Maxine died. I can’t believe what I’ve just heard. I just got off the phone with Sarah. She says that the big woman is dead. We were talking only yesterday. Maxine never said she was going out with her camera. She was supposed to be at home all night long.
It’s typical though — and it explains why she was so nice to me. She pumped me for information and listened to everything I said — so uncharacteristic for her to be that patient.
That bloated, ungrateful and frequently belligerent bitch, defied her natural ways for once. But then she did something totally foolish with the information I gave her. She went outside during last night’s storm without thinking of the consequences. I told her to be careful. No, she never listens.
She’s always doing idiotic things like that. This time, it’s had a fatal outcome. She’s accidentally hanged herself right beside the Story Bridge. What a stupid thing to do! Oh, Maxine! You stupid moron!
I shouldn’t speak about her like that, after all, Maxine died in tragic circumstances. She’s worth more than name-calling. Everyone is. When someone leaves this world, even enemies deserve respect. Okay, she wasn’t actually an enemy, just an acquaintance — more like a pain in-my-ass who’s in my line of work. She often turned up at social events to get drunk and harass people.
She heard that my spare time was taken up trying to get the best lightning photo of all and called me about it. She wanted to know more. I suppose she thought she could become a lightning photographer overnight. Why try? Weddings are her speciality, not storms. She did yet another irresponsible thing, and it didn’t work out this time. She died due to her boneheaded stupidity!
Sure, she was due some karma, but not something as dire as this! No one should go that way — and to do it so public, too.
Yes, I think you’re a tactless, classless human being, Maxine, but you’re not an imbecile. Why would you think to scramble across the top of a cliff in the pouring rain, for God’s sake? What was the point? There was another way to get to the right angle without all the danger.
But there’s no telling Fat Maxine what to do. If she gets a crazy idea in her head, she won’t let it go. If wine’s involved, it’ll only encourage her to try harder. She’ll defy everyone to make a point. But how did she get past that fence? She’s too obese and unhealthy to climb it. Top-class athletes would find it difficult to climb on a dry day. I don’t get it.
Police said that she crossed to the other side and then slipped in the mud. She fell a little way down the cliff-face when an exposed tree root caught hold of her camera strap. She was barely a few feet down when she suddenly stopped. She just dangled there until she passed. Some guy on the bridge saw her body when he was out for his morning jog. It was a shocking discovery, I’m sure.
What I don’t get is how the camera strap came to be around her neck in the first place. If she was using her tripod, she wouldn’t have had it around her neck at all. It’d be screwed to the top of the tripod.
Farewell Maxine. I know it’ll be a much quieter world without you and your drunken rants.
Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer who specializes in taking pictures of lightning may be the only witness.