This week’s prompt:

A beloved person, “Whoopsie daisy” A table

It is right there on the video. Carter covered his face with his hands and rubbed at it furiously. It definitely was. Plain as day, Mrs. Josephine Karmichel, known locally as Ms. Josie, was wrestling a large plastic wrapped bundle into the trunk of her car. The same plastic wrapped bundle her late husband Michael Karmichel was found in two days ago. There was no mistaking it.
Mr. Karmichael had died of blunt force trauma and a broken neck, consistent with a fall down a flight of stairs. That would be easy enough to buy, but his body was not found at the bottom of a flight of stairs, it was found half sunk in the mud near the lake.
Suspicion always turns to the spouse, even when it is a sweet older woman like Ms. Josie. It was no secret that as sweet as she was, her husband was just as mean. While Ms. Josie volunteered at the library, and at the after-school program for kids that needed extra help or attention, or the hours at the animal shelter her husband was at his office, screaming down a phone line at a contractor, or a lawyer, or some hapless employee who now had even odds of having a nervous breakdown.
For all the time she spent trying to take the hurt away for others, she hid hers under layers of makeup and pretty scarves. All the doctors in town knew, and she paid them to stay quiet about it.
How could she have done this? Not the killing Michael, he deserved that, No one would fault her, but how did she make the mistake of being seen on camera?
It was taken with her own surveillance cameras. If she pushed him down the stairs, why not leave him there? No one would question it. Almost half the town rejoiced at the news that he was dead.
“We can’t ignore this,” Carter said sadly.
“No,” his partner Jeff agreed. “We cannot.” He stopped the playback and pulled out the tape. Despite their money, the Karmichels had not updated their security system in a long while. The system was so old, Carter and Jeff had to sit in the basement of the police station where the only working VHS player lived.
“Is this the only one?” Jeff asked. Carter nodded, too sunk in his own misery to ask why.
Jeff placed the tape on the table and started digging through drawers and cabinets. Carter watched him, confused.
“Found it!” Jeff declared and held up something that looked for all the world like a cartoon caricature of a magnet. Its horseshoe shape even had the red and white paint.
“This is not Who Killed Roger Rabbit,” Carter said, still not putting the pieces together.
“Nice reference,” Jeff said with a grin. He picked up the VHS tape and ran the magnet around the surface several times.
“Put it back in,” he said, handing it to Carter.
Cater slid the tape backing to the player. When he hit play, nothing but snow filled the screen. He forwarded and stopped several times in awe.
“Woopsie Daisy,” he said casually. “What a shame. I guess we will just have to live with the fate of Mr. Karmichel remaining a mystery.”
“A tragic accident indeed,” Carter agreed.