Hello, and welcome to my favorite murder, the Mini.

So that's right, it's the one where we read your emails.

We're going to do it now again again, and now.

When you start, I'm not going to read you this afterect.

Okay, it's a fun reveal.

It starts out, Hello, Karen, Georgia and pets.

So it turns out I spent part of my childhood in an apartment with a corpse in the attic.

What okay?

Starting strong?

So it says before we begin, I just need to say that my granny had nothing to do with this.

It just happened at the small housing complex where she lived before she moved in, and it came to light after her death.

It also brought the little ex mining village in Wales.

I would pronounce it Bidoo because that's b ed d Au and it says in parentheses pronounced Bathig.

Of course, how would you guess that.

If there's any place that needs a spell it like you say it, it's Wales.

Oh yeah, baith Eyed High School.

Bath School, go Baythide.

This case brought the town of Baithi, Wales, to the attention of the whole world.

My granny died back in twenty fifteen, and she had been living in a council block of four flats for older people for fifteen years since being widowed.

Her upstairs neighbor was a younger woman called Lee, whose husband had quote left her before my granny moved in.

Lee had been really helpful to my granny when she was ill, so when Lee became seriously ill with cancer, my mother and father helped her out, as she didn't have a family, or so we thought.

When she died, my mother struggled to register her death because her next of kin was still listed as her husband, who we all thought had left her before we knew her.

Fast forward to a month after Lee's funeral, in which my mother said, we all heard so many different stories from Lee, but only God and Lee know who she really was.

She was saying that in the best way possible, and then it says, oh, how prophetic.

My dad told me that the police had found a body in the shared garden where my granny had lived.

I jokingly asked if it was Lee's husband, and my dad just nodded and said that my mother was being interviewed by the police.

Oh my god, she thinks she's being funny.

Yeah, oh is Lee's husband.

He's like, actually, yes, don't ask questions.

You don't want the answers too.

Yeah, you don't want the affirmative answers to turns out, the three years before my granny moved in in nineteen ninety seven, during a row with her husband, Lee hit him in the head with a ceramic frog and killed him.

The shape of the frog perfectly matched the hole in his skull.

She then wrapped him up in plastic and put him in the attic.

He was chemically mummified there, and there were fifty layers of wrapping incline, leading, plastic bags, tarps, and roofing plastic.

Sorry, can we go back?

She kept the ceramic frog that she used to kill her husband.

She must have because they either had it or they had to buy a replica.

Right, Okay, go on, I mean if she killed.

Him, yeah, she's like, I really love this frog, yeah, or I really love that I did this yeah, I mean okay, anytime he started to smell, she added another layer.

He was up there for eighteen years.

Wow.

She was still claiming his Korean War pension this whole time.

Okay, here we go.

The plastic package, the body was in was found under a bench in the shared garden by the woman who moved into my granny flat when she was clearing a corner of the garden to make a memorial for Lee.

We think Lee broke her leg moving the body to the garden, and that's how she found out she had cancer and was dying, and how my mother started caring for her.

So this is a perfectly laid out horror movie.

Yeah, the like thinking backness of it all.

Yeah, I'm so glad my dad and my uncle were too busy to help her quote get something from the attic when she asked.

They were in meshed in this woman's life.

God.

And then it just ends with stay sexy and don't help Granny's neighbors move suspicious packages l from South Wales, UK.

Wow.

You have to imagine, and I've always thought about this.

There has to be at least a couple dozen people in the world who have unknown bodies in their place of residence.

Yes, right, absolutely, If.

She doesn't remember the barrel Bear Creek, No, the one where they found a barrel under the house.

Oh yes, in the basement, yes, yes.

And like went back a few owners and it turned out he had killed her.

Yeah, like, there's got to be a few to hope it's not mine.

I thought you were going to say, there's got to be people out there who have helped a killer do something unknowingly to ate it in a bed it.

Yeah, there are so many things out in the world.

Ye, mine is called wolf in Sheep's Clothing.

Hi, I'm listening to minnesod four forty four where you ask for wolf in Sheep's Clothing story.

Oh okay, and now my time has finally come.

My family and I spent most of the aughts two thousands, says in a seemingly quintessential small town.

I have fond memories of summer days spent at the public pool, where my mom, a teacher at the time, would bake in the sun while my brother and I swam for hours.

Yes, the evenings were spent just eating dinner on the back porch, followed by a game of woo football.

Unfortunately, these games often turned into my dad and whoever it was over at the time, taking turns batting, while my brother and I were sent to wait in the neighbor's yard on the other side of the fence to catch the balls.

It was agonizing as an eight year old who just learned how to bat without a tea.

But I digress.

On one occasion, our youth pastor came over for one of these legendary evenings.

This was a normal occurrence as my dad was the pastor at our church.

Rather than cook, my parents ordered wings from our local shop.

About midway through our meal, I look up at our guest and see this man, all caps covered in wing sauce.

The sauce covered at least two inches around his mouth and coated everythinger past his knuckles.

I remember being mesmerized and horrified by this man.

How could this happen?

Didn't it bother him?

Where was his napkin?

Something about that struck a nerve in my eight year old body, and I never trusted him again, which I totally understand.

Like people who eat like barbecue and just get it everywhere.

I couldn't live with myself.

It's one thing to do that by yourself at home watching TV alone, but like in a restaurant, that eight year old was exactly right.

Yeah, like, are you kidding me?

Where?

You're just like, I just don't care what people thinks.

Well, flash forward to twenty eighteen I'm chatting with my mom about this absurd memory when she goes you know it's wild.

You mentioned not trusting him because we found out later that he was paying women for sex at the local college.

Oh that's right.

One day, my mom was sitting at the lunch table at school and some student teachers started talking about him and how he pays their friends for sex.

Needless to say, he was quickly fired from his role as youth pastor and sent to therapy.

I feel like they should maybe just fire all the youth pastors and start with a clean slate, because I can't.

It's just all I see are bad stories.

About that and anyone who like, any man who like asks to be a pastor.

No, it has to go to someone who doesn't want to do it.

It's too humble y.

Yes, another crazy coincidence.

Our masked town flasher suddenly stopped terrorizing young women once this man left town.

Oh shit, my mom thinks it was him.

She's correct.

Love you both.

You've been alongside me through thyroid cancer, six years in remission yay, and the births of my three wonderful, insane children.

Thank you for all you do.

Stay sexy and don't trust a messy wing eater.

M M.

You must have the kind of confidence of a person who's a true visionary where you're just like as a child.

Yeah, I spotted the town perf.

You're not even doing like anything.

Mean, it's just like this is not an okay move for an adult.

And yes, I'm suspicion, Yes, love it.

The vibe is wrong, vis wrong Yeah, okay.

This was the subject line of this email is a tale of two Tony's, it says high there.

So I've got a story about the coincidence of coincidences.

Years ago in the nineties, my mom needed her car worked on, which seems like the norm for that time.

Yeah, remember back when cars broke down and you had to take them to the mechanic all the time, and you.

Had your mechanic and you were his friend.

Yeah, my auntie referred her to a family friend who happened to be a mechanic named Tony and who worked out of his garage.

This also seemed like the norm for the time, where you always saved money on car repairs by going to someone's home.

Yep, my dad's friend, Duke's son fixed our car for years, amazing.

Any who for whatever reason, my mom used the phone book to get Tony's address while my auntie set up the appointment to drop the car off again.

This was the nineties, so I don't remember if people were just way more discreet with information, but my auntie likely referred her to the phone book for his address.

WELP, the time came and we, my thirtyish year old mom and her two young children went to Tony's house.

Nothing was amiss until one hour turned into four hours later and we were still waiting for my auntie to pick us up.

My mom tried calling multiple times using Tony's landline and left increasingly desperate messages.

When my Auntie finally answered, she was frantic and asked where the hell we were and that we were supposed to be at Tony's house hours ago.

Confused, my mom told her that we were at Tony's house, but no, no, no, we weren't because she was at Tony's house.

We had a memento moment before memento was even a thing, and went in circles putting the pieces together.

Apparently we stumbled upon a glitch in the matrix where two Tonys existed with the same exact name.

And who work on cars from their homes.

That's wild.

Now.

My mom had never spoken to this imposter Tony, nor was there any indication that he was a mechanic in the phone book.

But when we showed up with our brokeass car, he and his family welcome vested into their home with no questions.

Had I love it?

Okay, someone must have agreed to this.

They let us play with their dog for four hours and assured us the car would be fixed.

What a lovely family I know.

When all was finally revealed, everyone had a good laugh, and imposter Tony insisted on repairing our car.

Oh my god, he still wanted to do it and he knew how.

Yeah, exactly, Thank God.

Thinking back, we got very lucky that it worked out better than anyone could have imagined.

I mean, at best, Tony could have just been a regular schmo who had no idea what the hell we were doing at his house, And at worst, he could have been a murderer waiting for an unsuspecting family to come along, the laziest murderer ever.

To When someone gets here, I'll take care.

Of it, yeah, But until that time, I'm just gonna.

Yeah this lazy cars lazy boy isn't do my thing?

Yeah, or and I imagine this often, what if imposter Tony and his family thought we were the craze murderers masquerading as a humble family in need of car repairs.

It's like one of those upside down ferry where we terrorize this poor family for four hours with our lives of someone is coming to pick us up.

It will be just another ten minutes hours.

It's so embarrassing.

That's how I lived my entire childhood, of being at someone's house and they're like, well, we're starting dinner.

You can sit in the living room if you want to.

Mom's not here yet.

Yeah, they'll be here soon.

Poor things just wanted to sit down to dinner and get on with their lives.

That's the story.

Just a crazy set of coincidences fostered by the lack of communication in the nineties.

I guess who the fuck knows?

Love you guys and can't wait to see you when you come to Denver SSDGM caris yay.

I know that's the first can't wait to see you that we've gotten in an email.

Exciting Okay, World War two, puppy stowaways and attic treasures.

This one's called Hi all, longtime listener, first time writer.

First, thank you for getting me through the pandemic.

I'm a healthcare worker, and while not on the front lines, I went to work every day hoping my immunal compromised patients would survive and desperately trying to convince that to wear a mask.

Sorry, how is that not being on the front lines.

You don't you're there, you don't have to be in the emergency room.

Righth MFM was a consistent place I could go to laugh and commiserate.

Thank you so much.

Oh that's nice.

I've listened to episode four eighty six about Smoky, the Yorky World War II hero dog, where you wondered if people snuok pets when they went to war.

We wondered that.

You know, I love to just throw in some conjecture when you're trying to tell a story.

Yes, my part, and the short answer is yes, yay.

The long answer is.

In twenty fourteen, after my grandpa passed, we went through my mom's family home and in the attic we found boxes of magazines, clippings, photos, camp papers, and other artifacts spanning my grandpa's military service in World War Two.

This includes over five hundred letters he wrote to my grandma from induction and training to the Pacific Theater, and finally occupied Japan's five hundred.

He was salty about being drafted, but he did the best he could and managed to keep his sense of humor.

The letters are funny, sarcastic, sometimes devastating, but always end with his love and devotion to my grandma.

Well, going through it all, I found a photo of someone who had snuck a puppy in a boat going to the Pacific.

I guess, ultimately, what were they going to do about it?

Nothing like a puppy to boost morale.

They just brought a puppy on into war, into war on a ship.

They also traveled with a sanctioned regiment mascot, a dog named Murphy, and a division mascot, a live all caps bobcat.

What yes's name Tuffie.

That's a good name.

Our second dog.

We had a dog named Muggsy who had a puppy and we named the puppy Toffy.

It's so funny.

They were the eighty first Infantry Division Wildcats.

That doesn't excuse anything.

How do you train or even slightly controlled.

These guy's like, can you put me back in the wild please?

I don't want to be in war and at the zoo at the worst, but not the South Pacific, Like.

Mascots are supposed to be drawings, not actual And then it says, oh the forties of it all.

Yeah, that's right, oh shameless plug.

My friend Carson, also a big MFM fan, and I have decided to read the letters on a podcast.

It's called five Hundred Letters to Nana and it will start August twenty twenty five.

Cue.

Yeah.

We keep saying to each other bigger idiots than you as we press forward with this project.

Also thanks to Georgia's Nana.

Oh yeah, thanks again for snapping me out of it on some dark days.

Love to you and all your morale boosting pets.

Katie.

Hell yeah, five hundred Letters to Nana.

Go listen, We'll support your local murderino.

I think that's such a great idea.

I would love to hear those letters totally.

That's so exciting.

That's really awesome.

They're going to be doing a podcast for ten years too.

Buckle the fuck fun.

You can't end that podcast before they find out how they get out of that fucking war.

Oh, I know what's going to happen?

Okay, this.

When I read this email, I was like, this might be it in terms of people reaching out and giving us some information, telling us that our own personal story better.

Than a snail eating green means.

I mean, it's just it's all the scale of how you live your life.

The subject line of this is a fishy client.

Hey you guys.

It could be hey, you guys, maybe a lot of Essa's.

I'm writing in after hearing Karen describe how her dad had a fish tank that took way too much effort to care for.

Turns out that's my whole thing.

I am the curator of aquatic husbandry at the aquarium.

Wow.

Huge, Yeah, I've had a storied career as a shark wrangler, jellyfish breeder, an octopus playmate.

What I already love you?

Oh so much?

What a life to live.

I used to say I wanted to be a marine biologist because it sounded conceptually interesting as a.

Child, got to play with a fucking octopus or wrangle a shark.

Oh my god.

Okay, but those aren't the stories I'm here to tell you.

I'm here to tell you about one of my side hustles when I was living in the Virgin Islands taking care of fish tanks at various businesses.

Love that too, one of which was in a financial office, where I initially felt bad about overcharging them.

That is, until I look down at a baseball hat sitting on the desk of my client and it read Little Saint james An Island otherwise known by the locals as Pedophile Island.

No, yeah, ready, I first thought, who in their right mind would have a hat bragging about visiting that island.

Then it hit me like a wave as I stared at the giant portraits plastering the walls of young girls that I had assumed were my client's daughters.

I was standing in Jeffrey Epstein's actual office.

We're gonna, We're gonna get we can't.

I'm sorry.

This isn't sane, right, right, Yeah, this is the kind of email I've been waiting for.

Shit.

Now, I'm going to just break right here, right now, listener and say, hey, we can't verify our emails, right, nor do we?

It sounds legit.

Someone's got to clean the fish tank of people's business, and.

There's a large trust factor in the whole Minnieso concept, which there's really no reason not to trust people.

Usually we can kind of suss out if someone sounds like they're making up a story, I believe them.

That's when I started to notice the odd details about the building, like where there were and weren't cameras, and that his office locked from both the inside and the outside.

Ah, these are details that sometimes we don't notice in the day to day, but we should.

Suddenly, overcharging him didn't seem like such a bad idea, because fuck that guy.

After that, whenever I came in to clean the fish tank and the boss was in, I always opted to come back a different day.

Holy shit.

In the end, my services were no longer required when he was arrested.

And yes, we did take a boat out there to watch the FBI raid Pedophile Island.

This person is a firsthand if they are true in these alleged claims, They're a first person witnessed to all of that shit.

Oh, it was a wild Mostly I wanted to see if the rumor was true that he had a life size statue.

You have a cow, which was someone's job to move around the island occasionally.

Anyway, they they don't confirm it anyway.

I hope this gets read that y'all are having a fantastic day.

A girl can dream, stay sexy, and always figure out who you're working for.

Best fishes, Caroline.

Caroline, let's hang out immediately?

And how am I?

The whole time I was like, how do I follow this?

How do I follow this?

I have one more?

I can't follow this.

I know you feel follow me.

Caroline brought us like hot breaking, major worldwide news goss.

So it's just a different thing.

Wild amazing kids stay in school and become a marine biologist.

That's right.

I'm not going to reach you the title.

Hello Georgia, Karen and all the MFM Furrey friends and family.

Your podcast has brought me so much joy over the years, so I'll start this story off with a big thank you.

You've made subway rides, long car trips, plane rides, and dog walks all bearable.

Okay, So the story begins in my hometown of Bright's Grove, Ontario, Canada.

Ever heard of it?

I didn't think so.

Bright's Grove.

I was fifteen or sixteen years old, just finishing my tenth or eleventh year of high school.

I don't remember slash can't do the math, and needed my own income to supply myself with copious amounts of vanilla and lemon flavored vodka.

And it says I literally winced while writing that for the summer.

Ahead, vanilla vodka is really upsetting me.

Right now, I accidentally ordered a drink reasily with vanilla vodka, and as soon as I took a sip, I was just like transported to it year.

It was awful.

It was awful.

It's disgusting.

So every kid in my hometown either worked at one of two places, the local restaurant or the grocery store.

I was too scared of breaking change again the math, so I never applied to the restaurant and got myself a job at the grocery store's produce department.

I have it there too, Girl, you have to go have a produce department.

You're stack in banana.

I should just like yeah, no math.

The jobs were broken down by department.

Most of my friends were hired to work in the bakery or at the front till well, I was blessed with a job of stalking fruits and veggies, perhaps the easiest of the departments, or so I thought, I bet there's like a little customer service that goes along with that, for sure, you know.

Which you have to help people pick ripe things.

I bet there's not a lot of people.

Though.

I would never ask anything to a fruit person, could you.

I wouldn't never bother a fruit vegetable person.

Not unless they were like I think I did it one time because he was already doing stuff.

Yeah, and it was like, can you help me pick a ripe mango?

Okay?

My ships consisted of lifting heavy boxes full of bananas, potatoes, what have you, putting them on a wheeling cart, and stalking the shelves for anything that needed replenishing.

That's how that works.

Every so often I had to put together salads or wrap cobs of corn in a five piece package, all caps.

Truly exciting stuff.

You can bet your butts that most of my ships started with me violently hungover, sneaking off to the giant freezers to regain life, or trying not to throw up at the smell of rotting potatoes.

Literally the worst smell.

Prove me wrong.

I spent so much time in my twenties hungover and trying to make it through.

Yeah, like I have gone into a giant freezer to see if it helps for the hangover before I know that sensation.

Yeah, it does work a little bit.

I bet one of those hungover six thirty am mornings of my youth was a memorable one.

I used to stay up all night.

We'd go to a rave, I'd be on drugs, and then I'd go into the bakery that morning at six thirty bakery.

I worked at the local bakery, and I was like, I could still hear the techno in my fucking brain.

Yeah, you're just you're reverberating with the experience.

Did they know that that's what you were doing?

Or they were just like.

I mean, I was like fifteen.

I just looked great and acted great and could do anything.

I was never tired, not like now anyway.

While rinsing off romaine lettuce in the giant sinks, I noticed a spider crawling up the wall just one foot away from my head.

If I hadn't been so hungover, I would have screamed and run in the other direction, but instead I lazily grabbed the box that let us came in and smashed the spawn of Satan in to the wall.

After cleaning up the demon's remains, I noticed some familiar markings on the spider's body, all caps.

What they don't tell you when you're hired in the produce section is that you may come across tropical species that have traveled with the tropical fruit.

This is why you don't bring Costco boxes into your like you know they give those to you to pack your groceries.

Don't bring those into your house.

Because there's spiders.

Yes, yes, I wasn't shown this binder of species until I was the whole binder of species.

That's how many until I was literally holding a black widow spider in a kleenex to show my boss.

I was flinging all sorts of boxes of fruit left and right without any thought, not knowing that a friggin' scorpion could be hiding with the grapes and bananas.

Anyways, the black widow is put in a jar and saved as a reminder to any new staff that you may run into a poisonous insect while on the job, and to be mindful.

I'd like to think my hangover for allowing me to not give a fuck about a spider crawling up the wall.

Had I not had those double shots of vodka the night before.

Who knows where that spider would have ended up.

That's all stay sexy and know that the produce section may be the easiest of the jobs at the grocery store, but is also the scariest.

Adele she her.

Wow, Adele, you really lived through something.

Now here's my thing.

We had black widow spiders around a lot growing up.

I bet you did, because you had lived out in the country.

It was like barn stuff.

Yeah.

So when she was like about to describe the spider, I'm like, here we go.

It's a poisonous to Randula, It's like it's the spider you see all the time.

I barely seen one, really well.

I've seen a lot in one place, but not a lot in places.

It is really jarring when you see it and you see the little red hour glass, like it's real.

It's so scary, all that part.

Yeah, because it's just like your whole life.

You're brought up being like danger, yes, and it's there.

Yeah.

Not a fan.

We don't like danger.

Ladies and gentlemen.

We never have on this podcast, and I don't think we ever will.

But write us about your dangerous things.

That you run into.

That's the kind of danger we like.

Yes, secondhand right at my Favorite Murder at Gmail.

Thank you guys so much for listening and.

Stay sexy, don't get murdered.

Goodbye, Elvis, Do you want to cookie?

This has been an Exactly Right production.

Our senior producers are Alle Hundra Keck and Molly Smith.

Our editor is Aristotle las Veda.

This episode was mixed by Leona Scolacci.

Email your hometowns to My Favorite Murder at gmail dot com.

And follow the show on Instagram at my Favorite Murder.

Listen to My Favorite Murder on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts.

And now you can watch us on Exactly Rights YouTube page.

And while you're there, please like and subscribe.

Yiy bye bye