Murder most strange

 

Murder most strange

There were fourteen place settings. The hostess had served fish and on every plate there remained skeletons with varying amounts of flesh still clinging to them.

From her position at the head of the table, the inspector surmised that the victim was the lady of the house. Her hospitality had been poorly repaid, he mused.

It was clear that there had been a hasty exodus from the dining table. Crumpled napkins had been dropped on the floor, a couple of chairs had been knocked askew, and a wine glass had spilt its contents – red wine, the inspector observed, with snobbish distaste. Had the guests departed before or after the attack, and where were they all now?

Following his preliminary assessment of the scene, the inspector approached the body to seek further insight into the murder.  The woman, middle-aged, grey-blonde, was slumped sideways in her chair. A scarlet flower bloomed on the left side of her head, a rose of rich, dark red. The inspector swallowed hard. He had seen many such scenes before, but always the bile rose in his throat at the sickly, sweet smell.

A lemon wedge - evidently the victim had not squeezed it over her fish – was splashed with red. Her fork was smeared with crimson and – yes! There were clear fingerprints on it and on the plate. So, death had not been instantaneous. Had she grabbed the fork in a vain attempt to fight back? If so, who had replaced it so neatly, so grotesquely, next to the plate?

The inspector scratched his head and decided he’d better try to locate the rest of the party. He opened the door opposite the table and found himself in a large, square kitchen. It was crowded with people, all smartly dressed and obviously expecting him. He nodded at them, not sure what he should do next.

‘Well,’ said a tall, thin man. ‘What are your thoughts?’

A murmur of voices added, ‘Who do you suspect?’ and ‘It wasn’t me,’ and ‘Confess, Thomas.’

The inspector gazed at them and grinned suddenly. ‘It was very convincing,’ he said.

The ‘victim’ appeared behind him, smiling. ‘Sorry about the smell,’ she said. ‘I know you loathe tomato ketchup, but we had to make it look authentic. Come along now and have a stiff drink and join us for the rest of our meal.’

Everybody laughed and made their way back to the dining room. Murder Mystery dining events had become very popular recently.