The Dark Willow

“I read a story about this woman who was marrying men for their money then killing them,” Mom said.

“In yesterday’s newspaper?” I asked as I spread onion and chive cream cheese onto Bill’s breakfast bagel.

“No, it was a while ago.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to get a few more details.  “Did it happen here in Sun City?”

“I don’t think so,” she said.  “I think it might have been in a foreign country.  They called her the dark willow and that doesn’t sound like an American name.”

Dark Willow, dark willow, I muttered to myself for a few moments before I asked “Do you mean Black Widow?”

“No, I don’t think she was black.  I think she was white.  Maybe English,” Mom said, returning her attention to the crossword.  “Or maybe it was in one of my Kindle books.  By the way, do you know a seven letter word for invented story?  It starts with an ‘f’.”

“No,” I muttered as I left the room.  “But I know a four-letter one!”


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