IT WASN’T THE BUTLER
By Solveig Hansen
Her book flopped, his didn’t. He gloated to himself and gave her a signed copy, “With All My Love.” She smiled stiffly. When things began to happen to him and he was rushed to the hospital with knife cuts and food poisoning, he never said it point-blank, but he more than suggested that she was behind it. Couldn’t tolerate his success. “If I end up dead, the butler is not the one to blame,” he half-joked. People started to talk ugly about her behind her back, sometimes to her face.
Her death from knife wounds and poisoning was ruled suicide. After the few mourners had left, he gave himself a high-five and wrote another book, called It Wasn’t the Butler.
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