Fit to Die by Joan Boswell

Author:Joan Boswell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459716940
Publisher: Dundurn

A BRISK SITDOWN

Here lies Joe “Couch-Potato” Howard,

A push-up, sit-up, jogging coward

Who never went to the local gym

That kept wife Janis so nice and slim.

Janis caught Joe with a neighbour’s wife

And Joe—in panic—exorcised his life.

Joe jumped through the window one second before

He remembered they lived on the sixteenth floor.

JOY HEWITT MANN

A MATTER OF THE HEART

DAY’S LEE

Our reputation is ruined!” Mrs. Tan’s heavy body sank into the worn sofa cushions. She clutched wet tissues in one hand and a package of fresh ones in the other. Granny listened sympathetically. Dressed in a rose print blouse and navy pants, her petite body was almost lost in the armchair’s pink and blue floral pattern. Her face, still clear and smooth at the age of sixty-six, registered shock. But Jenny Leung knew she was not surprised to hear the Widow Woo was involved.

“Mr. Lau, the owner of the Phoenix Noodle Company, has accused my husband of fraud!” sobbed Mrs. Tan. “He claims we owe him two hundred dollars, but we have not ordered anything from him for over a month.”

“Not a lot of money,” Granny murmured, “but enough to cast suspicion.”

“And it was only a month ago, during a mah jong game at the community business social, when my good husband discovered the Widow Woo had extra tiles hidden in her pocket.” Mrs. Tan’s voice wavered.

“Isn’t Mrs. Woo the bookkeeper for the Phoenix Noodle Company?” Jenny asked.

Granny nodded.

Mrs. Tan wailed louder.

Jenny poured tea and listened to Mrs. Tan’s hysterical intonations as she told her tale in Cantonese. Jenny was glad she had decided to come that Saturday morning for her grandmother’s lesson on how to make pork buns. Mrs. Tan’s stories of the goings-on in Chinatown were better than fiction. The aroma of freshly baked buns and roast pork were filling the house as Mrs. Tan rang the doorbell.

Mrs. Tan inclined her head and accepted the teacup from Jenny with both hands, but refused her offer of a bun.

“She did it. That woman is poison!” The distraught woman exclaimed between sips of the fragrant brew. She hiccuped and patted her ample bosom.

“Mrs. Woo is a bad gossip,” Granny said. “People will learn to ignore her.”

“It is her weapon of choice,” sobbed Mrs. Tan. She dabbed her brown eyes with a tissue and placed it on top of the little pile accumulating on her side of the coffee table. “It leaves no visible marks, but in her hands, gossip is as deadly as a sharp knife.”

“It is just talk.” Granny was always the voice of common sense.

“But she does more than talk,” Mrs. Tan gulped. A lone tear followed the worn path around her plump cheeks, down to the corner of her mouth and splattered on her green polyester dress. “Nobody can prove it, but wherever there is trouble she is close by.” Anger gleamed in her eyes. “She arrived from Toronto only a year ago and has already proven herself a meddler of the worst kind. And what decent woman her age wears so much make-up?”

“Her lies are evidence of her character,” said Granny.

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