Margie Keeler was a special person. She lived in the suburbs with her husband George and her two girls Lisa and Cindy. Golden hair Cindy was eight and her little sister was five. George worked at the local electronics store replacing vacuum tubes in television sets.
They had a beautiful brick two-story home that was the envy of the neighborhood, as it had been seen in Ladies Home Digest magazine (the March issue). Margie was an exceptional gardener and her yard showed it. Even her culinary skills were renown, it seemed, all over the United States.
This particular morning Margie was leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking a cup of coffee. She was watching her daughters eat their breakfast of perfectly poached eggs on toasted English muffins with homemade hollandaise sauce. The girls were dressed and their hair was perfectly coifed. Margie wore a light blue linen dress from Fran’s Dress Shoppe in town, with pumps to match and pearls. She was never seen in public without her pearls, they were her trademark. She was very happy to see her children eat her cooking. It made her very proud. All the other kids would be eating something ghastly like corn flakes or (heaven forbid) peanut butter and jelly.
Once the girls were through with their meal they asked politely to be excused then ran upstairs to brush their teeth. Such good girls they were, Margie thought. Margie rinsed the dishes. While she was bending over to place the dishes neatly in the dishwasher she felt large hands grab her from behind, almost making her drop her mother's good china that she inherited after she quickly passed away.
“George!” she squealed. “Don’t ever do that again, you scared me to death!” She was out of breath; her hand on her heaving chest. “I’m sorry darlin',” he winked and kissed her on the forehead. “Would you like some breakfast?” “No time. I’m already late. I’ll just take some coffee in my thermos and be out the door, okey, dokey?”
She poured the dishwasher powder in the proper slot in the dishwasher door, closed it and turned it on. She placed the box back under the sink where it belonged. Turning on her heel she left the kitchen, went to the bottom of the staircase.
"Come on girls, you are going to be late for school!” George was dressed in his usual work attire of white short-sleeve dress shirt with a black clip-on tie and black pants. His black horned rimmed glasses made him look like an intellectual, Margie thought. He swept her in his arms, careful not to splash coffee on her new dress, and kissed her on the mouth. She loved the smell of him, like today, when he slicked his dark hair back with Vitalis. It made him look just like George Chakiris from West Side Story. It was funny they both had the same first name. She noticed he had her lipstick on his mouth. She laughed and took his handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped the stain away. After the girls were safely dropped off at school, Margie headed back home. As she was driving down Washington Street she noticed her neighbor and friend, Sally Hicks. Sally was a new mother and was pushing the baby in its buggy. Margie pulled over to the side of the road and rolled her window down. She waved her gloved hand, “Yoo-Hoo!” she sang. Sally spotted Margie waving, looked around before she walked over to the car. “How’s our little mother today?” Margie smiled. “Just peachy,” Sally answered. “You look so good, Sally. You almost have your figure back.” “Well, thank you Margie. That was very kind of you to say.” Sally looked slightly uncomfortable. “So what’s on the menu for tonight?” “I was thinking Coq au Vin.” “That sounds delicious, but then Margie everything you cook sounds delicious. A bit rich for my husband’s taste.” “Oh no Sally. It’s easy. It’s as easy as pie.” She covered her mouth as she laughed at her own joke. Sally smiled nervously. “I must be going, Margie it was really good to see you.” “Yes Sally good to see you. Bon Appitit!” she waved as she drove away. Margie was very proud to drive up her driveway to her house because the house always locked picture-book perfect. She put the car in park, turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car. Walking to the front door she noticed a dead bird on the walkway and sighed. “Oh no, you poor thing!” She carefully stepped around the animal. Once inside she had to calm herself down as to not cry. Seeing that poor dead creature on the sidewalk could just about ruin her whole day. She removed her gloves and placed them with her keys and pocketbook on the table in the foyer as always. She walked through the kitchen to the garage where she found a shovel and her flowered working gloves. “Oh my how time flies!” she exclaimed as she looked at her watch after depositing the dead bird in the garbage can with the help of the shovel. She washed the blade off and hung it back up to dry. She removed her work gloves, placing them back in their proper place. It was five minutes before noon. At twelve o’clock, Monday through Friday her favorite show came on PPS, Cooking With Julia Child. She washed her hands, filled the kettle with water and set it on the burner to boil. She took down from the cabinet her favorite mug and placed a Lipton tea bag in it. George had installed a small television in the kitchen for her to watch while she cooked. He was so thoughtful that way. She walked over to the set turning it on she heard the familiar hum as it warmed up. She set her notepad and pencil on the table when the kettle whistled that it was ready. She poured the water in the mug when she heard Julia Child’s distinctive voice exclaim, “Bon Appitit!” Quickly she sat at the table, pencil in hand, eager to write down any pearls of wisdom that Julia spewed forth. “Today,” Julia started, “we are going to prepare a delightful Coq au Vin. “Oh me,” Margie started, “this already sounds difficult.” No sooner did Julia Child preheat the oven when the television went black. Margie sat there with her mouth open. The picture came back but instead of Mrs. Child it was the face of a news anchorman. “We are sorry to interrupt our current broadcast to inform you that a prison break has occurred.” “What?” Margie shrieked. She started to breath hard. A prison-break? During Julia Child? The announcer explained that although three men had escaped one minute after midnight from the maximum-security prison in Tallahassee, two had been apprehended. One was still at large. He was the most deadly. He was on Death Row for the murder of his wife and kids. He was last spotted in a light blue late model Dodge Dart heading south. A description of the man soon followed; tall, dark hair, black glasses... “What?” she repeated. She couldn’t believe her ears. “What do you think you are doing?” Margie was livid. “You can’t interrupt me and my cooking program! Who do you think you are? You can’t come into my fucking house and interrupt my God damned cooking program!” She picked up her favorite mug and flung it at the television. The television exploded with a giant bang. Sparks and smoke went everywhere. “See! Are you happy now?” she yelled at the smoking set. “Are you fucking happy? Now I’ll never know how to cook fucking Coq au Vin. If that cock sucking convict came any where near me and my family I would cut his nuts off and shove them down his throat!” Margie was distraught. Her favorite part of the day was ruined. After fixing her hair and smoothing the front of her dress, she said, “Oh, dear me, how clumsy,” then proceeded to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The clock on the wall read two minutes after noon. Afterword she decided to go upstairs and take a nap. She went to the sink and filled a glass with cold tap water. She walked up the steps, down the hall to her bedroom that she shared with her husband. She pulled the flowered drapes closed and went into the bathroom where she turned on the light. She opened the medicine chest and removed an amber colored bottle with a white plastic lid. She opened the lid and extracted two tiny white pills and tossed them down her throat. She drank down the cold water. Instantly she felt better. She turned off the light. She kicked off her shoes and laid on the bed with the bedspread in place as not to mess up her beautiful sleeping arrangement of over-stuffed pillows and cashmere throw at the foot of the bed. Margie noticed the time on her bedside clock, “ten minutes after twelve. I have just enough time.” She adjusted the pleats on her dress. She didn’t want to look untidy when George and the girls came home for dinner. When she adjusted herself on the bed she felt a sharp prick on the inside of her arm. “It must be a bad bedspring that has come undone. "I’ll have to tell George about it when he comes home. Yes, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll tell my husband George. First I’ll take a little nap.” Margie, dressed in her perfect light blue linen dress; her hair beautiful and her house in order, went to sleep.
From The Miami Herald dated April 1, 2014. At 12:10 am Marjorie Keeler, known as Keeler the Killer was executed by lethal injection at the Tallahassee State Facility. Mrs. Keeler was found guilty of poisoning her husband George and their two children Lisa and Cindy then burying the bodies in the backyard. The Florida Coroner stated that a sedative had been given to the prisoner at 12:02 am, then strapped to the gurney and wheeled into the chamber where she was administered the lethal dose of sodium pentothal at 12:05. At the celebrated trial, Mrs. Keeler showed the upmost of style and refinement showing up at the courthouse in matching sweater sets and pearls; having some refer to her as Beaver Cleaver’s mother. One of the witnesses to the execution was her neighbor Mrs. Sally Hicks of Hollywood, FLA. Mrs. Hicks was the prosecution’s star witness as saying that Mrs. Keeler had confessed everything to her. Mrs. Keeler’s last meal was Coq au Vin.
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