Matricide and suicide. A perfect pairing. Like being cuddled to a warm bosom.
Here’s the house where he gave her forty whacks (or at least one, which apparently sufficed):
“I must end the source of trouble in this house†read the note. Is it that trouble lay with the house itself, in some sort of mock-Amityvilleism? Borne of its pitched roof and sinister spindlework? That’s for the present owners to find out. After which, should they need such, the can rest assured that the Bridge of Death is a short walk from their digs:
