Who the Hell Is Nadia?

It was time to escort Martin "Insanity" Sanz, AKA "The Daybreak Killer" from the visitor's room back to his cell for his last meal before execution. He had been convicted of multiple murders, each occurring around the break of dawn, involving switchblades and baseball bats. He pled self-defense to each one. He worked as a car repossessor and owners did not appreciate losing their cars, and sometimes they would get nasty. So he would have to fight back any way he could. Sometimes, they would lose the fight, he would argue. But the jury didn't buy that, especially after hearing the testimony of the nephew of an elderly victim, who said his uncle didn't own a car, and never drove a day in his life. However, execution would not be necessary since he was already dead in the arms of a woman who was beautifully dressed with perfect makeup who was also dead. Powdered white oleander was dusted across the faces of each of the pair, apparently the cause of their deaths. In the woman's designer purse was an MP3 with dual headphones which had played Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart", seemingly strategically stopped after "Forever's gonna start tonight". Perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the prisoner's greasy, unkempt locks of hair, seemingly almost possessively. A check of the visitor's list showed her to be one Nadia Webber Sanz, and she had been there before multiple times. Guards had always speculated that she was a distant relative, an attorney, or, perhaps, some odd therapist or spiritual advisor. But here she was at this time in an intimate embrace with this man. She had to have been his wife. Who would marry such a man, especially when she was so beautiful and poised, herself, and, apparently, join him in suicide? Rather nauseating, people felt. Curiosity spread throughout the correctional facility, as well as its surrounding small town, as to exactly who Nadia was. Only when the topic had been buzzed about long enough, the townspeople being both frustrated with not getting answers, and starting to get bored, changed the question to"Who the Hell is Nadia?".

Alfred Larson gave the counter at the employees' canteen of the penitentiary, a final wipe, and sighed. Deep down, he felt we was made for something much less mundane than providing food services to government facilities. He was really meant to be a detective or a journalist of some sort, to do investigations. This would be his first endeavor. Looking up public records, he found that Martin Sanz had not been Nadia's first husband. She had previously been married to one Daniel Webber, a local burial insurance broker. At least that was what a local services directory revealed. "What a macabre woman", he thought to himself. Then he thought he ought to make an appointment, or, at least, stop by. You never know when you're going to go, he thought to himself.

Stepping inside the the storefront, Larson encountered a large man with a rather jolly demeanor. It turned out he was in the full-service insurance business. Burial was just one offering. "My condolences on the passing of your ex-wife," Larson ventured, hoping to sound tactful and with an appropriate approach. "Which one?," Webber replied. "I have three". Larson reminded him of the suicide, and asked if she had a particularly morbid streak, considering the business he was in. Webber replied, "I was just in real estate back then. Then the market took a downturn, and I moved into insurance. She was history then. Took me to the cleaners just like my first ex did." "Nothing unusual about that, UNFORTUNATELY," Webber snorted bitterly. "But you're listed under 'Burial'", Larson queried gently. ,"I'm the only agent in town who offers that in addition to everything else. My admin thought it would make my ad stand out, but she should have listed the other policies in the ad. Blast it." "Look, you know who could use a sympathy card, it's that Cheryl Vidner who works at the Perky Owl down the street. Her cousin. I bet she's the one who really got her going with the divorce lawyers.". Webber handed Larson a pile of brochures and guided him to the door.

Larson, quite pleased with his ability to get this tip, strolled happily down to the Perky Owl Bookstore and Cafe'. Remembering to change his demeanor, he offered his condolences to its manager. Ms. Vidner thanked him, but said she was expecting it. "Expecting it?", exclaimed Larson. "Yes," she replied. "She had ovarian cancer, but she didn't want to die alone, or in some impersonal healthcare facility. She wanted to experience romantic love again, even though her ex hurt her with all his cheating. So she responded to ads from prisoners. That's how she met Martin Sanz." "But why didn't she go for someone ni-" "Nice and normal", Cheryl cut in. "Exactly", he replied. "Because 'normal' wouldn't want her and 'nice' doesn't deserve someone so depressing she felt. She felt she would in a way be teaching a hard hearted man empathy and give him a conscience, if she got involved with a criminal. Only there was a good chance Martin was innocent." Larson gave her a look of shock . She continued, "Oh, I know the story about the uncle who never drove, but his nephew drove a Toyota Camry he didn't appreciate losing, and cursed at Martin, saying he would pay for that. Meanwhile there was every reason to believe that a gang of transient meth users committed the murder".

"Didn't he try to appeal?," "Yes, he did but he found nothing but incompetence among the lawyers he was seeing, and the doctors kept telling Nadia she should go to hospice care. So they planned to die together, in each other's arms."

"So could it be that the man everyone thinks is so evil gave up whatever chance he had at living, so his terminally ill wife wouldn't have to die alone,?"

"Could be," she said.