Mister Dingledine by Robert F. Clifton (books suggested by elon musk .txt) 📕

Chapter One Married Life

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mister Dingledine

by

Robert F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2016 by Robert F. Clifton

 

All rights reserved. No part of this

book may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any

means without written

permission from the author.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The reader is advised that this is a work

of fiction any similarities of persons

places or events is purely coincidental.

R.F. Clifton

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table Of Contents

 

 

Chapter One....Married Life

Chapter Two....Ethel

Chapter Three..Alberta

Chapter Four....Death

Chapter Five.....Investigation

Chapter Six.......Theodore Henderson

Chapter Seven...The Prosecution

Chapter Eight....The Defense

Chapter Nine......Closing Arguments

Chapter Ten........Eastern Penitentiary

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

Married Life

 

Herbert Dingledine sat at his kitchen table grading the test papers that his students had submitted. From time to time he had to stop, remove his eyeglasses and rub his eyes. The gas lamp on the wall gave off a yellow glow. It was enough to see, except when it came to constant reading. It was the year 1900 and although he owned the house on North Fourth Street in the Liberty section of Philadelphia the house lacked electricity and he didn't have the funds to have it installed.

Dingeldine was a small man of stature standing five foot four inches tall and weighing one hundred and forty-five pounds. He had dark brown hair that was thin and balding. A well-trimmed mustache covered his upper lip. As a boy growing up he had been frail and while other boys his age played outside he stayed in his bedroom and studied. Born in 1870 he graduated from high school in the year 1887. At age twenty he applied for a teachers position and with a high school diploma met the requirements to teach. His first two years were spent teaching in an elementary school. Then, an opening occurred at a high school and he took the position teaching biology.

By nature he was thrifty, saving what money he could. He also had three interests, the first was gardening and he grew his own vegetables and produce in his backyard garden. Next, was science and chemistry. Finally, he enjoyed cooking. To him, cooking was a part of chemistry requiring precise measurements, temperatures and time.

Actually, he cooked out of necessity since his wife

Ethel who imagined that she was constantly ill and unable to stand for long periods of time, or so she said. To him, she had become a lazy, nagging, whining, hypochondriac who he had to constantly wait on all of the time. While he was small she was large standing nearly five foot ten and now weighing two hundred and five pounds and getting larger every day.

Herbert smiled as he corrected a test paper, glad to know that he was teaching and his students were learning. his thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice.

"Herbert? Bring me a glass of water," said Ethel Dingledine.

"Can't you get it yourself? You can see that I'm busy," Herbert answered.

"You know I suffer from vertigo. I get very dizzy if I stand too long."

"It wouldn't hurt you to get up. Stand up and practice standing. that way you just might get over what ails you."

"Are you going to bring me a glass of water or not? I could die of thirst for all you care."

" To tell you the truth, I don’t care how you die, just that you do it quickly,” he thought to himself as he got up from the table walked to the sink and after taking a glass filled it from the kitchen faucet. He then carried the glass of water to Ethel who sat on the upholstered sofa. “Here,” he said handing her the glass. He then walked back to the kitchen, the table, and the test papers.

“This water is warm. You didn’t allow the water to run for a bit before you filled the glass,” Ethel complained.

“I let the water run.”

“You say you did, but I know better. Bring me another glass.”

“No. If you want another glass of water get up off of the couch and get it yourself,” Herbert replied.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like to see me fall, injure myself, perhaps break a hip. I can just imagine seeing you standing over me as I lay on the floor.”

“Ethel, I’m trying to concentrate on grading these papers. Please stop badgering me.”

“Oh, so now I’m badgering you am I? Why, because I’m ill and need attention from my husband, who by the way pays no attention to me at all.”

“ You have no idea just how much attention I give you each and every day. I have to listen to you constantly, listen to how sick you think you are. I have to listen to the excuses you give of how you can’t cook, clean the house, or do the laundry. Oh, I pay attention to you, believe me,” keeping his thoughts to himself.

“I saw a rat in the backyard yesterday. I want you to make sure they don’t get in the house,” she said.

“I’ll take care of it,” he answered.

“When? You say you will, but you won’t. I know you won’t. You’ll either forget or ignore the fact that rodents are present and are about to enter our home.”

“I’ll do it.”

“How? How are you going to prevent rodents from entering the house?

“I’ll put down poison.”

“Make sure you put it near the back door and use plenty.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“See that you do. Why don’t you do it now? There’s still plenty of daylight.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it now, anything to shut you up so I can finish these papers,” he said as he got up and walked outside through the kitchen door.

He walked through his backyard to the corner of the high fence that separated his property from that of his neighbors. In that corner, he  had built a small shed that he used to keep his gardening tools and supplies. At the door of the shed, he pulled a key chain and keys out of his trouser pocket, found the key to the padlock on the door and unlocked it. After opening the door he reached inside and removed a bag of Paris green, a rodenticide from a shelf. He then carried the poisoned powder to the back door and sprinkled a large amount, forming what he hoped was a wide, blue-green, barrier in front of the back entrance. After carrying the half empty bag of poison back to the shed he placed it back on the shelf, closed the door and locked it.

Back in the house he washed his hands, dried them and sat again at the kitchen table.

“Did you put down the poison?”, asked Ethel.

“Certainly, what did you think I was doing outside?”

“How do I know? I’m sure you do things that I’m not aware of. You keep things from me?”

“ How about the things you keep from me? You don’t even perform as a wife. You claim that you’re afraid of getting pregnant thinking that you would die during childbirth,” he thought to himself. “Ethel, what could I possibly keep from you?”, he asked.

“Plenty. How do I know what you do when you are at work?”

“ What I do at work, is teach. Would you prefer that I read my lesson plan for the day to you before I leave in the morning?”

“Don’t be silly. My feet hurt. I want you to rub liniment on them. It takes the pain away for awhile.”

“The pain in your feet is caused by not standing or walking. Get up and move about.”

“You don’t care. I can truly see that you don’t care about my health or my discomfort. I could die for all you care.”

“ I should be so lucky,” he thought.

Herbert started the next morning just as he did every morning. He would climb out of bed and while still in his nightshirt would walk into the kitchen. There, he filled the coffee pot with water. Using the coffee grinder he would then grind the beans and empty the coffee into the pot. After placing the pot on the gas stove he turned on the burner and after raising the flame to his desired height turned and walked back to the bedroom.

Being fastidious, he would require a clean union suit of underwear each day as well as a clean, white shirt and a celluloid collar. Putting on his trousers he would then place his suspenders, walk to the bathroom and lathered his face with shaving soap. He would then removed last night's growth of whiskers using a straight razor.

Once dressed, he made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. Removing a loaf of bread from the bread box he cut three slices. One slice would be his breakfast. The other two slices were for the sandwich he would make and carry to work for his lunch. Usually, the sandwich would be made from leftover beef, chicken or ham. Without meat, he would use either cheese or jam. Today, he would use cheese.

Herbert sat at the kitchen table taking small bites from the slice of dry bread. He would chew then take sips of black coffee. As he did he thought of the lesson plan he had created for the day in the classroom. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Ethel’s voice. “Herbert! Bring me a cup of coffee. I’m too ill to get out of bed. I think you should either send for the doctor or stay home and take care of me,” she cried.

“Doctors cost money. There’s nothing wrong with you. You imagine that you’re sick. Get up out of bed and move about. I guarantee that you’ll feel better,” he answered.

“Oh, so now you’re a doctor. I don’t believe you. All I ask is a bit of consideration. Do I get it? No.”

“I’m bringing you a cup of coffee, then I’m leaving for work.”

“On your way home stop and see Kroger the butcher. Buy a fat stewing hen. One with yellow skin. I need chicken broth. It does wonders for me.”

“Good. Maybe it will get you up and about,” he replied.

After leaving the house Herbert walked to the trolly stop. There he boarded the last horse drawn trolly car in Philadelphia soon to be retired as the transportation company switched to electric powered cars. After paying his five cent fare he would take any available seat near a window enjoying the sights of the city as people went about their business, some shopping, most going to work.

Arriving at the school Herbert walked into his classroom and after taking a seat at his desk he opened a drawer and placed his lunch, contained in a paper bag inside. He looked up when he heard a female voice say, “Good morning, Mister Dingledine.”

“Good morning, Miss Collins.”

“I hope that we may converse at lunch today. I have something to tell you,” she said.

“May I say that I look forward to our lunch together today,” he replied.

“See you then,” she said as she walked away.

Herbert smiled just knowing that she acknowledged his being there made him happy. Alberta Collins was a small, petite, young woman. He had learned by talking to members of the faculty that her father, a railroad worker had been killed in an accident. As a result, she took care of her mother, necessitating in turning down many suitors that asked for her favors. For some reason, she went out of her way to engage Herbert in conversation, usually at the table in the faculty lunch room. There, they would share a small pot of tea. He would eat his sandwich she would take small bites from tiny finger sandwich’s sometimes watercress or when in season, lettuce and tomato.

All he knew was that when she asked him to join her at the lunch table he became a clock watcher wishing that time would fly by. She was small, petite, with a perfect, white porcelain complexion. Her light brown hair consisted of long hair that she wore in a bun but wore loose on