Day After Death
Estherbridge
County Morgue
11:30am
Inspector Pry hadn't been able to sleep at all well that night. After many attempts at turning over, switching places, immersing himself entirely in the covers, it was all to no avail. He had to get up and get some very warm milk, during which he'd sat down and wrote out his thoughts on a piece of paper;
Prof. Plum - Manuscript argument?
- Why the sudden return?
The manuscript feud was indeed odd. Of course it wasn't unusual to ask a supposedly good friend to publish it for you. But the rejection wasn't taken to kindly to hot-headed young Julian. Still, this is strange considering he came back just for this? Very odd due to the fact that there are thousands of more publishers over in the States where he'd been working; where he was gaining a name for himself. Why come back?
Miss Scarlet and Mr. Boddy - Low on money?
Boddy never once mentioned this during our interview. Is Scarlet lying? Or is he? Are both?
Miss Peach and M. Brunette - Sex?
Why decide to do the deed then of all times? Very risky, very stupid, in fact. They weren't that drunk so as to not care? Both seemed very sober during respective interviews...
This also leads to question Miss Peach indefinitely. She wasn't with her fiance the entire evening, really.
Mrs. Peacock - Changing seats?
Why did Mrs. Peacock feel the need to change seats during dinner? What was the point? To gossip? Surely an ulterior motive was afoot. Perkins wasn't too happy about the situation. She seems the prime suspect, for the drugging, in particular.
It was the next day, morning, and the sun was shielded with many grey, doomsday-like clouds. It looked as though it was going to rain but never seemed to actually do so.
He had picked up Constable Chart directly from the station and the two immediately went to the city centre morgue. They were greeted by an enthusiastic Dr. Morrisey inside reception.
"Ah, you're here. Both of you. Good. Come with me, we've found out some things." He smiled before leading the way down the squeaky hall, Pry and Chart following.
He pushed open one of the ponderous push-doors and all three of them gathered around the carrier that stood hauntingly in the middle of the room. Morrisey did the honours of slowly lowering the plastic covering, revealing Archibald Perkins' ghostly white face, his protuberant eyes glaring at them with horror.
"His face," Morrisey indicated with a gloved finger, "is now very white. If you recall, yesterday evening, his face was red and bloated."
"Yes..." Pry recalled.
"These are the effects of a particular anaesthetic called Valerian. It's a derived plant source. It's commonly used in treating anxiety and stress disorders. It's calm you down...quick."
"Knock you out pretty well with enough of the stuff?"
"Of course."
Morrisey replaced the blanket back over Perkins' face.
"Where do you get this stuff?"
"You can buy it from a good enough pharmacist. Most of them don't do it but some do."
"Why?"
"Well, there's better drugs than it, you see."
"Then why not use a better drug to drowse Perkins?" Pry asked.
"I don't know, Pry. You're the detective. I just tell you what happened to the person."
"What about the strangulation?" Chart spoke for the first time upon entering.
"Ah, yes. It was the tie he was wearing. I believe your men have that bagged up already."
The two detectives returned to their car. Pry turned the keys and pulled out of the car park.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"Back to little old Milton-on-Hyde. I want to have a proper search of the house myself."
"Perkins'?"
"Yep." He continued, on a different topic. "Perkins was drugged, presumably at dinner. It had to be at dinner, in fact. He didn't eat or drink anything afterwards. He was probably already very drowsy whilst talking to Mr. Boddy, revealing mumblings he probably wouldn't normally do."
"Like that he wouldn't be here much longer?"
"Exactly. Boddy went. Perkins' condition fell worse. He probably sat down at his desk and suddenly flopped down on it. His killer must've sneaked in at some point, grabbed him by the tie whilst he was relatively unconcious and choked him."
"Yeah." Chart nodded with satisfaction.
"So the room must've been ransacked. If he was drugged he must've been really defenseless, weak. There was no struggle at all - not like we first presumed. We thought that the room may have just got caught in the crossfire of the murder. No."
"Why drug him, sir?"
"Hm?"
"If he was drugged, surely it must've been a woman. To make it easier on herself. Make it a sure-fire way that the murder would be successful."
"I personally assume it's because the killer wanted to make as little noise as possible."
"That's true. If that's the case then why didn't they just sneak up behind and bash him on the head or stick a knife in his back?"
"I don't know."
Arlington Point
Master Bedroom
11:55am
Miss Scarlet knocked on the bedroom door with her well-groomed hands. She called, "Joe? Are you getting up yet? It's really getting late."
No response.
She sighed. "Come on, Joe. Please." She hid a smirk the best she could. "Don't make me come in there, mister." She giggled. "This isn't funny! This is exactly what happened when poor Penny found her father. That's it, I'm coming in, anyway."
She twisted the handle and stormed in.
Joseph Boddy lay still on his bed, shirtless in a pair of black pyjama bottoms. He was enthralled within the duvet, an arm over his forehead, staring at the ceiling with glittering eyes.
"Come on, darling."
He didn't reply.
"I can you make you some French toast or something if you like."
"I'm not hungry,' he said, laying motionless.
She sighed again. She'd been doing a lot of that this morning.
"Fine. Stay in bed all day. I don't care. I'm going back downstairs. I may even go out. You're certainly not entertaining me." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
"You mean like Perkins did?"
She stopped in her tracks and swiped back round. "Please, Joe! Can't we just forget about that, for God's sake!"
"I can't --"
"If you're going to let this interfere in our relationship anymore I'll just go and never come back, you understand?"
"No, don't do that."
"You aren't giving me much of a choice anymore, Joe." She was fighting back tears.
"Come here."
Jacqueline breathed several times; heavy, deep breaths and got on the bed. "What?"
He suddenly lunged at her, she shrieked and he pushed her head onto the pillow, grabbing her wrists. All in a playful manner, of course. "Joe!" she screamed with laughter.
"Did you love him?"
"Are you serious?"
"No," he laughed before placing a delicate kiss on her lips, allowing lipstick to spread all over his own.
"Are you going to get up now?"
"I just have to know one thing: was is he better than I am?"
She roared with laughter. The two got up and sat side-by-side on the bed. "I still can't believe he's dead, you know."
"You do realise whoever killed him was at that party, don't you?"
"Oh of course I do. It's just -- I don't know if I can trust any of them anymore."
"Me neither." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "But I don't care. I have you." He smiled.
She tapped his cheek. "I'll get started on that toast, shall I?"
"No. I can do it."
"But --"
"It's fine. You never were a good house wife."
"Fine. I'll just stand around and look pretty."
The two laughed and Joseph got up off the bed, threw on his dressing gown from the nearby rack and opened the door.
Before he went, Scarlet called, "Joe?"
"Yeah?" he asked, turning his head back at her.
"Thank you," she smiled.
Portman Bungalow Estate
No. 8
12:40pm
A loud, efficient knock pounded Monsieur Brunette awake. He hadn't slept well as it was and after just finally drifting off he was met by this, what seemed to him, colossal noise. He heaved himself out of bed with a groan, slithered into a vest and shorts and opened the door, which had been knocking constantly the entire time.
"Ah, come in." He allowed her to enter. He closed the door and offered her a seat.
"I think you understand why I'm here, Monsieur," said Mrs. White in her usual practical manner.
"Oui. Now give me the money."
"Indeed." She unlatched her handbag and offered him a big wad of notes.
"Merci, madame. It is good to see you all keep your word."
"Of course we do, Claudio -- may I call you, Claudio?"
"Non."
"Very well." She got up and pressed herself of any creases. "I shall be leaving then. Enjoy your pay, Monsieur. You have, admittedly, earned it." She headed for the door but hissed back at him, "Just be careful. You know what could happen if you're not." She closed the door.
Chessington Close
Greenhouse
1:05pm
Madame Rose was bus burying new seeds into some of the pots. She had just finished putting another one on the glass shelves, when just beyond the many flowers situated in the garden, just beyond the brick wall, she saw a familiar black car drive by; Pry and Chart's.
They stared back at her.
"Oddball, she is, sir," commented Chart with a frown.
"Not our cause for concern at the moment, Chart."
They drove down the road.
She gritted her teeth before plunging her trowel into a pot full of soil.
Acorn Lodge
Kitchen
1:30pm
"Cliff! Tea!"
Miss Peach layed a few tea cups onto the small, round wooden table draped with a flowery-printed cloth. She poured the scolding hot water into the various cups before dumping lumps of sugar into each, then milk and stirring gently.
Colonel Mustard came in and took a seat. "You spoil me, Maybelle."
"Well I thought we could use some. It's been the most awkward morning." She passed him a cup on a saucer.
"Yes. Well, I should imagine it is for everyone involved."
"Yes."
She took a seat and sipped a bit from her porcelain cup. She stared at her fiance, awaiting approvement. He took a sip.
"Mmm! It's good."
"Thanks. I'm not really used to making it so..."
"Oh, it's fine, dear. It really is." He drank some more with a gulp.
She straightened her silky pastel orange blouse with building anxiety.
"Cliff, if I was to tell you -- tell you about last night --"
"Oh, don't remind me of last night! Truly horrible affair. I've thought about it all day - I just want the whole mess to go away."
"As do all of us, I'm sure. It's just --"
"Speaking of which, where were you all evening? I hardly saw you."
"That's what I want to explain --"
"Not that I'm suspecting you or anything, of course not. It's just that I want to know, that's all."
"Well I --"
"It still confuses me as who did it. Boddy? Nah. Peacock; she's a fighter but also a killer? I'm not sure --"
As he rattled on, all she could think of was being in the throws of passion with a certain Claudio Brunette. The two of them rolling around, her fingers eagerly clawing his smooth back, her hands running through his soft hair as he worshipped her through and through. All the time guilty of actually enjoying it. But she didn't care, anymore. She not only enjoyed it, she loved every second of it.
" -- but she hardly seems the type to --"
"I think I'm going to go out."
"What?"
"I could use the fresh air," she got up.
"But you've hardly had any tea yet."
"It's all your's," she tucked the chair back under the table.
"Well where are you going, anyway?"
"Just out. For a walk, I think. I could do with one." She ran into the hall and quickly pulled on her meagre coat. "See you later!" She banged the door shut and sprinted out onto the street.
Colonel Mustard sighed, putting his tea cup on the saucer with a clink. He adjusted a cuff-link on his bronze blazer, all the while wondering what was wrong with that girl of his. He shook his head and chuckled. He knew her. Indeed he did. She was harmless, angelic. She'd just be going shopping or something. He chuckled until he no longer felt the need to do so and poured himself another cup of tea.
Perkins Manor
Ballroom
2:45pm
Inspector Pry and Constable Chart had been searching for at least a good hour at the manor that took home to murder less than twenty-four hours ago. After an extensive search of the lounge, dining room, kitchen, conservatory, billiard room, library, study and all the upstair bedrooms, they had no choice but to search the ballroom which they conducted all their interviews in the previous night. After several minutes of searching under couches, behind the piano and under rugs, Chart came across a bust of Mozart. He looked behind it to find a small bottle.
"Sir!"
Pry quickly joined him. Chart, with his hanky covering his hand, carefully picked up the bottle.
"Give it here!" Pry commanded.
He read the bottle sternly. "Veronal." He skimmed the lines of words, taking particular interest in "Barbituate pills." Sleeping medication.
"Is that it, sir?" Chart asked.
"I can't remember what Morrisey said. Was it Veronal?"
"I think so, sir. Something with a 'v', anyway."
"I know who put this here."
"You do?"
"Peacock," he seethed. "On her way out, remember? She suddenly stopped to marvel this bust. What she was doing was hiding this behind it. She had to hide it here because we told her full-body searches would be carried out."
"A bit stupid though, eh? I mean surely she would think we'd know it was her easily?"
"She probably panicked. Didn't care as long as it wasn't found on her during the body search."
"To Bell House, sir?"
"Yes."
Green's Motors
2:50pm
Mr. Green stamped the cheque with his signature symbol; a raised sword with a snake writing around it. He couldn't get the ghastly business of Perkins' murder off his mind. He was worried. He was concerned. He was...frightened. He finished writing out all of his cheques, sidled them together and went to the reception to drop them off. He just had to take his mind off it. Yes, that was all he had to do. Just take his mind off it.
Perkins Manor
Hall
2:50
Pry and Chart were just about to leave the manor when the black phone began to ring on it's stand. Pry cautiosly walked up to it and slowly placed the reciever to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Inspector Pry of Estherbridge Police?"
"Yes, this is Pry speaking."
"Ah, good. I've been ringing around. Thought you might be back here. I'm Detective Chief Inspector Browning from Estherbridge as well."
"Yes?"
"I've just been put in charge of a murder case involving a Mr. Daniel Lowery. I understand you're working on your own case case right now, correct? Of a...Mr. A. Perkins?"
"Yes. But I really don't see what --"
"Mr. Lowery, it seems, was Mr. Perkins' lawyer. He was found dead this morning in his office by his secretary. Looks as though he's been dead all weekend."
"Good God."
"He was his lawyer, Inspector Pry. Would you care to come and have a look?"
To be continued...
County Morgue
11:30am
Inspector Pry hadn't been able to sleep at all well that night. After many attempts at turning over, switching places, immersing himself entirely in the covers, it was all to no avail. He had to get up and get some very warm milk, during which he'd sat down and wrote out his thoughts on a piece of paper;
Prof. Plum - Manuscript argument?
- Why the sudden return?
The manuscript feud was indeed odd. Of course it wasn't unusual to ask a supposedly good friend to publish it for you. But the rejection wasn't taken to kindly to hot-headed young Julian. Still, this is strange considering he came back just for this? Very odd due to the fact that there are thousands of more publishers over in the States where he'd been working; where he was gaining a name for himself. Why come back?
Miss Scarlet and Mr. Boddy - Low on money?
Boddy never once mentioned this during our interview. Is Scarlet lying? Or is he? Are both?
Miss Peach and M. Brunette - Sex?
Why decide to do the deed then of all times? Very risky, very stupid, in fact. They weren't that drunk so as to not care? Both seemed very sober during respective interviews...
This also leads to question Miss Peach indefinitely. She wasn't with her fiance the entire evening, really.
Mrs. Peacock - Changing seats?
Why did Mrs. Peacock feel the need to change seats during dinner? What was the point? To gossip? Surely an ulterior motive was afoot. Perkins wasn't too happy about the situation. She seems the prime suspect, for the drugging, in particular.
It was the next day, morning, and the sun was shielded with many grey, doomsday-like clouds. It looked as though it was going to rain but never seemed to actually do so.
He had picked up Constable Chart directly from the station and the two immediately went to the city centre morgue. They were greeted by an enthusiastic Dr. Morrisey inside reception.
"Ah, you're here. Both of you. Good. Come with me, we've found out some things." He smiled before leading the way down the squeaky hall, Pry and Chart following.
He pushed open one of the ponderous push-doors and all three of them gathered around the carrier that stood hauntingly in the middle of the room. Morrisey did the honours of slowly lowering the plastic covering, revealing Archibald Perkins' ghostly white face, his protuberant eyes glaring at them with horror.
"His face," Morrisey indicated with a gloved finger, "is now very white. If you recall, yesterday evening, his face was red and bloated."
"Yes..." Pry recalled.
"These are the effects of a particular anaesthetic called Valerian. It's a derived plant source. It's commonly used in treating anxiety and stress disorders. It's calm you down...quick."
"Knock you out pretty well with enough of the stuff?"
"Of course."
Morrisey replaced the blanket back over Perkins' face.
"Where do you get this stuff?"
"You can buy it from a good enough pharmacist. Most of them don't do it but some do."
"Why?"
"Well, there's better drugs than it, you see."
"Then why not use a better drug to drowse Perkins?" Pry asked.
"I don't know, Pry. You're the detective. I just tell you what happened to the person."
"What about the strangulation?" Chart spoke for the first time upon entering.
"Ah, yes. It was the tie he was wearing. I believe your men have that bagged up already."
The two detectives returned to their car. Pry turned the keys and pulled out of the car park.
"Where are we going, sir?"
"Back to little old Milton-on-Hyde. I want to have a proper search of the house myself."
"Perkins'?"
"Yep." He continued, on a different topic. "Perkins was drugged, presumably at dinner. It had to be at dinner, in fact. He didn't eat or drink anything afterwards. He was probably already very drowsy whilst talking to Mr. Boddy, revealing mumblings he probably wouldn't normally do."
"Like that he wouldn't be here much longer?"
"Exactly. Boddy went. Perkins' condition fell worse. He probably sat down at his desk and suddenly flopped down on it. His killer must've sneaked in at some point, grabbed him by the tie whilst he was relatively unconcious and choked him."
"Yeah." Chart nodded with satisfaction.
"So the room must've been ransacked. If he was drugged he must've been really defenseless, weak. There was no struggle at all - not like we first presumed. We thought that the room may have just got caught in the crossfire of the murder. No."
"Why drug him, sir?"
"Hm?"
"If he was drugged, surely it must've been a woman. To make it easier on herself. Make it a sure-fire way that the murder would be successful."
"I personally assume it's because the killer wanted to make as little noise as possible."
"That's true. If that's the case then why didn't they just sneak up behind and bash him on the head or stick a knife in his back?"
"I don't know."
Arlington Point
Master Bedroom
11:55am
Miss Scarlet knocked on the bedroom door with her well-groomed hands. She called, "Joe? Are you getting up yet? It's really getting late."
No response.
She sighed. "Come on, Joe. Please." She hid a smirk the best she could. "Don't make me come in there, mister." She giggled. "This isn't funny! This is exactly what happened when poor Penny found her father. That's it, I'm coming in, anyway."
She twisted the handle and stormed in.
Joseph Boddy lay still on his bed, shirtless in a pair of black pyjama bottoms. He was enthralled within the duvet, an arm over his forehead, staring at the ceiling with glittering eyes.
"Come on, darling."
He didn't reply.
"I can you make you some French toast or something if you like."
"I'm not hungry,' he said, laying motionless.
She sighed again. She'd been doing a lot of that this morning.
"Fine. Stay in bed all day. I don't care. I'm going back downstairs. I may even go out. You're certainly not entertaining me." She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
"You mean like Perkins did?"
She stopped in her tracks and swiped back round. "Please, Joe! Can't we just forget about that, for God's sake!"
"I can't --"
"If you're going to let this interfere in our relationship anymore I'll just go and never come back, you understand?"
"No, don't do that."
"You aren't giving me much of a choice anymore, Joe." She was fighting back tears.
"Come here."
Jacqueline breathed several times; heavy, deep breaths and got on the bed. "What?"
He suddenly lunged at her, she shrieked and he pushed her head onto the pillow, grabbing her wrists. All in a playful manner, of course. "Joe!" she screamed with laughter.
"Did you love him?"
"Are you serious?"
"No," he laughed before placing a delicate kiss on her lips, allowing lipstick to spread all over his own.
"Are you going to get up now?"
"I just have to know one thing: was is he better than I am?"
She roared with laughter. The two got up and sat side-by-side on the bed. "I still can't believe he's dead, you know."
"You do realise whoever killed him was at that party, don't you?"
"Oh of course I do. It's just -- I don't know if I can trust any of them anymore."
"Me neither." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "But I don't care. I have you." He smiled.
She tapped his cheek. "I'll get started on that toast, shall I?"
"No. I can do it."
"But --"
"It's fine. You never were a good house wife."
"Fine. I'll just stand around and look pretty."
The two laughed and Joseph got up off the bed, threw on his dressing gown from the nearby rack and opened the door.
Before he went, Scarlet called, "Joe?"
"Yeah?" he asked, turning his head back at her.
"Thank you," she smiled.
Portman Bungalow Estate
No. 8
12:40pm
A loud, efficient knock pounded Monsieur Brunette awake. He hadn't slept well as it was and after just finally drifting off he was met by this, what seemed to him, colossal noise. He heaved himself out of bed with a groan, slithered into a vest and shorts and opened the door, which had been knocking constantly the entire time.
"Ah, come in." He allowed her to enter. He closed the door and offered her a seat.
"I think you understand why I'm here, Monsieur," said Mrs. White in her usual practical manner.
"Oui. Now give me the money."
"Indeed." She unlatched her handbag and offered him a big wad of notes.
"Merci, madame. It is good to see you all keep your word."
"Of course we do, Claudio -- may I call you, Claudio?"
"Non."
"Very well." She got up and pressed herself of any creases. "I shall be leaving then. Enjoy your pay, Monsieur. You have, admittedly, earned it." She headed for the door but hissed back at him, "Just be careful. You know what could happen if you're not." She closed the door.
Chessington Close
Greenhouse
1:05pm
Madame Rose was bus burying new seeds into some of the pots. She had just finished putting another one on the glass shelves, when just beyond the many flowers situated in the garden, just beyond the brick wall, she saw a familiar black car drive by; Pry and Chart's.
They stared back at her.
"Oddball, she is, sir," commented Chart with a frown.
"Not our cause for concern at the moment, Chart."
They drove down the road.
She gritted her teeth before plunging her trowel into a pot full of soil.
Acorn Lodge
Kitchen
1:30pm
"Cliff! Tea!"
Miss Peach layed a few tea cups onto the small, round wooden table draped with a flowery-printed cloth. She poured the scolding hot water into the various cups before dumping lumps of sugar into each, then milk and stirring gently.
Colonel Mustard came in and took a seat. "You spoil me, Maybelle."
"Well I thought we could use some. It's been the most awkward morning." She passed him a cup on a saucer.
"Yes. Well, I should imagine it is for everyone involved."
"Yes."
She took a seat and sipped a bit from her porcelain cup. She stared at her fiance, awaiting approvement. He took a sip.
"Mmm! It's good."
"Thanks. I'm not really used to making it so..."
"Oh, it's fine, dear. It really is." He drank some more with a gulp.
She straightened her silky pastel orange blouse with building anxiety.
"Cliff, if I was to tell you -- tell you about last night --"
"Oh, don't remind me of last night! Truly horrible affair. I've thought about it all day - I just want the whole mess to go away."
"As do all of us, I'm sure. It's just --"
"Speaking of which, where were you all evening? I hardly saw you."
"That's what I want to explain --"
"Not that I'm suspecting you or anything, of course not. It's just that I want to know, that's all."
"Well I --"
"It still confuses me as who did it. Boddy? Nah. Peacock; she's a fighter but also a killer? I'm not sure --"
As he rattled on, all she could think of was being in the throws of passion with a certain Claudio Brunette. The two of them rolling around, her fingers eagerly clawing his smooth back, her hands running through his soft hair as he worshipped her through and through. All the time guilty of actually enjoying it. But she didn't care, anymore. She not only enjoyed it, she loved every second of it.
" -- but she hardly seems the type to --"
"I think I'm going to go out."
"What?"
"I could use the fresh air," she got up.
"But you've hardly had any tea yet."
"It's all your's," she tucked the chair back under the table.
"Well where are you going, anyway?"
"Just out. For a walk, I think. I could do with one." She ran into the hall and quickly pulled on her meagre coat. "See you later!" She banged the door shut and sprinted out onto the street.
Colonel Mustard sighed, putting his tea cup on the saucer with a clink. He adjusted a cuff-link on his bronze blazer, all the while wondering what was wrong with that girl of his. He shook his head and chuckled. He knew her. Indeed he did. She was harmless, angelic. She'd just be going shopping or something. He chuckled until he no longer felt the need to do so and poured himself another cup of tea.
Perkins Manor
Ballroom
2:45pm
Inspector Pry and Constable Chart had been searching for at least a good hour at the manor that took home to murder less than twenty-four hours ago. After an extensive search of the lounge, dining room, kitchen, conservatory, billiard room, library, study and all the upstair bedrooms, they had no choice but to search the ballroom which they conducted all their interviews in the previous night. After several minutes of searching under couches, behind the piano and under rugs, Chart came across a bust of Mozart. He looked behind it to find a small bottle.
"Sir!"
Pry quickly joined him. Chart, with his hanky covering his hand, carefully picked up the bottle.
"Give it here!" Pry commanded.
He read the bottle sternly. "Veronal." He skimmed the lines of words, taking particular interest in "Barbituate pills." Sleeping medication.
"Is that it, sir?" Chart asked.
"I can't remember what Morrisey said. Was it Veronal?"
"I think so, sir. Something with a 'v', anyway."
"I know who put this here."
"You do?"
"Peacock," he seethed. "On her way out, remember? She suddenly stopped to marvel this bust. What she was doing was hiding this behind it. She had to hide it here because we told her full-body searches would be carried out."
"A bit stupid though, eh? I mean surely she would think we'd know it was her easily?"
"She probably panicked. Didn't care as long as it wasn't found on her during the body search."
"To Bell House, sir?"
"Yes."
Green's Motors
2:50pm
Mr. Green stamped the cheque with his signature symbol; a raised sword with a snake writing around it. He couldn't get the ghastly business of Perkins' murder off his mind. He was worried. He was concerned. He was...frightened. He finished writing out all of his cheques, sidled them together and went to the reception to drop them off. He just had to take his mind off it. Yes, that was all he had to do. Just take his mind off it.
Perkins Manor
Hall
2:50
Pry and Chart were just about to leave the manor when the black phone began to ring on it's stand. Pry cautiosly walked up to it and slowly placed the reciever to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Inspector Pry of Estherbridge Police?"
"Yes, this is Pry speaking."
"Ah, good. I've been ringing around. Thought you might be back here. I'm Detective Chief Inspector Browning from Estherbridge as well."
"Yes?"
"I've just been put in charge of a murder case involving a Mr. Daniel Lowery. I understand you're working on your own case case right now, correct? Of a...Mr. A. Perkins?"
"Yes. But I really don't see what --"
"Mr. Lowery, it seems, was Mr. Perkins' lawyer. He was found dead this morning in his office by his secretary. Looks as though he's been dead all weekend."
"Good God."
"He was his lawyer, Inspector Pry. Would you care to come and have a look?"
To be continued...
