Three main ingredients – motive, opportunity and time. That’s how criminals were caught. He’d watched all the CSI’s you see. He knew how to go about it and that wouldn’t happen to him.. Just need the MOT! Motive, opportunity and time. He really didn’t have a motive. Not really. He just hated her. How could this happen? They had been so happy when first they married. Eighteen and so in love. I suppose that was a bit young in this day and age. But how could someone change so much in thirty years. Appearance , yes, understandable, although it was a lot more difficult to get his arms around her widening girth. Not that he had any urge to do so. Those urges had long gone. From being a svelte young woman with a flawless complexion and a mass of golden curls, she had now become a caricature of herself. Grossly overweight, greasy countenance and a head of grey string which passed for hair, he hated her. He knew not to judge people by their appearance but it wasn’t just that. Her personality had changed dramatically. She was surly, objectionable and downright rude. He could do nothing right to please her. Oh how he hated her.

Opportunity is what he needed now and he had thought of various options for eradication. Inject poison into her unlimited supply of chocolates, arsenic in her daily gallon of gin. Perhaps an accidental trip down the stairs but then her obesity would save her. She’d just break an arm or leg and he’d end up being her gopher for weeks. His thoughts turned to pets. She must be so lonely in the house all day, all by herself, the poor lady. Yeah Right! Her cronies came round regularly to watch the soaps and scoff all the food in the house. Food that he was working his fingers to the bone to provide. An animal that needed no looking after. No walkies, no toilet training. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t walk to the television to turn it on, kept the remote beside her at all times. No cleaning out of cages, no mopping up of little accidents. Something soft and strokable without infringing on her personal time or interrupting her daily viewing.

Now! When could he introduce the addition to the family? Yeah! Her birthday was coming up, very soon actually. She would be fifty two (round the waist) and of age. Looked about eighty two in his estimation. Anyway the timing would be ideal.

“Elsie, Dearest. I’ve been thinking about your birthday present. Is there anything your little heart desires, My Pet.” Ugh! He cringed at the endearment.

“Yeah! Your head on a plate, you little runt!”

Ignoring this loving reply, Mr. Bickwith persevered.

“How about a wee pet, My Pet? Hmmm!”

“What! A dirty animal. Don’t you think I clean up enough around here.”

“Well,” he started to reply then thought better of it. Calm, calm.

“Something small and cuddly, like yourself My Precious.” God! He was going to be sick any time now, “something that needs no real looking after, Eh?”

“I’d prefer something shiny to go round my neck but whatever. It might be nice to have some intelligent company round here for a change.” And with that caustic remark she returned to “Days of Our Lives.”

“Shiny to go round your neck, Pumpkin. I’ll see what I can do.”

Mr. Bickwith sighed, completely satisfied by the way his plan was coming together. Six weeks until her birthday. Plenty of time for Operation Elsie.

……………………………………..

He’d found the little chap in a pet shop on the High Street. Cedric and he had become quite friendly over the past few weeks. He had to be hidden of course. It was a surprise so Cedric kept Mr. Bickwith company in the shed every evening while Elsie lolled on the sofa watching her soaps. He would wrap little Cedric up in shiny birthday paper, leave little holes where he could breathe of course, then finish off with some colourful satin bows. Mr Bickwith was going to hate parting with him. After all they had been so close for all those weeks. sharing secrets, slimy, slithery secrets. But he was sure Cedric would return. He was a shining specimen of snake, long and not slimy at all. Smooth as silk, sliding over Mr. Bickwith’s shoulders at feeding time. He would fit nicely around Elsie’s shoulders again and again and again. Cedric didn’t know her, you see, so he would be frightened. Would try to hug her too hard, try to get to know her. But he wouldn’t have a chance. And neither would she. The beautiful, pattern-backed jewel would be snug around Elsie’s neck. Just what she wanted really!