To make a fair decision, I made a list of the things I like about my new wife. Criteria having to do with her appearance filled numbers one through fourteen. The fact that she was willing to marry me was number fifteen, and beyond that I was stumped. It’s no secret I hadn’t really known Melanie outside of between the sheets when I proposed. She was pregnant with my child, which put her in a vulnerable position. With June dead, I was without a wife. Marriage appeared to be a solution that would fit both our needs.

What I had failed to consider was the fact that I was not in love with her. I covered for this with the notion that arranged marriages have a greater success rate than do those who come by way of natural selection. This is due to many factors, including but not limited to cultural beliefs and stigma around divorce, as well as the financial status of the females in the partnership.

But I was not making the list to determine whether or not to divorce Melanie. Now that A) the pregnancy and resulting child were no longer factors in staying together and B) she had proven herself to be untrustworthy, I was determining whether or not to kill her.

To get a few things straight: I am not a murderer. While I have contemplated the act on many occasions, I have yet to act on the compulsion. And although I assume the skill involved would not be too difficult to acquire, there is one major problem: I would not be a good candidate for prison. I do not read social cues well enough to survive in that type of environment.

So, as one can imagine, given the choice between killing one person (my wife), or killing three (her previous lovers), the situation seems like a no-brainer. Killing one person is certainly less labor intensive than killing three. On the flip side, it’s easier to kill a person you haven’t had sex with. Generally speaking. Particularly, if you’re a fan of the sex, which I am, very much. My wife is incredibly cunning, and this creativity spills over, if you know what I mean.

In addition, the risk involved with killing Melanie and getting caught is far greater than killing men I have lesser or no ties to. Everyone knows when a woman is murdered, it’s always the husband. This doesn’t even take in to consideration that killing Melanie would mean having to replace her. The cost of acquiring a new wife would be substantial. Not only would I need to find a suitable candidate, which can be quite labor intensive, I’d have to find one with equal or greater looks who would be willing to accept my proposal.

This makes finding a solution to the dilemma I face rather difficult. It’s important I ensure all factors are examined and analyzed before making a determination.

Which means I need more time. Time is not something Mark is particularly lenient about. He will kill Melanie—or rather, he will have her killed, just to prove a point. Problem solved. On one hand, that would make my decision easier. But who do you think the cops will come looking for when I’m presented with a second dead wife on my hands? It won’t be Mark.

As the saying goes, when you meet a swordsman, draw your sword. Do not recite poetry to one who is not a poet. In short, in order to buy time, I have to go around Mark, directly to the only source capable of stalling him. His wife.

I end up where most people go to research something when the internet isn’t safe. The library. I need to know the most efficient method to murder a person without getting caught, preferably without having to handle the clean up. As I mentioned, I do not do well where blood is concerned. I like things neat and tidy, and blood is the opposite of that.

While there is no shortage of ways to end a life, humans are quite fragile when it comes right down to it. I learn that hit and runs, strangulation, drive-by shootings, or poisoning a person fit well with what I am looking to do. The problem with hitting someone with your car and drive-by shooting them are that you need weapons, namely a car and a gun. I don’t even own a sword. I’m living on borrowed time. Plus, these items will always link you to the crime, particularly so if there are witnesses involved. Those only lead to further complications and more people to kill. As I’ve come to find, silence has a price, and often that price is murder.

The third option, to poison a person, would mean either acquiring or manufacturing the substance to handle the job. And while I know enough about chemistry that this shouldn’t be too big of an obstacle, I’d have to get close to them. I’m not sure I want to look my wife’s past in the eye. Self-awareness just so happens to be a strong suit of mine. And I know that to do so would only provide inspiration for the final method: strangulation. After all, nothing is safer than dead.

Beth hosts Book Club on Monday evenings in the garden at church, which makes it easy to schedule a run-in of sorts. Basically, this is what less intelligent people like to call coincidences.

Predictability can almost always work in one’s favor. First, you have to set things up by creating patterns. Routine makes others comfortable. The more familiar with you they become, the easier time you’ll have lulling them to sleep. Then, once you have them where you want them, you can allow preconceived notions they hold about you to act as a smoke screen, a pleasant front from behind which you can carry out your deceptions. Patterns are extremely powerful, and you can easily terrify people by disrupting them.

“Tom,” she says, her brows raised, eyes wide, proof of my success. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I wanted to discuss something with you.”

“Oh,” she says, glancing at me sideways. “Sorry, now isn’t the best time.” She pulls out her phone, if only to prove a point. “I’m meeting Mark for a late dinner.”

“That’s perfect.” She walks, I walk. “Because I have a meeting upstairs in five minutes.” And because I understand Beth lacks intelligence, I provide clarification. “I don’t have long.”

She picks up the pace and I match her stride. “I noticed the numbers are down for incoming couples in the 20-34 age groups.”

“Yes,” she says without looking at me. “We’re working on that.”

“Well, I think I know why.”

We’ve reached the parking lot. She is searching for her car. I don’t have much time. Less than I thought. “Why?”

“People are getting married older.”

“Ok.” She’s digging for her key.

“That means unless their parents are members, people in that age range aren’t seeking out the opportunities a church community can give them.”

“That’s too bad.” She’s not even listening.

“You’re right. It is bad. Very. That demographic doesn’t join because they don’t think they’ll find a life partner here. And the truth is, it’s a catch-22. Unless we bring numbers up, they won’t.”

Finally, she is successful with the key. “You have a point.”

“So that’s what I was wondering…how are you recruiting in that age bracket?”

She turns to me then. I may not be good at reading social cues, but I have known Beth long enough to understand that she’s curious as to why I want to know. “Well…” she starts. “Same as the others. Social media. Ads in strategic places. Word of mouth…”

“What you need are influencers.”

Her face twists. Women like Beth do not appreciate it when you try to do their job for them. She’s not good at hiding it, either. It’s clear in her tone. “And where do you suggest I find those?”

“You could start with my wife.”

I know that my idea will mean releasing Melanie sooner rather than later. And in order for me to make a determination about how to move forward with Mark’s demands, frankly, I need this to happen.

Her head cocks to the side. “Melanie.”

“Yeah.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, when it’s a very big deal. If Mark makes his move before I make a final decision as to which way to go, I’ll be out a wife and a job as well, and under investigation for murder. My house is in the church’s name. I really like that house. Without time to put a proper plan in place, I’ll end up with nothing. No one wants to live like that.

She’s still looking at me quizzically. “You’ve seen her at parties,” I add, and I leave it at that. Few women like to see another woman admired.

Beth folds her arms. “We’ve considered that,” she lies. “But we’re working on the reprogramming first.”

“With the reprogramming—there’s something you aren’t taking into consideration.”

She rolls her eyes. “And what would that be?”

“The reprograming makes her like you.”

Her mouth falls open. Prior experience with her type tells me she’s offended. I have to make a quick recovery. But not too quick. “Is that so bad?”

“No. Not at all,” I promise like a confession. “Unless you’re wanting millennials to join the church.” I take a deep breath and hold it. This is going to hurt. Logic often does. “When is the last time you wanted to be like your parents?”

Her eyes narrow. “Um, never.”

“According to my research, the last thing millennials want is to be like the generation that came before. Which means we have to lure them in with something different. Melanie is different. Before we change her, we should use her.”

I watch as she does a double-take. People often first balk at solutions before they accept them. “Well, it certainly seems to have worked on you, hasn’t it?”

“Just talk to Mark about it, would you? See what he thinks.”

I know Beth will never let on that a good idea wasn’t hers.

“I will,” she promises. I open the car door for her. Once she’s in, she pauses and looks up at me. “In the meantime, you have any other grand ideas?”

“Nope,” I force a smile. “Now that we know how to increase the numbers, I’m fresh out.”