The Murder – Snifty Clue Post 05/08/18
When they’d all arrived earlier in the evening, Joseph had wondered about the strange gathering of people. It was like a collection of cast-offs from an adaptation of Murder on the Orient express. The hotel owner had greeting him on the steps of the Villa and said he was the last but one to arrive. She was a strange one. Ms Geraldine Cooper, who presumably had arranged the Murder weekend looked so dull and grey that it didn’t seem possible that such a fun idea could have ever occurred to her.
When he was escorted into the drawing room he had felt even more out of place. He recognised the rather short man standing by the mantelpiece. It was Charles Maxwell-Murdoch, a newspaper baron of particularly unpleasant disposition who seemed too often pictured in his own papers. He supposed that the smart and demure lady standing by him was his wife, Patricia.
A tall man who looked like your typical butler fussed over the newspaper magnate, he introduced himself as Harvey Dearman, Mr Maxwell-Murdoch’s personal valet.
A gorgeous creature, dressed in a figure hugging red gown, sashayed over to him, smiling. She leaned close to him, her long blonde hair falling over her left eye and introduced herself to him as Miss Lola Ginatonica. She was widely reported in those few newspapers that were not owned by Charles Maxwell-Murdoch, as his mistress. She lifted up a long cigarette holder with an unlit cigarette in it and in sultry tones asked “Do you have a light?”
He lit it for her and she blew smoke in his face, gave him a dark look and then sauntered over to a wicker chair and sat down in it languorously.
He decided to sit down in one of the other chairs and smiled impudently at them.
The owner came back into the room leading the final guest, a tall and stately lady, expensively attired, who had the outward appearance of a particularly bad tempered queen. She walked in carrying her handbag over one arm and gripped a cane with her other hand rather like an axe-murderer grips the axe. She walked over to the young man and demanded he give up his seat for her. Which, rather reluctantly, he did.
Then casting an imperious eye around the room, looked appalled to see Charles Maxwell-Murdoch standing not very far away. “What are YOU doing here?” She exclaimed in high tones “I will never forgive you for what you did to my Sister. You hear me? Never.”
Mr. Maxwell-Murdoch went rather red and announced to the whole room “Alicia Van Schlumph is under the strange impression that I had something to do with my first wife, Abigail’s, death.”
“I certainly do. I am sure of it.” She shouted.
Joseph couldn’t help let out a laugh. He felt he’d been transported into a melodrama. They were just the last sort of people he would expect to want to take part in a murder mystery weekend. When they all turned and looked at him he asked them why they’d decided to take part. The oddest thing was that they said they didn’t know what he was talking about?
Joseph Ingrams stood at the top of the stairs. He looked so smart and handsome in his black dinner jacket. A rather surprised expression marred his good look, wiping the usual sardonic smile from his face as he looked down at the body at the foot of the stairs
Mrs Maxwell-Murdoch stood nearby a look of horror on her rather ordinary face.
Next to a vase of flowers on the landing was a small blue glass bottle, lying on its side and labelled ‘poison’.
As Joseph walked down the stairs towards the body of Mr. Maxwell-Murdoch he almost tripped over a hammer that had been carelessly dropped on the stairs.
Before he arrived at the body, the Valet, Harvey Dearman, ran past him and collapsed next to the body crying. “No, you can’t be dead, you can’t be!” A corkscrew fell out of his trouser pocket as he cried, inconsolably.
The door to the Kitchen opened and the austere figure of the owner, Ms Cooper came into the hall clasping a fire poker. She stood there looking grim. On the landing Lady Alicia Van Schlumph face appeared grinning. Both exclaimed “Justice!” one quietly, the other triumphantly.
Lola Ginatonica hang back in the shadows under the stairs, Joseph saw her bend down, pick up a pair of scissors from the floor and place them into her evening bag. He also noticed in the umbrella stand, poking out was the handle of a breadknife.
The body was contorted and blood seeped out over the tiles.
As Joseph Ingrams gazed down at it, he couldn’t contain himself any longer; he threw back his head and laughed like a demon possessed.
Who Is The Victim?
Where Were They Found?
But Who Is Guilty?
How Did They Do It?
What Was Their Motive?
What Was Their Murder Weapon?
Now, at our own concession we have given you quite a few clues here, some blatantly obvious and so at the very least two of the questions can be answered very swiftly indeed!
However, from this point onwards you will be on your own!