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A Toast to Joseph! – Snifty Clue Post 20/08/18
Having languished in the bath for some time, Joseph Ingram’s decided it was time to go downstairs and have some fun. The sun had well and truly set and he realised that they had only had a very light dinner while waiting for the Inspector to ask his questions. He might go into the kitchen and ask for some toast, or make it himself, he was used to doing things for himself, when he was allowed.
He admired himself in the mirror, his hard jawline and aquiline nose, he probably inherited those from his Mother. He’d never known her. Those dark wide-set eyes he’d got from his father.
The muscles of his body were gently chiselled, clearly the body of a young man who kept himself active and trim.
He picked up the small bottle of his favourite aftershave, ‘Sauvage’ that meant savage in French. He laughed at that, it felt so appropriate, as he covered himself liberally with it.
He then slowly covered his nakedness. He put on a pair of dark chino’s and his red shirt, Smart but not formal, things had gone beyond formality, with two people already dead formality seemed rather obsolete.
He descended the stairs pausing at the top to glance down at where ‘his’ corpse was found. There was still evidence of blood on the tiled floor. A shiver ran through him.
Walking into the drawing room he smiled at the three assembled ladies. Lady Van Schlumph was sitting in an upright armchair wearing her fussy black lace gown. He glared at him in a most unfriendly manner. Ms Lola and Mrs Maxwell-Murdoch were seated on the Sofa. Ms Lola gave him a half smile and her darkened eye-brow arched. Patricia had a blank look on her face, it either conveyed a total lack of emotion, or someone trying to hide a deep emotional burden. Seeing as she was now a Widow, he gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed the latter. She was sitting in a stiff fashion in bare stockinged feet, her black high-heels were on the floor near-by.
Clearly, he had interrupted an interesting conversation which had abruptly stopped the minute he’d walked into the room.
Lady Van Schlumph rose gracefully, with the help of her diamond encrusted walking stick, out of the chair.
“If you will all excuse me, I am accustomed to reading a good book before bedtime. I will just see if there is anything suitable in the Library” She then walked slowly but determinedly to the Library and closed the door behind her.
Joseph sat down in the chair she had vacated.
Simultaneously Patricia Maxwell-Murdoch stood and picked up her high-heeled shoes that she held by the ankle straps.
“Oh, Please don’t go on my account. I was hoping we could have an entertaining evening” Joseph said with his most impish grin.
Patricia turned at the door to face him, some emotion finally showed on that rather plain, demure face, anger flashed in her eyes.
“Look, Mr Ingram’s, I don’t like you. Frankly, you give me the creeps. I don’t like feeling like a badger caught in a trap. I think I will be safer in my room. I am going to lock myself in and in the morning, I will leave this place. Goodnight, Mr Ingram’s, Ms Ginatonica. If I were you, my dear, I wouldn’t linger here either.”
A short figure, dressed all in black, she walked unsteadily to the stairs dangling her shoes in her right hand. Slowly she climbed them, progressed along the landing and closed the door.
Joseph Ingram’s turned to Ms Lola who was reclining on the sofa, her bright red dress matched his shirt rather well. Red, the colour of blood, the colour of danger. She was an exciting creature.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m rather famished. I’m going to ask Ms Cooper if she could prepare some toast, would you like some?” He asked the blond temptress.
“No thank you Darling, I’ve got to watch my figure” She responded while lighting a cigarette.
“Well, just you wait there and I’ll be back. We can watch it together” He responded flippantly.
As he pushed open the heavy kitchen door, he saw Ms Cooper sitting down at the table drinking a cup of tea.
“Yes, Young man, can I help you?” She had a determined set to her firm jaw. She reminded him of a hospital Matron. One of those authoritarian women who brooked no nonsense. She rather made him feel guilty.
“I hope you don’t mind, but could I have some toast? I’m rather hungry.”
“Of course, I’ll make some and bring it over to you, Are you in the drawing room?”
“Yes, thank you” The plain direct look she gave him brought home the reality of the situation. He’d been enjoying himself but her dour expression, the sadness in her eyes, made him feel, what was this strange emotion? Was it pity?
He left her and returned to the dangerous excitement of the Drawing room.
Who Are The Victims?
Where Were They Found?
But Who Is Guilty?
How Did They Do It?
What Was Their Motive?
What Are The Murder Weapons?