Postcard #1
The second time the waiter spilled soup in Archibald’s lap, he ended up with bouillabaisse stains on his pinstripes. The waiter—he’d better succeed next time—was positively abject with apologies. I plan to wear yellow to Archibald’s funeral before I leave for Paris. See you soon, my dearest.
Postcard #2
Well, mum, you were right. Why didn’t I see it as clearly as you did? Had to trip the blundering fool twice. If she could pay him, I can pay him more. Tonight, I think. Then I’ll be home for a good long rest. After her funeral.
Fran Stewart
Atlanta Branch, GA
How this story came about? I was leafing through “Deadly Doses: a Writer’s Guide to Poisons” and got to wondering about disguising a deadly dose in some sort of soup. As soon as bouillabaisse came to mind, I had the beginning of a terribly continental mystery. I do wonder about Archibald’s mum and her insights, don’t you?
Yes, I do wonder! Could be a complex relationship. Who is the “real” villain is left wonderfully ambiguous.
Very Funny! If only people spoke to each other instead of plotting against each other!
Or if people only REALLY wrote letters and postcard instead of emails!!
What a novel idea! Writing letters and/or postcards???
My thoughts, exactly.
Whenever I travel, I write a story to my grandchildren on fifteen or twenty postcards. Naturally, I don’t number them, so they have to read the postcards aloud and figure out the order of the story. Great fun, for them and for me.
What a great idea!!! Maybe our next blog project can be a continuing story….
But if they did, what would those of us who write murder mysteries do for a living? Nobody would believe our stories!