Speaker 1: You're listening to the Mind Over Murder podcast.
Speaker 2: My name is Bill Thomas. I'm a writer, consulting, producer,
and now podcaster. I am now trying to use my
experience as the brother of a murder victim to help
other victims of violent crime. I'm working on a book
on the unsolved Colonial Parkway murders, and I'm the co
administrator of the Colonial Parkway Murders Facebook group together with
Kristin Dilly.
Speaker 3: My name is Kristin Dilly. I'm a writer, a researcher,
a teacher, and a victim's advocate, as well as the
social media manager and co administrator for the Colonial Parkway
Murders Facebook page with my partner in crime, Bill Thomas.
Speaker 4: Welcome to mind Over Murder. I'm Kristin Dilly.
Speaker 2: And I'm Bill Thomas.
Speaker 4: We are in the thick of spooky season. It is
October the eighteenth. The leaves are falling rapidly over here.
Things are starting to look a little spooky out there. Bill,
how's it looking up there in Connecticut?
Speaker 2: Well, you know, up here in Chili, New England, leaves
are falling. Every time I look out the window, I
see more leaves coming down and It makes me think
of a falls, past, present, and future. I like autumn.
Speaker 4: I like autumn too. I like autumn because Halloween is
my favorite season. And I like it now that it's
getting colder. And I like it because now there are
no more bugs. Bugs have gone back to the hell
where they belong.
Speaker 2: Not a big fan of bugs, are you?
Speaker 4: Yep?
Speaker 2: Well, I know you can get out there in the
hot and sweaty and mow your on lawn as do I.
Your lawn is bigger than mine. We've probably got one
more lawn mowing project, which is also one mowing slash
leaf mulching.
Speaker 4: I would imagine maybe once more here. And another reason
I don't like bugs is because I got stung by
a bee the other day when I was out mowing
my lawn. And so forget that bug, man. That was terrible.
I like getting stung by things, and that was a
bug and it stung me, So forget it. I'm not
happy with.
Speaker 2: Bugs, completely understood. I'm looking forward to Halloween, which is
two weeks away. And up here in our little town
they block off our street. Our street is the one
with all of the cool old houses on it, and
ours is one of those cool old houses eighteen eighty
Queen Anne Victorian and people have said, oh, this would
make a great haunted house, but we never really wanted
to scare the little kids or anything like that.
Speaker 4: So like from eighteen eighty, are you sure you don't
have a ghost in that house? Bill? I mean, are
you sure you don't have a ghost in that house?
Speaker 2: Our previous house, we did have a ghostly type event
that took place. I don't think I've ever told you
that story. So this is twenty five years ago. My
ex wife and I I bought another old eighteen fifty
little farmhouse on the way on the outskirts of town.
It's actually like ten miles from here. It's still within
the same town, but that house was way out all
kind of by. It's lonesome on a country road. Early
on when we bought that house, we did have a
very strange thing occur. Valerie, my ex wife, and I
were up there. This is before our son Christopher was born.
So it's the two of us and our cat, Pumpkin,
very seasonally appropriate cat, I might add, and a really
is an all great cat that was in the fall
that first year that we bought the house. It's a
little country farmhouse, and we're up on the second floor,
kind of under the eaves. There were two bedrooms and
a bathroom upstairs. We're in bed and it's dark, you
could still see because there was moonlight Outsideuddenly, from downstairs
there was the loudest crash you've ever heard in your life.
The entire little house shook.
Speaker 4: Wow.
Speaker 2: And we both sat bolt up in bed and said
something to the effect of what was that. Our cat
came running up the stairs and jumped in bed with us, like, ooh,
I don't know what that was, but it was spooky.
So Pumpkins there trying to borrow under the covers, like
trying to hide from whatever it is. Of course, me
being the husband, I get sent downstairs to check it out.
So I make my way downstairs, fully expecting to see
a massive bookcase has fallen over, or a piece of
furniture has somehow crashed to the floor, or a car
has hit the house or whatever. Because it was so
and we couldn't figure out what might have made this noise,
I figured I'm gonna come downstairs and there's going to
be some sort of pretty serious destruction that would have
made a sound that loud, that would have shaken us
and the house. I get down stairs. I get downstairs.
Down at the bottom of the stairs is the dining room.
And I walked through the dining room, the living room.
There's a sitting room and a kitchen, and everything kind
of goes around in a little bit of a square.
I make my way from room to room, four rooms.
I get to the end of the circle, and now
I'm back in the dining room where I started. Nothing
is out of the ordinary, nothing whatsoever. I went outside
to see what created this phenomenal, crashing, thunderous sound. Nothing.
I go downstairs in the basement. Nothing. I make my
way back upstairs, and valeriees like, what was it? And
I said, I don't know. So we read about how
sometimes these old houses, and this house had been there
for a couple hundred years and it was part of
a larger complex of an estate called Seven Brooks. In
our house would have been one of the caretaker's houses.
We read that sometimes when new people acquire a property,
they will disturb the spirits who live there in that home. Wow,
since we could not find any physical manifestation of what
had happened, I mean, this just incredible noise. I really
thought something gigantic had fallen over or something, and there
was nothing. So Valerie was the more spiritual of the two,
and Pamela, my partner now, is much more spiritual than
I am. She did some research about this and that
was one of the things that she came up with,
was this kind of disturbance. So we talked about it,
and then she read about what they recommended that you do,
which is that someone should walk quietly around the house
and talk to the house, and you're basically talking to
the spirit. So whin habit this old house and explain
to them who you are and that you mean no
harm and that you intend to take good care of
the house. And I was a bit skeptical, but I
have to say that Valerie took this step and she
went around and very earnestly explained our good intentions towards
the house. All I can say is it must have worked,
because we never had another strange occurrence like that. Wow,
I don't know, Okay, maybe there's something to it.
Speaker 4: Maybe that's really cool, so you're not quite haunted house
that you still had a brush with the supernatural.
Speaker 2: And it was around this time of year we closed
in September, so it was probably October when this all
took place.
Speaker 4: Wow, Okay, that's pretty cool.
Speaker 2: Yeah, So what sort of the spooky story have you
chosen for us?
Speaker 4: We are reading the American literature classic tale of terror,
The Monkeys Paw by W. W. Jacobs, and the best
admonition that I can give as we go into this
is be careful what you wish for.
Speaker 2: I remember this story well, and I look forward to
reading it, and I hope everybody enjoys it with us.
Speaker 4: Yes, without further ado, The Monkeys Paw, Part one. Outside,
the night was cold and wet, but in the small
living room, the curtains were closed and the fire burned brightly.
Father and son were plain chest the father, whose ideas
about the game involved some very unusual moves, putting his
king into such sharp and unnecessary danger that it even
brought comment from the white haired old lady knitting quietly
by the fire. Listen to the wind, said mister white, who,
having seen a mistake that could cost him the game
after it was too late, was trying to stop his
son from seeing it. I'm listening, said the sun, seriously
studying the board as he stretched out his hand check
I should hardly think that he'll come tonight, said his father,
with his hand held in the air over the board.
Mate replied the son. That's the worst of living so
far out, cried mister White, with sudden and unexpected violence.
Of all the awful, out of the way places to
live in, this is the worst. Can't walk on the
footpath without getting stuck in the mud. The road's a river.
I don't know what the people are thinking about. I
suppose they think it doesn't matter because only two houses
in the road have people on them. Never mind, dear,
said his wife calmly. Perhaps she'll win the next one.
Mister White looked up sharply, just in time to see
a knowing look between mother and son. The words died
away on his lips, and he hid a guilty smile
in his thin gray beard. There he is, said Herbert White.
As the gate banged shut loudly and heavy footsteps came
toward the door. The old man rose quickly, and opening
the door, was heard telling the new arrival how sorry
he was for his recent loss. The new arrival talked
about his sadness, so that missus White said and coughed
gently as her husband entered the room, followed by a tall,
heavy built, strong looking man whose skin had the healthy
reddish color associated with outdoor life, and whose eyes showed
that he could be a dangerous enemy. Sergeant Major Morris,
he said, introducing him to his wife and his son, Herbert.
The sergeant major shook hands and taking the offered seat
by the fire, watched with satisfaction as mister White got
out whiskey and glasses. After the third glass, his eyes
got brighter and he began to talk. The little family
circle listened with growing interest to this visitor from distant
parts as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair
and spoke of wild scenes and brave acts of wars
and strange peoples, twenty one years of it, said mister White,
looking at his wife and son. When he went away,
he was a thin young man. Now look at.
Speaker 2: Him, he doesn't look to have taken much harm, said
missus White politely. I'd like to go to India, Mia myself,
said the old man, just to look around a bit.
You know better where you are, said the sergeant Major,
shaking his head. He put down the empty glass and,
sighing softly, shook it again. I would like to see
those old temples and fakers and the street entertainers, said
the old man. What was it that you started telling
me the other day about a monkey's paw or something, Morris, Nothing,
said the soldier quickly, at least nothing worth hearing monkey's paw,
said missus White curiously. Well it's just a bit of
what you might call magic, perhaps, said the sergeant major,
without first stopping to think. His three listeners leaned forward excitedly.
Deep in thought. The visitor put his empty glass to
his lips and then set it down again. Mister White
filled it up for him again to look at it,
said the sergeant Major, feeling about in his pocket. It's
just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy. He
took something out of his pocket and he held it
out for them. Missus White drew back with a look
of disgust, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.
And what is there special about it? Asked mister White,
as he took it from his son, and having examined it,
placed it upon the table. It had a spell put
on it by an old faker, said the sergeant Major,
a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate
ruled people's lives, and that those who tried to change
it would be sorry. He put a spell on it
so that three different men could each have three wishes
from it. The way he told the story showed that
he truly believed it, and his listeners became aware that
their light laughter was out of place and had hurt
him a little. Well, why don't you have three, sir,
said Herbert cleverly. The soldier looked at him the way
the middle aged usually look at disrespectful youth. I have,
he said quietly, and his face whitened. And did you
really have the three wishes granted? Asked missus White. I did,
said the sergeant major, and his glass tapped against his
strong teeth. And has anyone else wished? Continued the old lady.
The first man had his three wishes? Yes, was the reply.
I don't know who the first two were, but the
third was for death. That's how I got the paw.
His voice was so serious that the group fell quiet.
Speaker 4: If you've had your three wishes, it's no good to
you now, then, Morris, said the old man. At last,
what do you keep it for? The soldier shook his head. Fancy,
I suppose, he said slowly. I did have some idea
of selling it, but I don't think I will. It
has caused me enough trouble already. Besides, people won't buy.
They think it's just a story. Some of them, and
those who do think anything of it want to try
it first and pay me afterward. If you could have
another three wishes, said the old man, watching him carefully,
would you have them? I don't know, said the other.
I don't know. He took the paw, and, holding it
between his front finger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon
the fire. Mister White, with a slight cry, quickly bent
down and took it off. Better let it burn, said
the soldier, sadly, but in a way that let them
know he believed it to be true. If you don't
want it, Morris, said the other, give it to me.
I won't, said his friend, with stubborn determination. I threw
it on the fire. If you keep it, don't hold
me responsible for what happens. Throw it on the fire
like a sensible man. The other shook his head and
examined his possession closely. How do you do it, he asked,
Hold it up in your right hand and state your
wish out loud so that you can be heard, said
the Sergeant Major. But I warn you of what might happen.
Sounds like the Arabian nights, said Missus White, as she
rose and began to set the dinner. Don't you think
you might wish for four pairs of hands for me?
Her husband drew the talisman from his pocket, and all
three laughed loudly as the Sergeant Major, with a look
of alarm on his face, caught him by the arm.
If you must wish, he demanded, wish for something sensible.
Mister White dropped it back in his pocket, and, placing chairs,
motioned his friend to the table. In the business of dinner,
the talisman was partly forgotten, and afterward the three sat
fascinated as they listened to more of the soldier's adventures
in India. If the tale about the monkey's paw is
not more truthful than those he's been telling us, said Herbert,
as the door closed behind their guest, just in time
to catch the last train. We shan't make much of it.
Did you give him anything for it? Father asked Missus White,
watching her husband closely. A little, said he, coloring slightly.
He didn't want it, but I made him take it,
and he pressed me again to throw it away. No, likely,
said Herbert, with pretended horror. Why we're going to be
rich and famous and happy? Smiling, he said, wish to
be a king father to begin with. Then mother can't
complain all the time.
Speaker 2: He ran quickly around the table, chased by the laughing
missus White, armed with a piece of cloth. Mister White
took the paw from his pocket and eyed it doubtfully.
I don't know what to wish for, and that's a fact,
he said slowly. It seems to me that I've got
all I want. If you only paid off the house,
you'd be quite happy, wouldn't you, said Herbert, with his
hand on his shoulder. Well for two hundred pounds, that'll
just do it. His father, smiling with an embarrassed look
for his foolishness in believing the soldier's story, held up
the talisman. Herbert, with a serious face, spoiled only by
a quick smile to his mother, sat down and struck
a few grand cords. I wish for two hundred pounds,
said the old man. Clearly, a fine crash from the
piano greeted these words broken by a frightened cry from
the old man. His wife and son ran toward him.
It moved, He cried with a look of horror at
the object as it lay on the floor. As I
wished it twisted in my hand like a snake. Well,
I don't see the money, said his son, as he
picked it up and placed it on the table. And
I bet I never shall. It must have been your imagination, father,
said his wife, regarding him worriedly. He shook his hand,
never mind, though there's no harm done, and gave me
a shock. All the same, they sat down by the
fire again while the two men finished their pipes. Outside,
the wind was higher than ever, and the old man
jumped nervously at the sound of the door banging upstairs.
An unusual and depressing silence settled on all three, which
lasted until the old couple got up to go to bed.
I expect you'll find the cash tied up in a
big bag in the middle of your bed, said Herbert
as he wished them good night. And something horrible sitting
on top of your wardrobe, watching you as you pocket
your ill gotten money. Herbert, who normally had a playful
nature and didn't like to take things too seriously. Sat
alone in the darkness, looking into the dying fire. He
saw faces in it, the last so horrible and so monkeylike,
that he stared at it in amazement. It became so
clear that, with a nervous laugh, he felt on the
table for a glass containing some water to throw over it.
His hand found the monkey's paw, and with a little
shake of his body, he wiped his hand on his
coat and went up to bed.
Speaker 4: Art two. In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning,
as it streamed over the breakfast table, he laughed at
his fears. The room felt as it always had, and
there was an air of health and happiness which was
not there the previous night. The dirty, dried up little
paw was thrown on the cabinet with a carelessness which
indicated no great belief in what good it could do.
I suppose all old soldiers are same, said missus White.
The idea of our listening to such nonsense? How could
wishes be granted in these days? And if they could,
how could two hundred pounds hurt you? Father might drop
on his head from the sky, said Herbert Morris, said
that things happened so naturally, said his father, that you might,
if you so wish, not see the relationship. Well, don't
break into the money before I come back, said Herbert,
as he rose from the table to go to work.
I'm afraid it'll turn you into a mean, greedy old man,
and we shall have to tell everyone that we don't
know you. His mother laughed, and, following him to the door,
watched him go down the road, and returning to the
breakfast table, she felt very happy the expense of her
husband's readiness to believe such stories, all of which did
not prevent her from hurrying to the door of the
postman's knock, nor when she found that the post brought
only a bill talking about how sergeant majors can develop
bad drinking habits after they leave the army. Herbert will
have some more of his funny remarks, I expect when
he comes home, she said, as sat at dinner. I know,
said mister White, pouring himself out some beer. But for
all that the thing did move in my hand that
I'll swear to you thought it did, said the old lady,
trying to calm him. I say it did, replied the other.
There was no thought about it. I had just what's
the matter? His wife made no reply. She was watching
the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, looking in
an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to be trying
to make up his mind to enter in mental connection
with the two hundred pounds. She noticed that the stranger
was well dressed and wore a silk hat of shiny newness.
Three times he stopped briefly at the gate and then
walked on again. The fourth time he stood with his
hand upon it, and then, with sudden firmness of mind,
pushed it open and walked up the path. Missus White,
at the same moment, placed her hands behind her, hurriedly
untied the strings of her apron and put it under
the cushion of her chair. She brought the stranger, who
seemed a little uncomfortable into the room. He looked at
her in a way that said there was something about
his purpose that he wanted to keep secret, and seemed
to be thinking of something else. As the old lady said,
she was very sorry for the appearance of the room
and her husband's coat, which he usually wore in the garden.
She then waited as patiently as her sex would permit
for him to state his business, but he was at
first strangely silent. I was asked to call, he said
at last, and bent down and picked a piece of
cotton from his trousers. I come from maw and Meghan's.
The old lady jumped suddenly as an alarm. Is anything
the matter? She asked, breathlessly. Has anything happened to Herbert?
What is it? Her husband spoke before he could answer.
There there, mother, he said, hurriedly, Sit down, and don't
jump to a conclusion. You've not brought bad news. I'm sure, sir,
and eyed the other, expecting that it was bad news,
but hoping he was wrong.
Speaker 2: I'm sorry, began the visitor. Is he hurt? Demanded the
mother wildly. The visitor lowered and raised his head once
in agreement. Badly hurt, he said quietly. But he is
not in any pain. Oh, thank God, said the old woman,
pressing her hands together tightly. Thank God for that. Thank
She broke off as the tragic meaning of the part
about him not being in pain came to her. The
man had turned his head slightly so as not to
look directly at her, but she saw the awful truth
in his face. She caught her breath, and, turning to
her husband, who did not yet understand the man's meaning,
laid her shaking hand on his. There was a long silence.
He was caught in the machinery, said the visitor at length,
in a low voice. Caught in the machinery, repeated mister White,
too shocked to think clearly. Yes, He sat, staring out
the window, and taking his wife's hand between his own,
pressed it, as he used to do when he was
trying to win her love in the time before they
were married, nearly forty years before. He was the only
one left to us, he said, turning gently to the visitor,
It is hard. The other coughed, and rising, walked slowly
to the window. The firm wishes me to pass on
their great sadness about your loss, he said, without looking around.
I ask that you please understand that I am only
their servant and simply doing what they told me to do.
There was no reply. The old woman's face was white,
her eyes staring, and her breath unheard. On her husband's
face was a look such as his friend the Sergeant Major,
might have carried into his first battle. I was to
say that Maw and Meghan's accept no responsibility, continued the other.
But although they don't believe they have a legal requirement
to make a payment to you for your loss, in
view of your son's services, they wished to present you
with a certain sum. Mister White dropped his wife's hand, and,
rising to his feet, stared with a look of horror
at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words how much?
Two hundred pounds was the answer? Without hearing his wife's scream,
the old man smiled weakly, put out his hands like
a blind man, and fell a senseless mass to the floor.
Speaker 4: Part three. In the huge new cemetery some two miles away,
the old people buried their dead and came back to
the house, which was now full of shadows and silence.
It was all over so quickly that at first they
could hardly realize it, and remained in a state of
waiting for something else to happen, something else which was
to lighten this load too heavy for old hearts to bear.
But the days passed and they realized that they had
to accept the situation, the hopeless acceptance of the old
Sometimes they hardly said a word to each other, for
now they had nothing to talk about, and their days
were long to tiredness. It was about a week after
that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched
out his hand and found himself alone. The room was
in darkness, and he could hear the sound of his
wife crying quietly at the window. He raised himself in
bed and listened. Come back, he said, tenderly, you'll be cold.
It's colder for my son, said the old woman, who
began crying again. The sounds of crying died away on
his ears. The bed was warm, his eyes heavy with sleep.
He slept lightly at first, and then was fully asleep
until a sudden wild cry from his wife woke him up.
With a stone, the paw, she cried wildly, the monkey's paw.
He stared up in alarm. Where where is it? What's
the matter? She almost fell as she hurried across the
room toward him. I want it, she said, quietly. You've
not destroyed it. It's in the living room, on the
shelf above the fireplace. He replied, why. She cried and
laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek. I only
just thought of it, she said. Why didn't I think
of it before? Why didn't you think of it, Think
of what, he questioned, The other two wishes, she replied quickly.
We've only had one. Was not that enough, he demanded angrily, No,
she cried excitedly. We'll have one more. Go down and
get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again. The
man sat up in bed and threw the blankets from
his shaking legs. Good God, you are mad, he cried,
Struck with horror. It she said, breathing quickly, Get it quickly,
and wish, Oh, my boy, my boy. Her husband struck
a match and lit the candle. Get back to bed,
he said, his voice shaking. You don't know what you're saying.
We had the first wish granted, said the old woman desperately.
Why not the second? A coincidence, said the old man.
Go get it and wish, cried his wife, shaking with excitement.
Speaker 2: The old man turned and looked at her, and his
voice shook. He has been dead ten days. And besides,
he I could not tell you before, but I could
only recognize him by his clothing. If he was too
terrible for you to see, then how now bring him back,
cried the old woman, and pulled him towards the door.
Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?
He went down in the darkness and felt his way
to the living room, and then to the fireplace. The
talisman was in its place on the shelf, and then
a horrible fear came over him that the unspoken wish
might bring the broken body of his son before him
before he could escape from the room. He caught his
breath as he found that he had lost direction of
the door. His forehead cold with sweat, he felt his
way round the table and along the walls, until he
found himself at the bottom of the stairs with the
evil thing in his hand. Even his wife's face seemed
changed as he entered the room. It was white and expectant,
and to his fears, seemed to have an almost unnatural
look upon it. He was afraid of her wish, she
cried in a strong voice. It is foolish and wicked,
he said weakly. Wish, repeated his wife. He raised his hand,
I wish my son alive again. The talisman fell to
the floor, and he looked at it fearfully. Then he
sank into a chair, and the old woman with burning eyes,
walked to the window and opened the curtains. He sat
until he could no longer bear the cold, looking up
from time to time at the figure of his wife
staring through the window. The candle, which had almost burned
to the bottom, was throwing moving shadows around the room.
When the candle finally went out, the old man, with
an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure of the talisman,
went slowly back to his bed, and a minute afterward,
the old woman came silently and lay without movement beside him.
Neither spoke, but lay silently listening to the ticking of
the clock. They heard nothing else other than the normal
night sounds. The darkness was depressing, and after lying for
some time building up his courage, the husband took the
box of matches and, lighting one, went downstairs for another candle.
At the foot of the stairs, the match went out,
and he stopped to light another. At the same moment,
a knock sounded on the front door. It was so
quiet that it could only be heard downstairs, as if
the one knocking wanted to keep their coming a secret.
The matches fell from his hand. He stood motionless, not
even breathing, until the knock was repeated. Then he turned
and ran quickly back up to his room and closed
the door behind him. A third knock sounded through the house.
What's that, cried the old woman, sitting up quickly. A rat,
said the man, shakily. A rat. It passed me on
the stairs.
Speaker 4: His wife sat up in bed, listening. A loud knock
echoed through the house. It's a Herbert, she screamed, it's
a Herbert. She ran to the door, but her husband
was there before her, and, catching her by the arm,
held her tightly. What are you going to do, he
asked in a low, scary voice. It's my boy, it's Herbert,
she cried, struggling automatically. I forgot it was two miles away.
What are you holding me for? Let go? I must
open the door for God's sake. Don't let it in,
cried the old man, shaking with fear. You're afraid of
your own son, she cried, struggling. Let me go. I'm coming, Herbert,
I'm coming. There was another knock, and another. The old woman,
with a sudden pull, broke free and ran from the room.
Her husband followed to the top of the stairs and
called after her. As she hurried down, he heard the
chain pulled back and the bottom lock open. Then the
woman's voice, desperate and breathing heavily the top lock. She
cried loudly, come down, I can't reach it. But her
husband was on his hands and knees, feeling around wildly
on the floor in search of Pa, Pa, if only
he could find it before the thing outside got in.
The knocks came very quickly, now echoing through the house,
and he heard the noise of his wife moving a
chair and putting it down against the door. He heard
the movement of the lock as she began to open it,
and at the same moment he found the monkey's paw
and frantically breathed his third and last wish. The knocking
stopped suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in
the house. He heard the chair pulled back and the
door opened. A cold wind blew up the staircase, and
a long loud cry of disappointment and pain from his
wife gave him the courage to run down to her
side and then to the gate. The street light opposite
shone on a quiet and deserted road.
Speaker 2: The end, Wow, I forgot how spooky bad kids at
the end. It's a good story, It really is a
wonderful story.
Speaker 4: That is a great story. We hope that you've enjoyed
this telling of the monkeys paw by W. W. Jacobs.
Thank you so much for listening to this episode of
mind Over Murder. We'll see you next time.
Speaker 1: Mind Over Murder is a production of Absolute Zero and
Another Dog Productions.
Speaker 2: Our executive producers are Bill Thomas and Kristin Dilley.
Speaker 1: Our logo art is by Pamela Arnois.
Speaker 2: Our theme music is by Kevin McLoud.
Speaker 1: Mind Over Murder is distributed in partnership with Coral Space Media.
Speaker 2: You can follow us on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram.
Speaker 1: You can also follow our page on the Colonial Parkway
Murders on Facebook.
Speaker 2: And finally, you can follow Bill Thomas on Twitter at
Bill Thomas five six.
Speaker 1: Thank you for listening to mind Over Murder.