2142. Elsie’s method of murder

It was a marvellous way to murder. Elsie wondered why no one had thought of it before. She wondered why it wasn’t ever employed in a whodunit novel. She had used it twice on her husbands; first on Bert, and several years later on Edgar.

There was not the slightest suspicion stemming from the murders. All she need do each time was to feign a genuine grieving.

And now her third husband was in line. She had grown tired of him, and if the truth be told, he had grown tired of her. A murder, particularly Elsie’s method of murder, was a lot cheaper (and quicker) than a divorce. She made provisions to carry out the deed the following Friday. That would give her the weekend to make suitable arrangements for grief.

Friday arrived! The deed was done and with considerable panache! Frederick was dead! How sad is that?

What was Elsie’s method you might well ask? To give the method away would ruin the possibility of using it again. She might need to perform it on Hubby Number Four.

1088. Woman in the park

Hello. Did I ever tell you? A few years ago I had the perfect household: five dogs, eight cats, and two humans. I had two border collies, a corgi, a schnauzer, and a chihuahua. The corgi thought it was a cat. It used to look after the baby kittens. Even lick them. The mother cat didn’t mind because she thought the corgi was a cat too.

When I married for a second time, quite late in life, my husband was off a farm and he had never had a pet dog, and that’s why I got him the two border collies. He adored them. These days it can get quite lonely without all these friends. That’s why I come for a walk in the park. What is your dog’s name?

Hello. Did I ever tell you? A few years ago I had the perfect household: five dogs, eight cats, and two humans. I had two border collies, a corgi, a schnauzer, and a chihuahua. The corgi thought it was a cat. It used to look after the baby kittens. Even lick them. The mother cat didn’t mind because she thought the corgi was a cat too.

When I married for a second time, quite late in life, my husband was off a farm and he had never had a pet dog, and that’s why I got him the two border collies. He adored them. These days it can get quite lonely without all these friends. That’s why I come for a walk in the park. What is your dog’s name?

Hello. Did I ever tell you…

1052. Tears from onions

Quite frankly, Marjory was sick of her husband. They’d been married for three years, both for the third time. Things hadn’t worked out as happily as intended for Marjory. She had presumed on her third wedding day that this was going to be it, but he quickly became boring. Personality-less. Spineless. He liked to cook. He was hopeless at it.

Marjory devised a plan. She mixed poisonous tulip bulbs up with the onions. They didn’t look too dissimilar. And of course, her boring husband wore big powerful spectacles because he was half blind – or so he reckoned.

There he was (Marjory watched him) chopping up the tulip bulbs and tossing them raw into a salad. She must remember not to eat any! Hopefully, because he stuffed his food in like there was no tomorrow, he would have stuffed a considerable amount of poison into his system before he realized they tasted horrible.

And he did! The funeral was last Thursday. His two former wives came to the funeral. Marjory’s two former husbands didn’t attend. They had both died, each time leaving Marjory a grieving widow.

681. Dora couldn’t win

When Dora lost her third husband in less than five years, people started to talk. Dora was still in her early thirties. She had three children, all from different husbands. Each husband’s death had been a tragedy. They’d all died young; one from cancer, one in a traffic accident, and one by his own hand.

Her kids would come home from school and say that Sally or Harry or whoever had said that their fathers had been poisoned. Dora would see people in the supermarket point and whisper behind their hands.

There she is! There’s the woman who mysteriously buried three husbands in less than five years.

There was only one thing for it. Dora would move her family to another town. She would start again.

And she did that! It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t cheap, but she did it! Another house, another school, another group of strangers.

Her kids would come home from school and say that Sally or Harry or whoever had laughed at them because they all looked different from each other and had different fathers. Dora would see people in the supermarket point and whisper behind their hands.

There she is! There’s the solo mother with three kids. She’s seen more ceilings than Michelangelo.