The answer to unhappy marriages 

I sat there in a particular somber mood. I had to admit I was comfortably installed in the club saloon of British Airways waiting for the Barbados flight announcement. My wife had recently died under what the police thought might be suspicious circumstances. All this interest in her death was due to the fact she was a well known London socialite. She came from an extremely wealthy Texas farming family. The family had found sizable oil deposits on their lands. After several weeks of tedious investigation they finally abandoned the case through lack of evidence. It had been a trying time that left me suffering from a short depression followed by moody attitudes. Still a few days in Barbados might put to bed all moods and suspicions, also the polices’ extended dark shadow disturbing my life. Ah! The announcement, gate 15. As is often the case the call to gate was just call a little early for immediate boarding I took a seat mumbling about I could have stayed a few more comfortable minutes seated in the airline’s club

The man seated next to me must have heard my mumblings, he said. “What did you say?”

“I was just moaning about being called to early from the club’s privilege of traveling first class.” With that remark I turned and looked at my fellow passenger. He had a jovial face with a deep scar under his left eye. It gave him a rakish look as though he had been in a fencing duel. His slick dark black hair was swept back from his forehead. Woman must have thought him a distinguished individual. He extended his hand in a sign of friendship.

“I know what you mean, I have experienced that annoyance a few times. My name is Clive Summerfield.”

I replied by introducing myself. “Richard Davenport.“

“Just a minute aren’t you the Davenport the papers were talking about two weeks ago? There was a scandal about your wife’s death.

“Yes, that's me. I am off to the sun of the Caribbean with its warm waters and golden sands to forget the whole ordeal.

“For your wife, please accept my condolences. If you don’t mind me asking. Where are you staying?”

“The Sandy Lane, and you?”

“I used to stay there but at present I am a bit down on my luck so it’s the Coral Reef. They gave me a discount as I stayed there three weeks ago.”

“I have experienced that life is often a question of luck. One never knows how the cards will fall. I think a little holiday might lift your spirits.” Richard replied.

“Well it isn’t exactly a holiday. I represent an American Company that has just invented a revolutionary type of tooth-brush. It has a revolving head driven by a small battery driven motor inserted in its handle. I could show you one.” He started looking in his bag.

At that moment the first class passengers were called. As I stood up I saw him looking at me from his bended position as he turned towards me. I noticed his eyes reflecting such a wilful look as if to say what a pity you seem a decent sort and I was starting to enjoy your company.

In a moment of extending my friendship I said “Why don’t you come and have a drink with me tomorrow at the Sandy Lane at say, 6 o’clock.”

“Love to, have a pleasant flight.”

After a relaxing night I went for an early morning swim. The Sandy Lane is truly the epitome of luxury. The gardens down to the beach were full of delicate and interesting flowers sending off their perfumes in the early morning air. At six my guest walked into the bar. I had not appreciated that he was tall. A powerful looking man with an athletic build. Once he saw me his face light up with an engaging smile.

He came forward with an outstretched hand.

“I see you have taken a little sun, be careful it can be treacherous to our fair English skin. We shook hands. For a minute he stood back to look across the terrace at the flower beds leading to the beach. He then turned to me and said. “It is a truly beautiful place.”

We ordered two gins and tonic and went out on the terrace. I raised a toast. “To the Caribbean, isles of pleasure where worries of yesterday are forgotten. May I call Clive and you call me Richard.”

“With pleasure. Richard, you don’t appear to be a man with many worries?”

“”I might say the same for you.”

Clive replied. “What lucks in the heart of men is difficult to see. I have job worries and marriage problems. To change the subject I read a scandalous press story about you. In some way might have been involved in your wife’s death.”

“Let’s talk about another subject if you don’t mind. I came here to forget about all the rumors stirred up in the press. At the airport you told me something about a tooth-brushes?”

“Yes, I almost forgot I brought you an example. Clive pulled out of his inside breast pocket the famous rotating tooth-brush and handed it over to me. As he did so he said. “It is a company my father-in-law invested in.”

“Its certainly a pleasant object to handle.” I pressed the starter bottom, the bristles started rotating. I could increase the speed, change the angel of the head. “Definitely an ingenious invention.”

“Please accept it as a gift. It is a step down for me to be involved with a tooth-brush company. Until recently I had a most interesting publishing company. It’s a long story but I had to close it. The company was heading, in the not too distant future, for bankruptcy as it needed an influx of funds that were promised but never delivered.

“Tell me a bit more about the publishing company.”

The reason why I got interested in publishing was that I studied English literature at Oxford. When leaving the university my first job was with the publishing house of Harding and Harding. I spent twelve happy years with them. During that time I got married to an ambitious American woman, the only child of a wealthy Texan family. My wife pushed me into creating my own publishing company helped by her father’s financial fortune. The company lasted fifteen years with moderate success relying on occasional loans from my father-in- law. During this period both my wife’s parents died leaving my wife a sizable fortune. She sold most of the inherited assets in America and appointed a New York fund manager to invest the resulting cash. She told me she was no longer interested in supporting my publishing business. She had become a highly sought after member of various charities. I decided to close the company rather than face an uncertain future without the possibility of the family’s financial support when needed. You can imagine our marriage is not in a happy state of affairs. I looked for a job that consisted of traveling that would keep me away from home. My father in law had introduced me to a company he had an investment in that wanted someone to represent them in Central and South America.”

“To me it seems odd that your wife lost interest in supporting your business.”

“Oh! I think there are probably many reasons. One is that she has definitely fallen out of love with me and is probably having affairs with a younger man. She also claims I don’t pay enough attention to her as I am always at work or reading books. Tell me about yourself.”

“I am a partner in a prestigious city law firm. Incidentally I was also at Oxford, but probably a few years before you. Before we started swapping Oxford colleges names and university stories. I will complete the story of my home life by saying we don’t have any children which in our marriage has been a very sore point. Several eminent doctors are of the opinion that my wife could not bear children. And you?”

“Yes, one boy. We are not on very good terms with him after my wife and I had a violent quarrel with him some years ago. I believe he is living in Solo and has taken up an acting career. We see him occasionally when he is out of funds. His mother deals with that

“It’s funny we both went to Oxford and married wealthy women that over the years seemed to have caused us more unhappiness than happiness. But perhaps I am speaking for myself. To be fair in the early years of our marriage we had moments of great happiness”.

“Before you make us depressed let’s have some dinner.”

Maybe it was the moonlit night, or an excellent wine I had ordered, or Clive’s wife’s problems but for some strange reason I felt the need to confide in him.

I learnt forward over the dinning table and in a soft voice said. “I did kill my wife, they just could not find any evidence of how I did it. The moment I said it I regretted it. I had only just met the man, he might go to the police or blackmail me.

Clive stopped eating while I could feel him searching for a way to reply. There was glint in his eyes showing me an idea was forming in his head. At this point he too leaned forward and said. “How brilliant, how did you do it?”

“With a clever use of a special poison. Why do you ask? Surely you are not thinking you could do the same thing?”

“Frankly, I have been vaguely contemplating the possibility of trying to kill her. Tell me, are you willing to give me the poison’s reference. “

“Yes, under certain conditions. Firstly, you appoint me as your lawyer and that any conversations between us will then be protected under law by the clients/lawyers relationship. Secondly, today is the 10th of October, on the same day a year from now we agree to meet here in the bar, at six. You pay for dinner this time.” I called for writing materials and drew up a short agreement for Clive to appoint me as his lawyer. He signed and agreed to a meeting one year later. I gave him the South American reference of the poison that left on tract in the human body after two hours.

When I said good night to Clive in a slightly drunken state, we even embraced each other on parting. That night before I fell asleep I thought how strange this chance meeting with Clive Summerfield had turned out. A couple of men engage in a casual airport conversation both unhappily married to wealthy women, one had already devised a perfect murder the other might be putting his foot down on the same course.

It must have been eight months later that I read in The Times obituaries about the tragic riding accident of a wealthy American socialite Catherine Summerfield. I immediately booked the Sandy Lane for October 9th. I was looking forward to seeing Clive.

Over dinner on the night of the 10th I toasted with an excellent bottle of wine the death of our wives by committing perfect murders. I then suggested we disclose how this was achieved, I said I would start.

“Finding the poison took me over a year. Once found I spent some time planning how I was going to administer it. My wife was very partial to Turkish delights which she kept in a box of her glove compartment in her car. When I saw that the box had only three left I inject one with the poison and waited. The waiting was nerve racking. It took three weeks before I received a call from the police that my wife had been found dead in her car. Why I was involved in a possible murder investigation? Unknown to me she had called a friend after parking her car. Apparently the friend did not pick up but she left a message saying she did not feel well and could she come for her. I think my husband. At that point the line went dead. With her remark, “I think my husband,” made the police suspicious that there might have been foul play as she had left me her large fortune. Also it was well known our marriage was on the rocks. The poison had work like a charm as she was found 4 hours after the time of her death. There was one Turkish delight left in the box. The police opened an investigation as there were many rumors of lovers and unkind speculation about me. They finally closed the case as there was a complete lack of evidence to suggest foul play. She was finally pronounced dead from a massive heart attack. The perfect murder.

Before Clive embarked on his story I noticed he was in a pensive mood contemplating the perfect murder that always has the risk of being discovered.

He awoke for his thoughts and related his story. I contacted your reference for the poison. Like you I had to devise a plan of how to administer it. Our property in the south of England has stables as my wife was an avid horse woman. She has two riding crops, one she always takes with her when riding. It is a work of art given to her by her father. The top of the handle screws off to allow a few drams of whiskey to be drunk while out riding. I mixed the poison with the whiskey and waited. It must have been two weeks later when my wife came back from a trip to America in a foul mood. To calm off she went to the stables to take out her favorite horse. The stable boy advised against it as her horse had not been exercised for a few days. My wife paid no notice of the stable boy’s remarks, and took the horse and her beloved crop. I got a call telling me there had been a tragic riding accident. When I got to the scene a doctor present was already signing her death certificate as a riding accident from a broken neck and serious head damages. Later that day the stable boy gave me her crop. When I opened it I found the whiskey had not been touched.”

“Clive, it could have been the perfect murder but luck was on your side. I suggest we make our reunion a yearly date.”

“Richard, an excellent idea. Next time you pay.”

David Nutt December 2023