When giving a lecture about the significance of punctuation,
the academic professor was interrupted and arrested by the police for murdering his wife,
a receptionist of a kindergarten.
The police found some photos he deleted from their e-album showing
that they used to have a gay life.
But, fed up with her wrinkled face,
he murdered her instead of divorcing her to avoid fortune division.
He cut up a kind of seashell with a sharpened knife,
and hammered it into powder on a skateboard,
and made at most one gram,
which was enough to accelerate one's pulse until he or she dies.
This kind of poison can date back to 10,000 BC
when people rubbed it on spears to kill beasts.
The professor mixed the poison with onion,
watermelon and yogurt for his wife.
Howling and scratching her chest,
she felt dizzy and died soon.
After tentative examination,
the police assumed she died of heart disease.
But systematic botanical analyses showed that
the watermelon spit on the messy mat and the quilt was poisonous.
Regardless of exhaustion and starvation,
the acute and skillful policemen used radioactive equipment
to make sure the category of the poison.
Primitive and not ample as their alternative equipment was,
they got perfect accuracy somehow.