nothing to lose, so I did not mind confessing to anything they wanted. In my mind, I could only gain from it.

"Well, as you know, we found seven female bodies buried in your backyard. Do you care to explain how that might have happened?" Detective Espinoza asked. 

"Oh," I chuckled. "That is easy. I buried them there."

A faint smile rushed over the detective’s lips before he sat down across from me. This all must seem so easy. He was probably thinking that I must be mad. However, I was perfectly sane. At least, I thought so.

"Do you care to elaborate?" he asked.

"Well, detective," I could not help but smirk. "You see, I killed them and then I had some dead bodies to get rid of. So, I thought, why not bury them in the backyard?"

"I see," the detective replied, pausing for a while as he was looking through the file he had in his hands. "And you said the name of the victims were, Mr. Anderson?"

"Mary Anderson."

"And the others?"

"Just Mary Anderson. I already told that to your officer, but I assume just as he didn't, you would not believe me either,” my eyes wandered to the officer behind him and back. “I also assume that what you are holding in your hands is the coroner's report. He must have done a DNA test, am I right?"

Neither the officer nor the detective replied, but I could see from their faces that I was correct. I enjoyed this conversation. It was like blessed rain after a long draught, and I planned to savor every word of it.

"I also assume that what is written in this coroner's report it is the reason you're here to talk with me. It says that all the seven women share the same DNA," I continued, gently smiling at the men across from me. 

"Does your wife have any sisters?" the detective asked. "Six perhaps?"

"No," I shook my head smirking. "Mary was an only child."

"Then how would you explain that the same DNA was found on all seven bodies?"

"That is simple," I chuckled. "Because they're all the same person. They're all Mary Anderson."

The detective just stared at me. I could see his conviction of my insanity written all over his face.

"All the same person?" the officer exclaimed disbelievingly. "That's impossible!"

The detective, however, said nothing. He kept his posture. That was why Mr. Espinoza was the detective, and Mr. Willis was not. My eyes wandered to the officer.

"Then how would you explain it, Mr. officer?” my tone was taunting.  

"Cross-contamination," he answered swiftly, although he did not sound certain. Maybe he was harboring some doubt?

"And the same body features, wounds, dental records?" I continued, staring at him smiling. Although, one could misinterpret it as docility, it was not one of friendliness. Rather a smile you would give an annoying child, while you uttered a threat it would not be able to comprehend.  

"No," I leaned back in the chair. "They are all Mary Anderson. And soon, outside this door, will be my wife, Mary Anderson, demanding my immediate release."

Both just stared at me in silence. Just a moment later somebody knocked at the door.

"One moment," the detective replied and signaled the officer behind him to open the door as he arose from the chair. His gaze still fixed on me, as I was smiling back at him. 

"Sir," I could hear a female voice coming from the other side. "The suspect's wife, Mary Anderson, is here. She demands her husband's immediate release."

"On what grounds?" the detective bellowed.

"Lack of evidence, coercion, should I go on?" I heard my wife shrieking voice roaring from the hallway.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. This shrieking voice. This obnoxious voice, of this bloodsucking and obnoxious woman. Oh, how I hated it with every fiber of my being. I tried to calm myself, however I could not. The urge to murder her right on the spot was rising within me. I knew I could not do it now. Not here. Not in a police station. I would have to wait until tonight, and then try again. I would try to murder my wife again for the eighth time. However, the sweet sense of peace and freedom would only last a day until this wretched woman would come back to haunt me again. Oh, how I wished that death did us part.