Lucas didn’t have to be the brightest star in the sky to know that the dead body lying on his lawn with a severed head had not been put there by himself.
It was the body of his neighbour, Barney Parker. Lucas couldn’t say he was sad. Barney Parker had had an affair with Lucas’ late wife a few years back. And now, there was Barney’s body and severed head lying slap bang on his lawn. It was, in Lucas’ view, poetic justice.
The trouble was Lucas wasn’t that keen to call the police. He’d spent considerable time in prison not long after his wife had passed on. If he called the police they might easily think he was the number one suspect.
The mystery of why the body was on the lawn deepened. Lucas dragged Barney’s body into the garden shed and locked the door. It was where he had left it in the first place.
Elias dumped his wife’s murdered copse in the river while on the way to inform the police that his wife had gone missing.
It was mid-afternoon. His wife had been to town in the morning doing this and that. She had taken the Corvette, which was Elias’s pride and joy. When he had bought it the advertisement described it as “The eighth-generation Corvette, bold and breath-taking; a beautifully sculpted mid-engine sports car with potent aerodynamics, slicing the air with sheer precision.” Many a time had Elias warned her not to take the Corvette but to take her Buick. But oh no! The Corvette turned many a head; the Corvette made a big splash – especially when Lily drove it over the bank on the way home and into the river.
Thank goodness she was safe, but the car was totally submerged. Elias was not pleased when she walked into the house dripping wet and announced that the Corvette was now in the river.
That was when Elias saw red, and in his rage murdered Lily with the frying pan he was holding. He had to use the Buick to dump her body in the river. There was nothing to say she wasn’t thrown from the Corvette, whacked her head on a rock, and drowned.
In the end that was exactly what the forensic pathologist concluded.
The whole unwholesome affair has had one big drawback; in the days around the ensuing funeral Elias has to drive around in Lily’s crummy Buick.
Benjamin was not a happy-chappie when he saw where Nora his wife had been on the computer. No wonder she spent hours sitting and “just watching a movie”. Movie indeed! Nora had caught the bus to Woodsville, a neighbouring town, to visit an old school friend. An old school friend indeed! That’s not what the emails on the computer said. This Mateo in Woodsville seemed quite a heart throb.
A text arrived on Benjamin’s phone. It was from Nora. She had missed the bus so could he come the several miles and pick her up? She would begin to walk, but it could take several hours.
Off Benjamin went. He picked Nora up and they returned home. Now he had a problem: what to do with the body?
Axel considered variety to be the spice of life. His first three murders were done with a poisonous point of his umbrella. After that he moved onto severing heads with a machete.
Now he was seeking something new; something original and exciting.
He posted a question on social media: What’s a creative way to do a murder? The response was overwhelming. There were hundreds of suggestions. Axel made a list. That should keep him going for quite some time. And there was no need to do the same thing twice, let alone three times.
Meanwhile his wife, Alice, asked on the same media if anyone had a fail-safe recipe for chocolate brownies? Chocolate? Brownies? Alice was banned from social media. She should realize that you can’t get away with blue murder.
Leah wasn’t at all surprised when her husband, Dylan, self-combusted. They had not long finished dinner and were sitting in armchairs watching an old episode of “I Love Lucy”. Leah mentioned that such an episode would never appear on television now because some of the characters were smoking cigarettes. Dylan said “That’s stupid. That makes me really angry” and then he self-combusted.
POOF! and there was left only a little pile of ash on the armchair. Leah had a difficult time explaining to the police exactly what had happened. Police Officer Plod said he thought self-combustion was a little bit unusual. In fact in his thirty-five years in the police force he’d never encountered it before. Leah looked at the little pile of ash on the armchair. She couldn’t believe it.
“It was like one of those electric car batteries in Florida that got wet and exploded,” said Leah. But Police Officer Plod didn’t have a clue what she was talking about because he never watched the News. “The electric car batteries got wet in the hurricane and exploded,” said Leah before realizing that her analogy wasn’t really helpful, and besides, Dylan’s self-combustion wasn’t anything like a 15 to 20 thousand dollar electric car battery exploding in the wet. “What are we meant to do with these ashes?” bemoaned Leah.
Police Officer Plod got a dustpan and brush. “Look Leah, we usually cannot ignore the fact that a husband has disappeared. I’m going to make an exception. In this case we shall simply sweep it under the carpet.”
The next day Leah and Police Officer Plod got married.
Mr. Thomas Bonnington had the reputation of being the most boring teacher in the school – and he knew it. He taught Chemistry. You knew that the pupils who were yawning in his class were the few who weren’t asleep.
It came as a great relief to the class – and to Mr. Bonnington – when Sebastian Wyatt put his hand up in the air and asked, “What is the most efficient and undetectable chemical to use in a murder?”
The class woke up. Mr. Thomas Bonnington was pleased that at last someone had expressed an interest in Chemistry. In fact, he spent the whole class on it in considerable detail. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to teach a class that was alert. May he rest in peace.
Ethan lived a quiet life. He was retired now, but had worked as a grocery deliverer for the last eight years of his working life. It was for a huge grocery chain. People would place their orders online, and Ethan would take the orders, wheel a trolley around the shop gathering what had been ordered, and then drive with the goods to the buyer’s place for delivery and payment.
The job had suited Ethan down to the ground. He wasn’t the gregarious type, but a few cheerful words when delivering the goods was all he needed to brighten his day.
These days he potters in his garden and does some water colour painting. Enthusiasm rather than talent might be the better word to use for his painting skills. He continued to live his quiet life and then suddenly, as if out of nowhere, there was a murder in the street. His very street! It wasn’t an ordinary murder; the victim had been hacked to pieces by some sharp object – a knife perhaps or a machete. It was enough to make ones hair stand on end. Ethan didn’t know what to do. He went back to his gardening to take his mind off things.
But first he cleaned the sickle and put it back on its shelf.
The most annoying thing for Charlie was that he botched things up when he tried to murder his wife, Maria. The mallet intended for her cranium mis-hit and caused serious, but not terminal, concussion. Charlie was arrested and put in prison.
Meanwhile, fully-recovered Maria concocted things so that Charlie didn’t know where she was. “This is great,” thought Charlie. “I’ll be a free man once I am a free man.” In the seven years that had elapsed Maria had found herself another partner and they had moved far away to another part of the country altogether.
When Charlie was eventually released the first thing he did was marry the woman who had been visiting him regularly on behalf of the Saint Vincent de Paul Society. This was the moment Maria had been waiting for.
She accused him of bigamy. It didn’t stick. No one these days cared too much about that. The only repercussion was that Charlie now knew where Maria lived. This time the mallet didn’t miss its mark.
It can get quite confusing doing a murder. No doubt some of the readers of this story will know what I’m talking about. Exactly which glass did I poison? Which is the handgun with the special bullet I had made out of the wedding ring? I especially sharpened the carving knife and now I’m not sure which one it was.
Melody had planned the murder of her husband in great detail. When husband Jack came out to his garden shed – he called it his “Man Den” – she would be behind the door and slash him to death with a machete. It would be (she would tell the judge) completely unplanned and in self-defence. “Spontaneous” is the word.
Jack came out to his Man Den immediately upon coming home from work. Melody went out ten minutes prior to that and waited behind the door. It was summer. It was still daylight. Melody could see the calendar pictures of scantily clad women hanging on the walls of his Man Den. It strengthened Melody’s resolve. Why he needed to still have the photo of February 2011 pinned there was anyone’s guess. Melody shivered. Ugh.
Melody heard Jack approach. He entered. She slashed wildly. There was blood everywhere; the February 2011 Calendar Girl was rightly splattered. The hacked body lay on the floor at the door. The deed was done!
Only it was the neighbour who came on Thursdays to mow the lawn.
About once a week Maureen would visit her elderly aunt who lived a good hour away. Having travelled the road so many times Maureen got to know the short cuts. For example, if she took a back-country road she could knock maybe ten minutes off the time. It was a lonely road, and Maureen wondered why more people didn’t use it. She wasn’t going to announce it too loudly; such things are best kept unpopular.
Last Thursday Maureen took the country short-cut as usual. She must have been on that road for maybe fifteen minutes. Rather suddenly her car stopped. She was in the middle of nowhere. Should she lock the car and start walking, or should she wait and hope perchance a kind person might come along. She decided to wait.
Fairly soon a car approached but it didn’t stop. About an hour and a half later another vehicle approached. It stopped. Did she need help? Can we take you to the nearest town?
What a lovely couple! Quite young, maybe in their early thirties. Almost instantly Maureen felt as if she had known them all her life. Delightful!
“How do you find the electric car? they asked.
“Never again!” exclaimed Maureen. “Look at me now! I shall never get another electric car in my life!”
And indeed she didn’t ever get another electric car. In fact, this was the last time Maureen was ever seen alive.