Author: roger

(extract from published article) The marshmallow test is a famous psychological experiment that tests children’s willingness to delay gratification. Children are offered a marshmallow, but told that they can have a second marshmallow if they’re willing to wait 15 minutes before eating the first one. Claims that children with the willpower to hold out do much better in life haven’t held up well, but the experiment is still a useful metaphor for many choices in life, both by individuals and by larger groups.

I have no idea how I would have responded to this test as a three year old. I’m guessing, since it seems to me now that I would have interpreted it as some sort of ‘a good person doesn’t pig out’ test combined with a test of ‘do as I was told’ conditioning, I’d probably hold off but there’s another reason, a better reason, a more sound reason why I’m pretty sure I would have shown a high level of restraint: I don’t like marshmallows!¹ On further reading, the children were offered a choice of incentives: marshmallow or pretzel, Again, I would have shown admirable restraint; I can’t stand pretzels either.Not then, not today. I recall trying them burnt around the campfire; what was that all about? Why would a flaming, hot glob with bits of black improve things?² S’mores are today’s advancement on the simple marshmallow: outer graham crackers sandwich a hunk of chocolate and roasted marshmallow. What kid wouldn’t delay gratification for that?Now, had they been ju-jubes …

The original test was done in the late 60s and early 70s and there has been a lot of push back on the hypothesis but why didn’t they ask themselves at the time, ‘do kids like marshmallows?’ before testing temptation? I certainly would have skewed the results.

But I digress.

So now the million dollar question is, taking the hypothesis as sound, have I done better in life?

Hard to measure when you don’t know the scale. Well, one thing, I’ve passed the statistical age when I shouldn’t be kicking around so maybe there’s a healthy reason to leave marshmallows alone.

“So sorry for your loss; and your husband left us far too early.  Any reason for that do you suppose?”

“Well, he was a recreational pole vaulter and did get high on marshmallows.”

And what if I included my marshmallow delayed gratification result from years past in my CV?

“Now Mr. Legon, this demanding EVP position calls for someone who sees what lies ahead, doesn’t jump to conclusions and through patience still gets to enjoy one’s just deserts. What is there in your experience, Mr. Legon, that would show me you’d meet those demands and qualify for this position?”

“I held off eating a marshmallow for 15 minutes.”

“Welcome to the firm.”

So, I’m trying to come up with a test, now that the marshmallow has been let metaphorically to fall off the stick into the fire, that would accomplish what the psychologists had set out to find lo these many years.

We’d all love to know as soon as possible what it would take to be a success in our future calling. What are today’s ‘marshmallow’ tests that we have to face to guarantee our future and get to enjoy the fruits of our labours, so to speak.

This would, of course, eliminate sports. No amount of time waiting on that second marshmallow or today’s equivalent is going to lower my golf score. And I don’t see the correlation between a ‘delaying gratification’ equivalent and noting an ear-popping opera.

No, it would have to be something mere mortals can accomplish a little better than other mere mortals. So let’s work backwards and create the position and its necessary skill set and then create the test that will expose your chance of future accomplishment.

Well, I’m writing. Let’s start there. Everyone can read and write so our hypothetical position calls for the ability to be ‘more competent’ in writing. Let’s start a list of required skills:

• Have an idea (Muses are busy people and they take holidays)
• Able to suffer long periods of time doing nothing (affectionately known as ‘’writer’s block’ but it’s really a sign that you have no imagination
• Ability to imagine success (somebody will buy your book who is not a relative)
• Ability to discard futile ideas (this is almost impossible to do, how do you decide none of them is utile?
• Ability to read (also known as plagiarism, ‘Hey, you’ve got to get your ideas from somewhere, why not an obscure writer?)
• Ability to edit (take preceding point and turn plagiarism into ‘bright new voice.’
• Able to take criticism (why is this here?)
• Believe in yourself (unsuccessful egomaniacs do this all the time)
• Believe rejection is part of the process (also part of accepting, ‘This is garbage.’)
• You personify hope. Failed writers get work as editors (‘I know garbage when I see it.’)

So let’s table these skills with their possible tests:

So, where are we? Well, it doesn’t look like we’ll be able to come up with an ‘all-in-one’ test so why not just start banging away at the keys and see what happens?

I know what works for me, a ju-jube every 15 minutes.

you’re what, nudging eighty? You’re in that 74 to 79 sweep of the dial where the needle reflects your physical condition, never holds steady, always seems to be slipping and moving inexorably into the colour band that indicates you’re borderline never-to-be-like-you-were

But you’re fit as a fiddle, you remonstrate; you take out the garbage with one hand; you can still pound that range ball 210 yards with the wind downhill; still suck in the gut when those young things catch your eye, but you know the day is coming: “I know I can still do that, and I will, but I think I’ll just let it ride for now. Wake me when it’s happy hour.”

The downside to this approach is you’re vulnerable to zingers:

“If you won’t get out of that chair, I’m ordering one with the electric butt lift. And I’ll hide the remote.”

“Your heart’s fine, nobody has ever died doing the dishes.”

“I’m not asking you to go to the gym; just walk to the front porch, bend down and pick up the paper.”

What you want the world to admire is your determination, your moxie, your joie-de-vivre without you actually having to demonstrate your determination, your moxie, your joie-de-vivre.

So what’s an example of showing your real age that you don’t want anyone to witness? How ‘bout, ‘Getting in an out of the car?’

In the young days, you opened the door and put your leg in first, remember? Never needed the steering wheel as a crutch; just left hand on the door sill, settle into your seat and close the door all in one smooth motion.  

Now you improvise. You open the door and typically turn your back to the seat, brace one hand on the steering wheel and with the other, grab the ‘B’ pillar, then let mother gravity take over. Then you have to swing both legs into the car and now you’re faced with closing a door that you can’t reach.

Getting out isn’t a prettier picture. You push open the door and hope it stays open, if it doesn’t, you’re close to losing an arm and a leg. You now take a minute or two getting the rhythm right so the swinging door catches the door stop and stays open; then you swing both legs out the door. Your legs haven’t touched the ground yet so with your left hand grabbing the ‘B’ pillar and your right hand searching for the ‘A’ pillar, on ‘3’ you bounce off the seat to get a bit of levity and then pull yourself forward hoping your feet hit the ground at an angle where they can provide the other 90% of momentum you need to balance yourself upright. You are now facing away from the car, in no position to close the door. You look around to see if anyone has been marvelling at this exercise in embarrassment and then shuffle 180 degrees to face the gaping doorway which lets you observe your cell phone in the centre console pocket.

So, how do you solve this predicament of looking and acting like an old codger before you want to look and act like an old codger?

Laganthorp’s Law¹ When things aren’t going your way, there might be a solution to the rescue. Laganthorp’s Law is a proven mantra that you turn to when all seems hopeless. This anti-age alliteration triggers a chain reaction of old memories that smoothed over challenging situations in the past which you can now draw on to smooth over challenging situations in the present. Remember the times you were gob smacked when witnessing that perfectly timed ‘bon mot’ which saved the situation and prompted you to remark, “Wish I’d thought of that.”? Laganthorp’s Law brings it all back. Laganthorp’s Law googles that vast reservoir of experiences to find the one that triggers your brain to force you to open your mouth and say, “Dear, I’ll get the car and meet you at the front.”

Can’t help but draw the admiring response, “Thank you, what a nice thought.”

But wait, slow down the smirk, the devil in you points out, with evil intent, once you pull up to the front door, “Shouldn’t a man of refinement, like yourself, get out and open the door for one’s spouse?”

Indeed, again you call on Laganthorp’s Law which kicks in and prepares you to welcome the idea of unlocking the passenger door and leaving it a bit ajar before you tackle your own entry. And that snow scraper still in the back seat in July? Just the ticket to push open the passenger door from your seat. The clincher? Before executing this legerdemain, offer to get out of the car and open the door for her. Studies² Soon to be published high school essay have shown that no woman, 0% have ever said, “Sure, I’ll wait.”

Now the savvy, gentler sex sceptic might argue that you’ve rounded down that 0.004 percent to get to 0.00% so somebody in the survey might have actually said, “Sure, I’ll wait,” so you have to be prepared for this.

Once again Laganthorp’s Law saves the day. At your age, leg cramps are as common as the cold. Once she says, “Sure, I’ll wait,” Laganthorp’s Law has your brain tell you to grab your leg, let out a stifled, ‘cramps’ and go into your realistic-cause-you’ve-experienced-it-so-often-in-real-life-it’s-easy-to-imitate spasm and start to leave the car. The difficulty you have actually trying to leave the car looks like severe cramping so she’ll either have to say, “Oh, that’s OK, don’t bother, I know how you feel, I get them all the time,” and open the door herself or wait the four and a half minutes it takes you to get out of the car and shuffle to her side of the car and open her door. This also covers your awkward re-entry into the car. Once behind the wheel, rub your leg for a minute and give her that pained grin with a pseudo-smiley, “Good to go.”

Assuming she’s among the 99.99% who doesn’t say, “Sure, I’ll wait,” and hence hasn’t seen you struggle to get out of the car, to avoid the challenge of showing your age when you hit the mall, drop her off at the entrance to the store and draw on the blessed Laganthorp’s Law face-saving line, “Go ahead, I’ll just park the car, catch up with you later.”

If you’re feeling chuffed, offer to get out and open the door for her. If she says, ‘I’d like that,” or some other insincere test, call on your Laganthorp’s Law cramp routine. (see above)

Oft heard reward of all this? ‘He’s such a gentleman.”

Next week: putting on your socks.

Let’s face it, this COVID-19 thing is giving everyone the willies. One moment you’re breathing fire and the next not breathing at all. You could be gasping for breath and realize that you haven’t put your dying thoughts down on paper. If you don’t, they could say anything about you and the world would miss all the highlights of your life that you want to make sure everyone gets to hear, see, read, file away, search the library of congress for and wonder at. So, as a semi-public service, herewith a pro-forma eulogy (not pro bono, I need the $10.00 to help cover the cost of my flowers) that will make sure you’ve covered all the bases and more importantly, whoever has the honour of pontificating your contribution to society, doesn’t wander off topic. Choices are indicated in the brackets; circle the appropriate response (accuracy is not the issue at this time – one tries to speak well of the dead) and leave this form where the cleaning lady won’t push it through the shredder.

Welcome to this celebration of the life of __________________.  My name is _______________________ and I’m a (A. lifelong friend B. passing  acquaintance C. cell mate or D. paid reader).

Needless to say __________________’s passing was a shock. (He – she ) was in the prime (41¹Included for those who were sensitive about their real age – 30 years sensitive. , 71,73,79,83,89,97,101) of (his – her) life; full of vacuity, specious syllogisms, bibulous blatherings and memorable malapropisms.

This is an emotional time and I understand if you can’t help but (A. weep B. laugh C. nod off or D. check your e-mails).

A brief history for those here today who just came in from the cold and/or for the cold cuts: _____________________ was an exceptional baby, speaking at 3 months, reading at 1 and writing nudge-nudge, wink-wink memorable limericks while self potty-training.

A remarkable mind and a caring soul that didn’t mind if you cared or not, _____________________, at an early age saw where the automobile was heading and not stopping and talked (his – her) (A. father B. mother C. care giver or D. maharishi) into funding a chain of car repair shops that also sold car insurance thus guaranteeing the success of both enterprises and his early retirement.

Rapidly accelerating through public school, _________________ entered high school at the tender age of 10 and was teaching calculus in grade IX while correcting Latin papers when professor Quid wasn’t out on parole. And for what, you may ask?

A superb athlete, __________  bested Olympic standards in such demanding activities as the (A. slow walk B. painfully slow walk with gout C. juggling with two balls or D. celebrating in an obnoxious manner ) and donated a trophy to the school which, in addition to being a permanent recognition of __________ ‘s rare achievement, doubles as a welcome doorstop.

Entering university, ___________was immediately selected to be a Rhodes Scholar for (his – her ) in-depth knowledge of (A. quantum mechanics B. automobile mechanics or C. mechanics who can stop a Pinto from catching fire) and returned home with an honours degree in (A. philosophy B. economics  C. economics as a philosophy or D. economical philosophy).

Sought after by the leading companies in the world including (A. Dollarama B. Popeye’s or C. Joe’s Garage ‘We specialize in Pintos’ ), ______________ went on to receive many recognized accolades including (A. The Noble Prize for spelling B. Mad magazine’s Person of the Year or C. the Key to the town of Mimico).

Before passing, ____________ was working on a memoir with the working title ‘Working on a memoir.’ This preternaturally pretentious autobiography, liberally illustrated with clip art, will be posthumously published on a home printer and made available throughout metro Toronto wherever you can find a Toronto Sun newspaper box. $1.00 per copy or a brace for $5.00, the box has been adapted to accept either Canadian or US currency. What a great opportunity to get rid of those Canadian pennies.

The (A. family B. friends or C. church’s janitorial crew) have asked, instead of (A. suing B. throwing confetti or C. bad mouthing the departed) that you make donations in (A. your  B. your ex’s or C. Donald Trump’s) name to the Lakeview Golf Club which will go towards the purchase of a discontinued St. George’s golf cart to be permanently stationed on the 12^th fairway. The cart is operated by an LCBO motivational speaker to the AA and will help players, who walk the course, get up the 32^o slope to the 12^th green to putt their ball off the green and back down to the fairway.

Thank you, now will you please all stand and join me in the singing a favourite of ______________ ‘s (A. there’ll be peace in the valley B. I go to pieces C. peaceful easy feeling or D. anything by the Grateful Dead).

When ordering the eulogy, please specify skid # 312.B and make the e-transfer to: Birthmark Cards – ‘When you don’t care what you send.

“Welcome to ‘Insider information’, I’m your host, Jim LeGrand, and to-day we welcome Madison Hale as our guest

“Ms. Hale is a detective with the metropolitan police force; thank you for joining us Ms. Hale.”

“Happy to be here.”

“Let’s start with being a detective; what’s involved?”

“Well, not much officially, in Canada you have to be 18 years or older and a Canadian citizen.”

“So there’s no Bachelor of Detecting?”

(Laughing) “No, that would certainly simplify things.”

“Then let’s turn to you; why did you get interested in this profession and what did you do to become a detective?”

“Well this wasn’t my life’s dream, if that’s what you mean. I graduated with a science degree at university and guess I thought I’d end up in research or maybe teach or do graduate work. I was at a bit of a loose end, actually, and then I met my future partner in crime, excuse the pun, Jason, who had specialized in criminology a year before me and I thought if this relationship becomes serious I’d better learn a little bit about what he likes to do so I, too, took criminology courses which pretty well means you’re headed for police work of some kind.”

“Your science background would suggest forensics.”

“Yes, that was a possibility but maybe I was smitten by the imagined glamour of detective work over the behind-the-scenes quiet of the laboratory.”

“What was the next step?”

“Well, Jason was employed by a police force, graduated from their academy program and expressed an interest in detective work and started his career there. I followed roughly the same path. From there it was putting in time, gaining experience and working very hard; it’s a difficult profession. You have to do a lot of research, understand the many disciplines involved in solving crimes and put in long hours. And you have to like to solve problems; decide you think you’re smarter than the bad guys, if you will. I’ve been a detective in the serious crimes division now for thirteen years.”

“Glad you mentioned solving problems. The public probably doesn’t know how successful the police are in this regard. Would you please talk about that?”

“If you go by the television police shows, we solve everything and can pretty well do it in a day (laughing). The reality is somewhat less heady; dramatically less than TV would like you to believe. Depending on where you are in the world, the percentage of cases that go unsolved range anywhere from 40 to 80.”

“What are some of the principal reasons you don’t solve a serious crime?”

“Assuming we’re talking about murder, it varies but motivation is critical. For example, if you, sorry Jim, but if you, on your way home tonight murdered a stranger on the street and let’s assume you two were alone in a no-witness area, it would be practically impossible to link you with the crime.”

“Other factors?”

“Well, missing a body complicates things.”

“But couldn’t you be talking about a missing person?”

“Yes, but a person who’s been missing for a while, whose case has received a thorough exploration of all relevant factors, without a body you can assume the individual is dead and had probably been murdered.”

“What else?”

“Well, I hate to say this, but incompetence can’t be ruled out. We just don’t do a thorough enough job.”

“We won’t dwell on that (smiling) but let’s turn to your experience. Can you relate a case that tested you?”

“First of all, I should explain that there are many professionals involved in trying to understand what happens and I’m not the only detective in most cases. You can get fixated on an approach and it’s necessary to have others challenge your suppositions so you don’t miss key elements that could open things up. The case I brought with me took place a few years back up in cottage country. You may recall it, a couple were found shot in their cabin.”

“Ah yes, the ‘last resort’ case, but I don’t remember the details.”

“An unfortunate play on words. We were called in because there wasn’t a detective division with forensic services locally.”

“Please walk us through it.”

“When you come to the scene of the crime, you try to take in as much as you can that doesn’t seem to directly impact the victims. I look at the surroundings; try to put myself in the killer’s shoes; how did he or she get here? Why here? How come nobody saw anything? How easy would it be to commit the crime?

“Let me interrupt, Jim, and explain I use ‘he’ for consistency and simplicity but everyone should be aware that the guys aren’t the only ones with evil in their hearts. To continue, you finally have to ask yourself, of course, why? Why the killings?

“This case was unusual for me, at least, because I couldn’t determine a motive; nobody seemed to have anything to gain by the killings. When a partner is killed you immediately suspect the other person in the relationship. I’d researched the couple ahead of time and there was nothing to suggest they had enemies. Jackie and Bill Friend were a very ordinary couple living a very ordinary life and spending time at their cabin was a normal summer activity for them. Jackie stayed there most of the summer with Bill driving up on the weekends. They were both killed with a common gun, a Glock 17M, a standard issue used by the provincial police, for example, and there were no signs of forcible entry nor any struggle by the victims. It wasn’t a double homicide and no one in the area had any suspicions.”

“But something obviously caught your attention.”

“A couple of things, actually. First of all, could it be a professional killing? Everything was too neat. An amateur gets sloppy, leaving clues everywhere. And secondly, there was a disparity in their ages. She was mid to late forties but he was at least ten years younger and, as it struck me at the time, quite handsome. He had Hollywood looks while she had let herself go somewhat. Now, that doesn’t mean anything normally, and they’d been married several years, but he travelled a lot and I wondered how faithful he’d been.”

“But they were both killed.”

Yes, that I didn’t understand. Let’s say he was philandering and the wife suspected something and had him killed. Then why was she shot?”

“Then what happened?”

“Well, not much, this is where the TV and the real worlds part. In most TV plots the phone rings or somebody finds a note hidden in the freezer that leads to the killer but we didn’t have any of that luck. We’d hit a dead end (no pun), so we started to put together a picture of the husband’s life.

“Bill Friend was a successful IT consultant with clients around the country necessitating his travelling. His travels also took him to conventions and I decided to start there; who attended these conventions?”

“Why did you start there, why not with the clients?”

“For practical reasons, there were a lot of clients and I was still on this philandering approach and conventions, so the saying goes, if you believe the Las Vegas ads, you get to meet people at conventions that you can leave at these conventions; clients are a little more circumspect. So we contacted his company and got the list of conventions he’d attended in the last five years and from the conventions, got the list of attendees.”

“Why five years?”

“We were looking for attendees who kept showing up at these conventions. In other words, were these the rendezvous points?”

“But wouldn’t the same names show up often?”

“Indeed, but then the detective work kicks in. And the numbers drop quite a bit when you’re looking for women. And we were looking for attractive, single women in their thirties that lived here.

“We narrowed the search down to three possible suspects: Carol Bell, Samantha Adams and Rosanne Dewitt.”

“Sorry, but I have to come back to this, why would the femme fatale, who, say, wants to knock off the wife to get the husband, kill the husband?”

“Good question, you have a future after television.”

“But, not to get ahead of ourselves, we had to break down the background of the three suspects. All three were single, attractive, knew Bill, successful professionals who lived in the city and were linked in various capacities to the IT industry. And most unfortunately, none of them were solid suspects to do the killing.”

“So this supports your theory of a professional killer.”

“Yes, one of them would have had to engage someone to kill Bill or Jackie Friend.”

“So, how do you engage a professional killer?”

“Good question and the answer is, ‘Not easily. They don’t staple their resumés to telephone poles.

“But this helped us; who would have the possible connections to hire a killer? We now looked more deeply into their backgrounds so we brought them all in for questioning.

All three admitted that they’d had an affair with Bill and all three were shocked at his death. We decided they weren’t acting; they were truly emotionally upset so that ruled them out initially, in our mind, as the killer.

“Carol Bell, one of the suspects, had a grandfather who fought in the second world war. Sepp Krafft was captured by the British and turned to act as a double agent. This would give her a plausible link to a professional hit man.

“Samantha Adams only met Bill at the conventions that were held in Las Vegas. Las Vegas, as you can imagine, or know, has a lot of acts with skilled performers and marksmen are a popular act so Samantha could have easily made friends with someone who could handle firearms.

“Rosanne DeWitt, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any obvious connections with a professional hit man. We drew a blank with her as a suspect.”

“But you solved the case.”

(smiling) “Again, I have to explain that luck enters into it. I believe it was Louis Pasteur who said, ‘Chance favors the prepared mind.’ So, I dragged Jason into this and we tried to re-enact the crime.

“If we were right and it was a crime of passion, and one of the women wanted to get rid of Jackie and have Bill to herself, then the hit man was to kill Jackie, not Bill. So let’s assume that’s what happened, during the week, when Jackie was alone at the cabin, the hit man killed Jackie. Done. But, you may well ask, ‘what about Bill?’

“And Jason had an idea, someone wanted to kill Bill, not Jackie. There was a woman scorned. Only a man would figure that angle. So, when Bill went up on the weekend, the hit man killed him.”

“You mean there were two hit killings? Unbelievable.”

“Not so fast. Logically it would take incredible co-operation and luck between two hit men to pull this off but the idea that there were two distinct murders was compelling.

“We started with Samantha.

“We broke down each of her visits to Las Vegas to see if there were any events that could suggest a tie to a shooter. There were no stage shows but there was a major gun show during one of her visits. Las Vegas is an attractive destination if you’re interested in firearms. Las Vegas and the state of Nevada are, to put it politely, gun crazy. There are gun shows held regularly, a gazillion shooting ranges and, by our standards, lax guns laws: you do not need a permit to buy a gun, rifle or shotgun in Nevada; you do not need a permit to possess a rifle, gun or shotgun in Nevada; semi-automatic guns are legal in Nevada as are fully automatic guns.

“We sent an undercover team to Las Vegas to attend one of the larger gun shows to determine if it would be possible to hire someone. The quick answer is, ‘yes,’ but it’s a qualified, ‘yes’. People are naturally suspicious and reluctant to be open about such an idea, even when a lot of money is involved. But the team came away with an idea of what it would take to hire a hit man; close to $US 100,000. So that gave us the idea to see how financially well off Samantha was and issued a summons to seize her financial records.

“Samantha was financially sound but neither had the cash nor assets to liquidate nor family connections to cover the sums involved. And we assumed it would be a challenge for her to get a loan and disguise its purpose. That would leave a loan shark which we dismissed so we cooled on Samantha as a strong suspect.

“Unless Rosanna DeWitt was the killer, herself, we had pretty well ruled her out based on her background checks so we focused on Carol Bell.

“We felt confident Carol was somehow involved because of her grandfather and her phone calls to him around that time so we arrested her on suspicion of conspiracy to murder. In Canada the Crown needs only prove that there was a meeting of the minds with regard to a common design to do something unlawful.

“We felt we had enough circumstantial evidence and we also wanted to put pressure on her.

“Jumping ahead, after several interrogations where we presented witness’s testimony that confirmed Carol’s almost blind infatuation with Bill followed by details of her phone conversations with her grandfather, under advisement of her lawyer, Carol confessed to conspiracy. I’ll read from her testimony:”

My grandfather, who’s still alive at 94, never lost contact with his war time comrades so when I went to him with my plan he reluctantly agreed to give me a name, Walther Model, a person, he said, who had saved his life during the war and that’s the person I contacted to have Jackie Friend killed. Walther hired a professional hit man, Franz Boas.

I provided all the details and $US 25,000 up front with $US 25,000 on completion of the assignment.

Walther left a message that Franz had killed Jackie and I wired him the balance.

“But, we haven’t addressed Bill’s death.”

“No, so we went back to our other suspects, Samantha and Rosanna, to see if we had missed anything and went through all their records to try to somehow connect them with a killer or put them at the cabin at that time.

“We looked at everything during the period in question: airline passenger checks; passport checks; rental car records; even did forensics on their own cars; we examined credit card records, phone records, anything we could think of that would link them with the crime but nothing surfaced. We even distributed pictures of them throughout the town. We were stumped.

“So on a hunch, I contacted Carol’s lawyer to give him a heads up that we were going to subpoena Carol’s grandfather. This broke things open.”

Carol couldn’t see her grandfather suffer and, negotiating through her lawyer, said she had further information if we would drop the subpoena and agree to a lesser sentence for her. We agreed and I’ll read the continuation of Carol’s testimony.”

“The next day, when I found out on the news that Bill had been shot, too, I immediately contacted Walther.

“He said, when Franz got there, he found this man on the floor, evidently a burglar. Jackie, who was sitting dazed in a chair, had dropped the gun by her side.  Franz decided it would cause less suspicion if he killed Jackie with her own gun.”

Epilogue

Jackie’s dad, a retired Superintendent with the provincial police, discovered the bodies and recognized the gun he’d given his daughter.

Carol Bell was sentenced to life for conspiracy to murder. In return for her testimony, the sentence was reduced to eighteen years. Carol’s eligible for parole in ten years.

Madison and Jason Hale are still active as detectives and live with their three daughters in a small town just outside metropolitan Toronto.

Franz Boas returned to his native Austria. Canada does not have an extradition treaty with Austria.

“Kathy Benoit died.”

“Not a good sign, reading the obituaries. I don’t know the name, should I?”

“She won an Olympic gold medal a while back.”

“Can’t say that I remember.”

“You might recall that she was the one who disappeared after the Olympics and later on brought down a member of parliament. And it was all planned.”

“Oh I vaguely recall now, what exactly was behind that anyway?”

“It’s quite a story. Kathy was a sharp gal as well as a top athlete. Once she won the Olympic gold, she announced that she was going to travel and didn’t return to Canada with the other members of the Olympic squad. The government, and Jimmy Martin MP in particular, started to raise a stink about how much the government had invested in the Olympic program and its athletes and how the athletes should return to show their gratitude and wave the flag. And that’s when Jimmy Martin and the government got into hot water. They started to bad mouth her, singling her out. Kathy, through her lawyers, successfully sued Jimmy Martin for defamation of character.”

“Oh yes, I do remember, but how was it planned?”

“It goes back a bit. Kathy’s grandfather, George Fergus, had started a lumbering operation in British Columbia way back when. He was quite successful and planned to grow his business but his bid to get additional logging rights was turned down by the government at that time. The minister responsible, Ted Martin, had been bought off by a competitor of Fergus’s, Colin Sedgwick. Ted Martin had a taste for the good life that his salary couldn’t support.

“Kathy’s grandfather didn’t have the connections to expose the corruption but there was a lot of ill will and he held a grudge against both the Sedgwicks and Martins and made it known he’d get back at them. This is what Kathy grew up with and Kathy’s mother, who was raising a family and helping with the business at the time, fuelled the fires of revenge through Kathy.”

‘But nobody could plan to win a gold medal.’

“Quite right. Kathy was a superb athlete and it took a lot of work plus luck but she became a champion rower. At the time Kathy was exploring a lot of ideas on how to avenge her grandfather. Her first thought was to go after the Sedgwicks.  She once had fanciful visions of walking down the aisle with one of the grandsons and then bringing down their business. It turned out, however, that the lack of romantic interest was mutual so that plan died.

“So Kathy next turned to the minister’s family where there was a grandson, Jimmy Martin, and she couldn’t bring herself to show any romantic interest in him either. But Jimmy had political ambitions, just like his grandfather, and this is where Kathy thought there was an opportunity and where she focused her energies.”

‘Why wouldn’t Jimmy be suspicious of Kathy?’

‘Benoit, of course, was Kathy’s father’s name. Since she didn’t carry her mother’s name, Jimmy didn’t make the connection between Benoit and the running feud his family had had with George Fergus.

“Jimmy was self important at an early age so it was fairly easy for Kathy to pump up his ego. She encouraged him to become a member the debating team and run for school council. She followed him to university and, with her encouragement, he got involved in the university political scene. At this time Kathy’s athletic career blossomed and she started to win provincial rowing events setting national records. This started her thinking about how she could set him up to bring him down. Jimmy made it a lot easier by showing a romantic interest in Kathy and she encouraged it. When she was picked for the Olympic team she had her plan.

“Jimmy was making a name for himself in politics by that time and his plans included Kathy. This is what Kathy had hoped for so when Jimmy proposed, she turned him down flat and, as she suspected, Jimmy never got over it. So the scene was set, Kathy, with her mom’s financial help through the company, made sure that every government related cost associated with her Olympic journey was paid for and Jimmy was primed to dump on Kathy for dumping him. When Kathy disappeared, Jimmy was quick to denounce her for wasting tax payers’ money. Kathy, through her lawyers, showed the country she had financially made it to the Olympics on her own. Jimmy had to pay plus leave a promising career in politics.”

“Wow, so she avenged her grandfather.”

“Well, partly, there were still the Sedgwicks to deal with. And this, too, is an interesting story.

“Frank Sedgwick, a dour but crafty Scot, had emigrated to Canada and done well in logging on the west coast.

“The fact that Frank had once resorted to bribery probably suggested a vulnerability that had passed its way down through the generations. The great grandsons, who had grown up in the business Frank had started and now ran the company, were running into rough times like the rest of the industry so they weren’t above considering deals that would help them survive. And they were probably well aware of, and maybe even a bit proud of, the history of how the clan got an early jump on the competition.

“The story goes the Sedgwicks were approached by a ministry of lands and forest advisor on the QT who said that, for a price, there was a way to open up native lands for logging. The advisor was working directly with a senior government official who agreed to clear the paper work for a bribe. The advisor took them to the track of land in question and showed them a breakdown of the forestation. The Sedgwicks liked what they saw. It wasn’t going to be cheap but the Sedgwicks calculated that it could easily turn a profit. The advisor gave them a week to decide.

“Now the Sedgwicks weren’t born yesterday and did their homework. The lands in question were protected by a treaty but the natives didn’t inhabit or use the land. Also, there was some question about who actually owned the lands, the natives or the government. And there had been public pressure to open them up to logging. Lumber mills were being abandoned at that time and the government had to support several of them to keep employment up so any plan that saved the lumber industry was going to be popular. And once the ownership had been changed to the Sedgwicks, it would be to up to the natives to disprove it and that would take a lot of time and money. By then the Sedgwicks would have made a handsome return.

“What clinched the deal for the Sedgwicks was the admission by the advisor that he was having trouble supporting a lifestyle he enjoyed and needed to find ways to supplement his income. They knew all about that first hand; they had dealing with corrupt officials in their blood.

‘True to form, the Sedgwicks gave the advisor his price plus the bribe to pass on to the senior official.

“When they started logging operations, however, the natives quickly organized, became militant and brought things to a bitter standstill. This opened up the issue and once the details of the deal became public, the government vehemently denied having anything to do with it and started an inquiry which stopped the logging in its tracks. The Sedgwicks never recovered.”

“Well, well, so in a way old man Fergus did get his revenge but Kathy wasn’t a part of that.”

“No, not directly, but the advisor, once he got his money, like his mother, disappeared.”

 I season my lunch, the meal I’m usually eating on my own, with a pinch of reading. Which typically takes the form of whichever package is gracing the table at that time. An example: today it’s soup for lunch and looking for substance, I grab a bag of Farm Boy crackers. They’re NATURAL tortilla chips, a flavour I don’t embrace but drowning them in the soup helps me get over them. The NATURAL, in capitals, in not my doing; the manufacturer obviously doesn’t want you to miss the point, ‘These are not unnatural tortilla chips, my friends, these come from a well loved and watered tortilla tree that lets nature do all the work.’ Or some version thereof.

On to reading the bag, this is mid-May, 60 days into the heart of the COVID-19 pandemic and you’re still not sure if you’re going to get it so you medicate yourself by staying indoors where everything is safe and then you notice that this NATURAL product you’ve got swimming in your soup, these make-believe Mexican marvels, are well past their due date.

I know there are stories about people getting in a fret when something is one day past its best by date but even though my crackers are at least a month too old, I suspect they’re as fresh now as they ever were and will ever be. But it does get you to wondering: do I go out and breathe my last breath or stay in and eat myself to any early ending? Has to qualify for the lose-lose award of the times.

The other flag that has been raised recently in the news is reading the barcode to see if whatever you’re embracing was made in China or elsewhere; the elsewhere supposedly being the better place. You can find this list easily on the internet but for the purpose of keeping your attention, 690 – 695, are the first three digits that tweek your sino-phobia. So I hurriedly grab the bag and adjust my eyes to the fine print to see a leading 0.

Phew!

But not so fast, who claims the leading 0? Ah, either Canada or the good old US and A. Saved. And, while spooning my just-best-by bouillon, I search for other positive feedback on the bag to affirm that I’m staying healthy eating these now soggy saltines and zoom in on an item that says, ‘Made in Canada from domestic and imported ingredients,’ so I’m not out of the woods yet, the particles that kill the moment you pass the best by date could be the imported bits and, wait for it, not from the US and A, but from China. Aghhhhhh!

Hard to get your head into this, though. Maybe it could happen, let’s suppose, when Farm Boy decides, on a slow day, to get into the made-in-Canada-from-domestic-and-imported-ingredients NATURAL (their capitals) tortilla chip manufacturing business, because it’s May and sales of their made-somewhere NATURAL Christmas cakes are slowing, and the brain trust wonders what it would take to make these darn things better than the other guys’, does this picture appear before their dreaming eyes?

“Dr. Mildred Bentworthy, you’re our chief nutritionist, these are great but I think a dash, a soupçon if you will, of product X would get these to fly off the shelves; if you’re on side with this, who in the world supplies product X? China? Cool, I’ll put in a call for a couple of shipping containers of the stuff. Have the containers power washed just to be safe and remember to update the packaging to indicate ‘Made-in-Canada-from-domestic-and-imported-ingredients,’ and slap on a country Canada barcode.”

Could this be? Doesn’t the barcode say, ‘Canada’? A little digging on the internet indicates (Are you sitting down?) that these codes do indeed don’t ¹ With apologies to, ‘Yes, we have no bananas.’ tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

There are two bodies that designate country codes so you’ve no idea which code you’re trying to translate and secondly, the code could indicate a country of manufacture not origin. So this NATURAL, their capitals,  Canadian tortilla chip creation, while doubtless China free, could easily have been stirred together in purified Canadian air with the appropriate country of Canada bar code but could also have realistically absorbed, thanks to some tasty other imported ingredients from California say, the smog that smothers Los Angeles with no revealing asterisk on the barcode.

Funny how things change.

I glance at the bag’s Nutrition Facts table as I chase the last of clumps running around the bowl, just curious, to see where the big numbers are: Fat, Sodium and Carbohydrate; killers all. A year ago, these would have kept me quickly carting past this aisle in the grocery store.

So today you have a choice, you can feel sorry for yourself because of:    A. COVID-19 or B. xenophobia or C. malnutrition.

Or a menu of all three. Bon appétit.