Posted in Stories - Summer

Who Done It? A Summer Mystery – Part 2

“Colonel Mustard, are you who you say you are?”

“Such an outrageous question. Of course I am, who I say I am.”

The lovely Miss Scarlett, and I were enjoying a quiet moment in the Conservatory.  “Why have you referred to me as Miss Scarlett with two Ts”, she said while wrapping her long legs around me.

“It makes you more exciting”, I said as I cleaned my Elephant Gun then sighted down the barrel, as if the prey was in the sights. “Click” said the gun, without firing a shot. “Got you you Blighter!” Then re-cocking the trigger for the killing shot.

“Shouldn’t you let the poor beast live?” Miss Scarlett asked, while shedding a tear at the loss of such a magnificent beast.

“Could be, I said, while wiping the sweat from my brow. “There are always more where that one came from!”

Dr Black chose that moment to enter the room, waxing his fake mustache, a habit that he never seemed to lose, even though it caused him a great deal of difficulty when dealing with the police.

“I saw her today”, he said while tossing a careless gaze over towards Miss Scarlett,” you know who?”

I tried to ignore him, and tried to tell Miss Scarlett that there wasn’t anyone but her. Not now, and definitely not before.

“She needs to see you, it is urgen”t, his wandering gaze following her legs from toe to tip, wherever they might take me, he thought to himself. If only, he were alone with her with me being out of the way, then…

His words did indeed seem urgent, but I doubted his intentions for being the lackey, the Messenger Boy for someone like her. “What did she promise you?”, I asked him directly, not wanting to beat around the bush, my hands grasping and ungrasping the lead pipe behind my back, waiting for a sudden slip of the truth, or the smell of her perfume on his jacket, or the faint imprint of red lipstick on his collar.

“Did you see her? Are you certain it was her?” I asked a bit more rough this time, pinning him to the Ficus Elastica, noticing how his breath was forced out of his lungs, reducing his answer to a mere gasp, “She sat in the Rolls. Her face was covered, but I am sure it was her….She left something for you….A Letter.”

I let him go, forcing him to collapse in a heap on the Persian Rug.

“That is a better fate, than you ever gave your patients, Old Snake in the Grass!”

He didn’t move, fearing my wrath, and disgust at his mere presence. He drew an envelope out of his pocket, making sure that it resembled the real thing, placing the final details with his quill pen, and sealing it with her wax seal. MP for Miss Peach, in orange wax of course. He handed it up to me, thus collapsing once again, disappearing as it were through the trap door, to points unknown.

“Who is she?”, Miss Scarlett asked,  while biting me on the left earlobe. Her voice reduced to a bare whisper, “Take me now, instead of meeting her”. Her sultry breath, her body close to mine, the lead pipe behind my back and a cigarette burning close enough to think that it was mine, if I smoked that is!

“I need to meet her”, I said, while  forcing my gaze upon her, undressing her in my mind, my hands over her body, her high-heeled shoes dangling over the table.

“Oh”, she said taken aback. “I didn’t know you were so forceful”, showing her hand, Full House, Aces and Spades. “I guess, I should hike up my dress a bit more, farther than any red-blood American Man could take.”

It’s a good thing, I was British, or else I might succumb to the combination of her red dress and her killing stare. It’s done others in, I’m sure, but we all have bodies buried in the basement, don’t we?

“I’ll be back later”, I told her and walked confidently out of the room, hoping that she would stop me from going, using her femme fatale, way of  persuasion. “Kick and Kiss me honey”, I said and left the room heading towards the Dining Room.

I feared poisoning was on today’s menu. “Soup du Aconite” with Amanita Muscaria as hors-d‘oeuvres, The Deadly Fly Agaric, when nothing better will do!

She sent someone else to serve the meal, Mrs White, in her best impression as maid, servant, and seductress, when all else failed to work.

“Colonel Mustard, what a delight it is to see you again”, I reached out to kiss her hand, but noticed a reddish look beginning to grow in intensity as she approached me. “Cyanide, anyone?” That is the question I could have asked her, but suddenly she began to suffer from shortness of breath then seizures, finally collapsing into a coma.

Dr Black might have been called in other instances, but he might as well have been the one who administered the deadly blow to an otherwise harmless old bat!

I then heard movement in the next room, prompting me to look through the keyhole, hoping against hope to catch a look, of my former love, caught in the act of seducing my best friend, subjecting him to the same tortures, she inflicted upon me, and I loved her for that, dear God. Oh how I loved her for that!

I started to turn the doorknob, and pressed the door inwards, hoping to catch her off guard. I had turned off the lights in the Dining Room in order to give myself an additional edge, in order to gain the upper hand, before she did. The room appeared as dark as my own, allowing for just a crack of light appearing under the door leading to the Hall.

I struck a match, fully expecting the flame to be shot out from under me, throwing me lifeless on the floor, dying in a bloodbath of ecstasy,  hoping to see her at least once more, before I met my maker!

The room was deathly still. I listened intently for her breathing and imagined her breasts heaving and sighing in the darkness. “Do you trust me?”, she once asked me, which seemed like an odd thing to say, with her knowing how I felt, and how I still do…I still do.

“So, you’ve come! I had hoped for as much, but you never know with Great White Hunters. Seeing you there, in Africa brandishing your Elephant Gun, blowing away the other Suitors of your love affairs gone wrong. Justifying it in the courts, as others that had sullied the name of Mustard, taking lover after lover, until your needs were satisfied, then casting those poor women aside as yesterday’s news.  And I, what of I? Am I just another conquest?  A trophy on your mantelpiece, which has lost the favor of your company. An old rag that you’ve wiped that nasty grin off your face with, then tossed it in the dustbin to be burned along with the rest of the garbage. Am I that person to you?”

I sensed, that she wasn’t as happy to see me, as I her! I had the Gun, in case….But she was wielding the Rope, and used it without questioning, without warning.

“If I tied your hands, would it make my intentions clear to you?” she asked me, just without warning, or my accept before I found myself bound and attentive to her words, and to her needs. “If I said that I have missed you so dearly that tramping on the others who have been poisoned, stabbed and bludgeoned, meant nothing to me, as long as you held me in your arms once again.”

Being bound and gagged, I felt that I was the perfect compliment to her words and questions, not being able to interject my anger, or question our existence together! I felt that this could work, for the both of us, as long as she didn’t feel like my lifeless body, dangling from the ceiling, while sipping a glass of Revenge Whiskey, that sounded like a better thing altogether!

Suddenly the lights went out, plunging us into darkness. A flash of lightning outside the window, accentuated her face, bathed in the fiery waters of revenge, raising her hand up with the knife that had done in so many former lovers, its tip glistening in the lightning light, falling downwards with a Shriek, the final Death Knell, when all hope is lost, and the end is near….

When the lights returned , I was greeted by the sight of Miss Scarlett, standing over the lifeless body of Miss Peach, dagger in her hand, glistening with blood, still dripping from its serrated edge. “You’ll thank me for that one someday”, she said, while slicing the knife blade up Miss Peach’s corset, revealing the less than sleek form of a woman that I once knew, back when she was alive, that is!

“You see? She wasn’t the woman, she said she was. Not sleek and elegant, not quick to forgive and forget, and definitely not someone for the likes of you!”

I was seeing Red, not in anger mind you, but Red all the same.

“Is that your Elephant Gun in your trousers, or are you just happy to see me?” She said while her long fingers danced about my face, like knives close enough to cut, or finger tips ready to caress.

I had quickly forgotten about any past loves, at least while Miss Scarlett was in my life. If anymore of them did manage to turn up, then she probably would still be in my life.

Oh, how I hate explaining to the police, where all these bodies have come from….

 

 

Advertisements

Author:

My profile might reflect who I am, what I think and why I write what I do. My profile might just reveal the inner workings of a deranged mind, a helpless soul, and a self-destructive way of living. Don't worry. I'm OK. I've just lost sight of my little sister in the evening clouds....

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s