“Gus, what the heck is a ‘Hitchcock Divorce?'” asked Olaf. They stood on the sidewalk, enjoying the crisp Minnesota air.

“It’s like those old short stories that Alfred Hitchcock would publish. Nobody divorced their wife in those tales; why would you wanna lose half your stuff? Instead, the guy would just push her down the stairs.”

Olaf frowned. It couldn’t be. Gus complained about his wife a lot, but everyone did from time to time. “Where’s your wife?”

Gus smiled. “Bottom of the stairs in the basement.”

“Dammit Gus, the thing with those short stories is they end early! And most the time, the guy gets caught! Now what’s your plan?”

“You and me crack open a couple of beers and bury her in the back yard.”

“The ground’s not gonna thaw until May!”

“Well, I guess I should get a freezer…”

“Geez, Gus, you’ve made a real big mess, don’tcha know! I need to make a phone call.”

About an hour later Mr. Ashta pulled up in a generic-looking pickup truck. He was tall and dark-skinned, but otherwise blended in with the jeans and flannel of the town. “Why don’t you gentlemen enjoy a beer on the front porch while I take care of your problem.”

Olaf and Gus drank their Bud Lights while Mr. Ashta worked inside.

“What do you suppose he’s doing?” Gus said.

“He wouldn’t say. But he did say your problem would be completely solved. It’s 600, by the way. I don’t need it all back right now, but I can trust you, right?”

“Yup.” That was sticker shock, but Gus was smart enough not to complain.

About 30 minutes later, Mr. Ashta came outside. “You are all set.”

While Olaf counted out the money, Gus asked, “What did you do?”

Mr. Ashta smiled. “Your problem was a dead woman in your own house. Now she is not dead. In fact, she cannot die anymore, except under a set of very specific circumstances, which I’m not going to tell you, as you have a demonstrated history of trying to kill your wife.”

Gus didn’t even respond to the insult. He was speechless.

“Her neck is still broken; that will eventually heal, but it will take a while. Your first order of business should be to help her back upstairs. However, my work is done, and what you do from here is not my concern. Good day.”

Mr. Ashta collected the money, got back in his truck, and drove away.