The lady on the pathway was wondering about murdering her husband. Who was I to judge? I took a practical position and advised of the great danger of being caught, no matter how well planned. I referred to the recent case in England where an 89-year-old man was charged with murdering his wife almost 40 year previously. Her remains were discovered in 2019.
“The lady on the pathway” was moved to pity... for him! “What’s the point?” she asked, “he’s 89”.
I was reminded of my late father. Meeting one of his favourite verbal sparring partners in the graveyard at a funeral, he asked him, “Kenny, what age are you?” To which the reply was “…85.” My father told him “It’s not worth your while going home!”
Trying a possibly less piteous example, I told the lady on the pathway about that case of the woman in America who had written about “How to Murder Your Husband”, which I advised her not to read. “Why?” she asked. “Because she was convicted of murdering her husband last May,” I told her.
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The lady on the pathway assured me she had written nothing on those lines. “But you’re talking to me about it,” I said. That was foolish, I realized as soon as I said it. “Don’t worry,” she said, as if reading my thoughts, “I don’t know you, or how to find you.” It was true.
We met while rushing in the same direction through a small park. Almost in lockstep, she turned to me out of the blue and said, “No one should have to work inside on a day like this.” The sun had made a rare guest appearance and she was heading back to her office after lunchtime. As though we were ‘auld acquaintance, she continued: “I’m just back from a terrific cruise with the husband. Our 40th anniversary.”
That was when she confided: “It was great but I think I’ll kill him.” They had been all over the Caribbean. I suggested they should try Cuba, “wonderful people, great music”. She was impressed. “He’d [husband] love that. He’s mad about politics too. I don’t think I’ll murder him this time,” she said. “Besides, he paid for the cruise.”
Never saw her since.
Murder, from Anglo-French murdre, Old French mordre, for “unlawful killing of a person”.
