Mrs Irene Rodgers didn’t exactly regard it as murder. Husband Perry’s death was more of a duty on her part. He had been bleeding off the government all his life. If it wasn’t a sickness benefit it was unemployment. If it wasn’t unemployment it was travel expenses. If it wasn’t this, it was that. After fourteen years of dependence upon the government, Irene had had enough. She did away with him. Surely the government would thank her – if they knew.
Perry’s demise had been well planned. In preparation she had dug dozens of little holes all around her substantial flower garden. After the killing, efficiently done with the pull of a trigger, she had used some fuming nitric acid to diminish the remains as much as possible, and then “planted” bits around the flowers. It took her a good week.
When all was done it was time to shop. But first things first: she had to apply for the widow’s benefit.