How To Mess Up A Murder

⚠️ Mentions of murder ⚠️

Eleanor didn't love her husband; Had never loved him. In fact, she had only married him for his money. But many women have done that without wanting to kill their husbands.

From the day they had married, 4 years ago, his little mannerisms, inconsistencies, annoyances that, had she loved him, she would have doubtless overlooked, got on her nerves. His habit of never getting up before midday, then becoming annoyed when his breakfast was cold although he knew she always made it at 10:30 on the dot, his quick speech that he never bothered to slow down enough to be understood, his constant relapses into day-dreams when she was trying to tell him something, irritated her terribly.

Our story begins with a car drive to a holiday by the sea, just the two of them.

"We'll have a nice bonding holiday, won't we El?" said Eleanor's husband from the passengers seat.

"Yes, darling," replied Eleanor, managing to smile while keeping her eyes on the road.

"It'll be a welcome break, just you and me, after Aunt Margaret, won't it, El ?" he continued, not knowing how his characteristic repetition was annoying his wife. Aunt Margaret was another grudge that Eleanor secretly held against him, his old aunt that often visited and often spontaneously decided to lodge with them for a day or the which often meant a few weeks, and on this occasion had meant a month.

"Yes, darling ," repeated Eleanor. Won't he be quiet?

But at last they were at the house, a small 3-bedroom affair overlooking a beach of pale sand. It was called simply 'Seaside View'.

As Eleanor unpacked the car, she took out a key from her trouser pocket and inserted into the lock of a small box that she had packed. The contents was safe.

Eleanor busied herself with unpacking and tidying, and the first hour at 'Seaside View' was over.

"How about a walk on the beach together?" Her husband had entered. "No, don't try to make yourself look busy, " he said playfully, "That wasn't a question, it was a command. A woman ought to please her husband you know."

"I suppose the opposite is impossible?" said Eleanor, letting down her 'loving wife' façade momentarily. He didn't seem to notice that she had spoken, and half an hour later they were on the beach.

They walked in silence, he too blissfully happy to speak, she contemplating his funeral speech. Eleanor had decided that she couldn't put up with him anymore. To leave him was to leave his money, and as a good Catholic woman divorce was unthinkable.

There was one alternative, and she had the sleeping pills ready.

"The sea just glitters with promise, doesn't it El?" said her husband breathlessly.

"It does." For once, the words Eleanor spoke to him were true. To her, the white shine of water along the horizon whispered of a better future.

When they returned to Seaside View, it had grown almost dark. The sun pecked tentatively over the horizon, then seemed to decide not to show itself, sinking, taking with it the last remaining light.

The evening passed quietly, and as Eleanor's husband forgot (for the first time since they had married) to ask for his nighttime tea, she thought it best to wait until the next night. She could wait just one more day to be free.

The morning routine was the same as always. As always, Eleanor woke up and made breakfast at 10:30 exactly. As always, her husband woke up past noon and complained that his breakfast was "too cold. As always, she took it with a smile and a playful "Well, you silly goose, it would've been hot if you'd got up earlier, wouldn't it?" biting back the words she desperately wanted to say.

The day was uneventful, but as dusk drew nearer there came a knock on the door. Eleanor's husband leapt up with uncharacteristic swiftness and ran to open it. Eleanor stayed where she was, for once the day-dreamer.

"Good evening," said a soft, silvery voice, "I'm sorry but I'm afraid I'm lost. Could you please tell me the directions to the nearest town?"

Eleanor got up and went to the door , as her husband was oddly silent .

Just outside stood a woman of about Eleanor's age, 26. She was small, and remarkably pretty in a elven way. Her eyes were beautifully shaped and leafy green, and her hair was light blonde, almost white. She was blushing.

It was perhaps just as well that Eleanor didn't love her husband, for if she had, the expression she saw in his eyes as she pushed him aside would've made her madly jealous of this strange fairy-like creature. As it was, she was merely annoyed at his inaction.

"I'm afraid it's rather a long way," she said dryly, "But I can give you directions if you want." She proceeded to give them, but she had hardly began before her husband interrupted.

"El you can't make her walk that now! It's getting dark, she'll lose her way, we have a spare bed, they'll be no harm in her taking it for the night," he said quickly. All ideas of a quiet holiday, just he and his wife, had vanished from his mind.

"Very well." Outwardly smiling. Inwardly seething. She would have to wait another night.

Their visitor was profusely grateful, thanking them again and again. Eleanor's husband asked for her name. Martha. The two sat and talked - or rather Martha talked, for Eleanor's husband seemed struck dumb - for hours. Eleanor decided to go to bed early that night; There was no reason to stay up.

Her husband again forgot his nighttime tea.

The next day was sunny and beautiful, with a light breeze. Martha asked the couple if they would go on a walk with her. Eleanor excused herself, saying she had a headache, and her husband and Martha walked without her.

Eleanor was pleased with the peace, planning, and the other two were even more pleased.

Martha ran along the beach, twisting and laughing like a small girl, and her companion watched her, noticing the way her hair caught the sun as it whipped around her, the look in her eyes as she laughed, and thinking her very lovely indeed. She caught his eye and immediately stopped, dead still, her face gradually growing redder and redder.

They walked back to Seaside View subdued and quiet. Martha walked slowly silently, and despite himself Eleanor's husband walked close to her. He wished he could just drift into dreamland as he often did, but found it impossible with the elven beauty beside him.

When they returned, they found Eleanor sitting in the same position as she had when they left. She had been thinking hard, and decided that it was tonight or not at all. There was no question now of Martha leaving, and she knew that she was not likely to get rid of her even after their holiday .

"I'd like a tea , Eleanor. No caffeine, please, " her husband said that night, as he had almost every night for the past 4 years.

Eleanor nodded. "Would you like one, Martha?" she asked. Martha said softly that she would, thank you.

Eleanor walked into the kitchen and prepared the teas. She could hear no noise from the other room, and she wondered what they were doing.

She went to her bedroom and found the box that and held the sleeping tablets, then picked them returned to the kitchen with soft steps, pouring the entire contents of the box into one cup of tea. Finally I'll be free of him.

She paused. Perhaps she should to the other go room and ask Martha if she wanted sugar. She would say something to her husband, something a kind and loving wife would. He wouldn't suspect.

Eleanor opened the door of the room, and for a moment she stared. Her husband stood with Martha, his mouth and nose hidden by her hair. They had their eyes closed, locked in each others arms.

Eleanor shut the door quietly and returned to the two tea cups. This would interfere with her plan. She looked at the one she had put the tablets in. Then she picked them up and put them by the beds, getting into her own. She didn't sleep that night, thinking .

The next morning, her and her husband got up together, and she realised that something was wrong. 

Martha didn't get up that day. Or any day after that.

Eleanor's husband grieved, not bothering to hide it . Eleanor was upset, and that at least needed no acting . Both were quiet , as if they were scared of speaking.

Only on the last day of their holiday did they try to make any sense out of Martha's death.

"Heart attack," said Eleanor's husband shortly. He was more awake now than he had been since they had married, never day-dreaming anymore. Another thing that had gone wrong.

Eleanor nodded. She was calm, almost unnaturally so.

But that night she couldn't get to sleep. It wasn't meant to happen like this, she thought, tossing and turning in her bed. He wasn't meant to be like this. He was meant to forget.