Maxine has died. I can’t believe what I’ve heard. I just got off the phone with Sarah. She says that the big woman died during the night. We were talking to each other only yesterday. Maxine never said she was going out with her camera. She was supposed to stay at home and watch TV.
It’s typical — and this explains why she was so sickly sweet to me when we spoke. She pumped me for information and listened to everything I said — so uncharacteristic for her. She was planning to take her camera out into the storm all along.
That bloated, frequently ungrateful and often belligerent bitch, defied her natural instinct and took notice. But then she did something totally foolish with the information I gave her. She went into the storm without thinking of the consequences. I told her to be careful. I tried. I didn’t mean for her to go and do it right away!
She’s always doing idiotic things like that. This time, it’s had a fatal outcome. She hanged herself right beside the Story Bridge. Some kind of weird accident occurred to her while she was taking pictures of the sky. What a dumb thing to do! Oh, Maxine! You stupid moron! Why?
I shouldn’t speak about her like that, after all, Maxine died in tragic circumstances. She’s worth more than name-calling. Everyone is. Even enemies deserve respect. Okay, she wasn’t actually an enemy, just an acquaintance — more like a pain in-my-ass who turned up at social events to get drunk and harass people, people like me. I got sick of her a long time ago.
She heard that my spare time was taken up trying to get the best lightning photo of all and then called me about it. She wanted to know more about the process. I suppose she thought she could become a lightning photographer overnight. Why? Weddings are her speciality, not storms. She did yet another irresponsible thing that didn’t work out. Her boneheaded stupidity has got her killed!
Sure, I felt she was due some karma, everyone did, but not something as dire as this! Death wasn’t on the agenda. No one should go that way — and to do it so publicly, too. That’s just wrong.
Yes, Maxine, I think you’re a tactless, classless human being, but you’re not unworthy. And you’re not a total imbecile. Why would you believe to scramble across the top of a cliff in the pouring rain, for God’s sake? What was the point? What did you hope to achieve?
But there’s no telling Fat Maxine what to do. When 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 just 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. It’s not climbable for a reason!
Police said that she crossed to the other side of it 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. It’d be screwed to the top of her tripod instead.
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 specialising in taking lightning pictures may be the only witness.
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