I see your “Cousin Intruder” theories and raise you… Aunt Serial Killer.
Debbie learns the hard way that killing the Addams’ Family is damn near impossible. With a few failed electric shocks and some talking down it finally dawns on her how much she and the family have in common and she agrees to move in. Sure she has wildly different tastes than they do, but who are they to judge? They build a room just for her: white and frilly and lavishly decorated but painfully, painfully normal. The family cringes every time they’re forced to see it… but they love her, so they’ll endure. It’s shocking how little her attempted homicide bothers them… even Fester is amicable about the divorce! He moves on. Things are peaceful.
She has money, no husband to scheme against, and she doesn’t even have to work! It’s everything she always wanted! But she gets restless. For the first time in her life, Debbie almost feels bad for taking someone else’s money. But the only way she knows of making fast money is… Hm.
The first one she brings home is a rumored rapist. “So soon?” asks Morticia with a knowing smile. Debbie doesn’t answer. Sure enough, they’re married on the first of June. He’s dead before the 4th of July.
Next is a pedophile. He was taken to court, but escaped unscathed thanks to the best lawyers money can buy! Such a shame that he would drown in his own bathtub. Seems such a mundane way to go. (And his ghost didn’t stick around to haunt them… how rude.)
And so it goes. A corrupt politician. A scummy playboy. A bigot. They’re not all men. Sometimes she can’t convince them to marry her. That’s fine. As it turns out, forging a will is a lot easier than Debbie ever dreamed!
The string of murders is investigated, but you just can’t catch an Addams! The family stands by their own. How could she have caused her (crimelord) husband’s suicide, officer? He was on ‘business’ in Hawaii while she was with them celebrating Christmas! And if the officers don’t mention the voodoo doll sitting in plain view by her vanity, well… you can’t blame them for that. It’s got too many pins in it to recognize the man.
Everyone receives extravagant gifts from Aunt Debbie that year.
And maybe, as time passes, her tastes begin to… shift. She’s still not the same as them, but she receives so many gifts from her new family! Every marriage is treated as if it will be the last no matter how many times they celebrate it. Poor Debbie could never disappoint them by disposing of a gift… so she incorporates them among her own items. Her room is still pink and white and draped with satins and silks. But maybe now there’s a few skulls here and there, some black bows, an antique rug. A ouija board left out on the desk. A lovely collection of antique, ritualistic knives in a display case.
And maybe she still dresses like a homewrecker when she’s on the prowl, but there’s always something… a little off. Not enough to be suspicious. A spider brooch? Why, that was a wedding gift from her sister. Isn’t it lovely? A necklace of carved bone beads? From her late husband, bless his soul! Something to remember him by. (And if the bones are human, how would they know?) Dagger earrings? “Oh, these? My niece gave them to me. You know how teenagers are!”
Anyone who questions her need only meet her family to be convinced that she is the least likely person in that household to commit such crimes.
Until one day she brings home someone different. Someone without money or fame. “My dearest, most demented Deborah!” says the family. “This one must have committed some truly horrid crime for you to break from your tradition!”
“Oh, yes. They have stolen my heart.”
“Despicable! Insidious! Are you going to kill them?”
“Oh,” says Debbie. “I think I will.
But not for a very long time.”
