Murder was the last thing on Eunice’s mind when she went, one summer’s day, to buy an ice cream. In fact, she had never contemplated murder once in her life. Murder was something that other people did, in another part of town. One read about it. One sees it reported on the television news. This murder was destined to be spontaneous.
She went into the store, asked for a rum and raisin ice cream, had one lick of it, and WHAM she was murdered. Eunice had been murdered. It would have been possible for things to be the other way around with Eunice doing the murdering. Either way, there’d be a dead body.
When the policeman turned up he was horrified at the waste of a good ice cream. No doubt all would agree.