Clarissa had not married simply for money. Oh no! She had married for prestige. Alphonse was a successful lawyer.
She was the perfect wife for such a man. She could throw a dinner party without a care. She shopped for groceries at Les Pères Nature, and not at one of those common supermarket chains. She could keep the conversation going happily about every- and any- thing: Sandra Victoria Bloomingberry’s au pair for example.
It came as quite a shock one evening, as she and Alphonse dined guestless on cheap sausages and mashed potato, that a piece of inexpensive sausage became lodged in Alphonse’s throat. He went purple.
“Breathe darling,” urged Clarissa. “You have to breathe. In and out.”
But he didn’t breathe in and out. He dropped dead, choked on a low-cost sausage.
Hastily, Clarissa called for an ambulance. She had just enough time to hide the common sausages and mashed potato, and whip up a quick steak.
The next day, the newspapers sadly reported: the successful lawyer had apparently choked on an expensive steak purchased at Les Pères Nature.
Clarissa not only got the inheritance money, she could hold her head high at the funeral.