Whodunnit?

Whodunnit?

“One of us had to have done it,” the man by the fireplace declared, his fine suited arm leaning on the mantle, his manner displaying his wealth and power.  “We’re the only ones in the house, the only ones he invited.”

“Foolishly,” a woman in red quipped, taking a sultry puff on her cigarette as she lounged on the chaise.

“There’s no need to make such a jab Scarlet,” the prim man in a horrid mustard suit defended in a brusque voice.  “The poor man’s dead, don’t insult his memory.”

“Oh don’t give me your noble honor and valor speech Colonel; it won’t make any of us believe you didn’t do it.”

He huffed in insult, appearing to be baffled by her accusation.  “Madam, never have I heard such a—“

She laughed lightly.  “Oh please.  You know it’s true.”

“Colonel, Miss Scarlet, please,” the man only wishing to be addressed as Mr. Green requested.  “This is getting us nowhere.”

“Here here,” the purple clad professor with a pipe chirped.  “We should get back to finding out the true murderer…which wasn’t me.”

The other five guests rolled their eyes, not believing anyone’s admissions of innocence; the only ones they intended to give any credence to were their own, true or not.

“Then what do you suggest we do Mr. Green?” the haughtily polite Mrs. Peacock asked.  “Surely you have some idea if you brought it up.”  Murmurs of agreement filtered through the small group of potential murderers.

“Well I…” he stammered, the proud manner he wore like a prized suit cracking.  “I hadn’t really got that far yet…”

Miss Scarlet laughed her insulting laugh once again.  “Oh precious.  He doesn’t even know how to do it.  What a wonderful suggestion then.”

“At least I’m making an effort,” he snapped in defense of his wounded pride.

“Oh yes…wonderful effort…”

“None of the rest of you has an idea either!”

“None of the rest of us brought it up, and for a reason.”

“Perhaps we should reenact the night leading up to the murder?  Perhaps then we can spot some clues,” Green suggested, eager to prove that he had indeed brought up the discovery of the murderer for a reason.

“And you of course intend to preside over it no doubt,” Miss Scarlet remarked dryly.

“Well…yes, I figured I was the best man for the job,” he boasted proudly.

“Oho, you are are you?  Young man, I was leading regiments against the enemy before you were even old enough to crawl.  Why when I was in—“

“Colonel,” Mr. Green interjected, interrupting what would have become a long, drawn out story of his wartime adventures.  “I am in no way discrediting your merit, but that was sending troops into battle.  This is an intellectual matter and needs to be dealt with by someone who knows how to handle managing people in this type of situation.”

“What, you mean murder?” Ms. Scarlet quipped with a wry smile.

He glowered.  “No.  I mean getting people to work together for a common goal.  My companies does it all the time, we call it ‘team-building’.  Furthermore—“

“Oh just let him do it and let’s get on with it,” Mrs. Peacock sighed.

Mr. Green lit up happily, taking quickly to the new management position.  That was what he lived for after all, that and money, which he was certainly planning to request once the murderer among them had been caught for services rendered.  Because he was clearly not the murderer…oh no.

“So fearless leader, how do you propose we go about reenacting the murder hmm?”

“Well I’m…getting to that too…” he remarked with a blush, seeming at a loss.  He was used to stealing the ideas of others to make his millions, not to be forced into coming up with his own ideas.

“Perhaps dear Mrs. White has an idea?  She’s been so quiet,” Mrs. Peacock suggested, looking towards the corner.  The maid looked up at hearing her name, her whimpered crying taking on a more pronounced sound now that she had their attention.  She pulled out a handkerchief with the Boddy crest embroidered upon it, dabbing the fake tears from her eyes as she looked sadly at the body of her employer on the floor.

“Oh she doesn’t have an idea,” Miss Scarlet scoffed.  “She’s too busy pretending to be sad over her dead employer.”

“Now Miss Scarlet, that’s a bit harsh,” Mrs. Peacock chided as Mrs. White burst out crying harder, having long perfected the act of faking sympathy.

“Well she’s not doing us any good.  I just thought she would appreciate knowing that it was safe to cut the act.”

“H-how…how d-dare you?” the tormented maid accused, catching her voice perfectly.  “You didn’t know him l-like I did…n-none of you.”

“It is true, none of us really did know him,” the contemplative Professor Plum mumbled around his pipe.  “What good would it do for any of us to murder him?”

“Maybe that’s where we need to start: motive.  Who had a motive?” Green asked.

“And funny, someone suggested it other than our brave leader,” Scarlet quipped.

“Ha ha,” he sneered at her.  “Why don’t you start then Miss Scarlet.  How did you know Mr. Boddy?”

She sighed, putting her cigarette out before taking a dainty sip of her champagne.  “The Boddy’s are an old family friend.  We know each other through our parents, both of which will be very sad to learn of his death.”

Mrs. White scoffed and all eyes turned to her.  “Oh you don’t honestly believe that do you?”

“Madam, what do you mean?” the Colonel asked as the other three guests nodded.

“She was sleeping with him.  I saw her here all hours of the night with him,” she smirked.

Scarlet glowered at her smirking face.  “How dare you make such a—“

“Don’t try to save face.  We all know you’re a hussy.”

Mrs. Peacock tsked in disapproval.  “Now now, that wasn’t polite.”

“You were sleeping with him?” Green asked in surprise to get back on schedule.

“Yes, we were sleeping together,” she snapped impatiently.  “Since when is that a crime?”

“I always thought adultery was a crime,” Mrs. White quipped, looking quite satisfactory to bring such embarrassment to the rich snob.  She made it a point to detest the rich on principle, but what she felt for that snobbish, prissy prostitute was far beyond the deepest loathing.  If there was one person who always made sure you knew your place in rich society…it was Miss Scarlet.

“Ooh, now we’re getting somewhere…”

“Oh please, that can’t be relevant.  We were just having an affair, nothing more.  If anything I’m the least likely to kill him because of that.”

“Unless he wanted to end it,” Green pushed, feeling like he was on the cusp to single-handed victory.  The police, the city, the world would praise him for this and his business would bloom.

“Why would he want to?  He was a lonely old widow and the sex was amazing…”

“Miss Scarlet!” Mrs. Peacock practically shrieked, a hand to her chest in horror as if she looked personally insulted by her words.  “Mind your manners!”

She rolled her eyes.  “He wasn’t going to cut it off.”

“But what if he was?”

“Then so what?  It’s not like it hasn’t happened to me before.”

“Aren’t you forgetting about the will?” Mrs. White asked sweetly, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“The what?” both Miss Scarlet and Mr. Green asked.

She rolled her eyes.  “Don’t play dumb.  You know, the will.  The one he modified just a few days ago to include all six of us in it.”

“He…he…sweet Benjamin Franklin!” Green cheered.

“Young man, don’t pretend to be shocked,” the Colonel groaned.  “We were all aware of it, which gives all of us all the bloody motive we need…”

“But…that doesn’t give anyone reason to over the other,” Professor Plum reasoned.  “We need to find the one who has it more than everyone else, who wanted or needed that money now enough to murder…”

“And that person is Miss Scarlet!” Green accused.

“Excuse me?” she asked dangerously, the wry humor gone from her eyes and only replaced with a dangerous, feline glare.

“Just look at it ladies and gentlemen…Miss Scarlet and Mr. Boddy were sleeping together.  Boddy wanted to end it but Miss Scarlet didn’t want to for fear he’d take her out of the will, so she got rid of him first!” an excited Mr. Green cheered.

“Oh please,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“No it…it does make sense…” the Colonel conceded, eager to find the real murderer before the tide of conversation turned towards him…not that he did it of course…

“You think I needed the money in that will?” she scoffed.

“Need is an operative term Miss Scarlet,” Mrs. Peacock pointed out wisely.

“Besides, we’ve heard all about you in the papers.  The Black Widow: isn’t that your nickname?” Mrs. White smirked.

Scarlet did not look amused.  “I am not responsible for their deaths, at least directly.  Someone would find out about the affair and take it out on the man I was dating.”

“But only after you already wormed your way onto his will.”

“I was fortunate.”

“Mhmm…” Mrs. White murmured, clearly not convinced.

Scarlet sighed.  “If you must know, the money I was to receive in gifts and spoils should he have stayed alive would have well made up for the money I’m receiving from the will, regardless of whether he was going to leave me or not.”

Mrs. White scoffed.  “Don’t give me that.  I saw the kind of stuff he gave you.  Expensive it may be, but it’s not enough to make up for a sixth of his fortune.”

A low growl escaped from the direction of the chaise before the lady in red could calm herself.  “Fine, I was blackmailing him.”

“What?” the other five asked.  None of them were expecting that.

“I set up a separate account and threatened that I would tell the papers and other businesses that Boddy deals with that he was having an affair with me, the Black Widow, something that wouldn’t help his reputation at all.  He of course was quite willing to pay the exorbitant amount of money I requested, which is how I know he wasn’t going to break it off and take me from the will.  If he was willing to pay that instead of getting rid of me, he wasn’t going to dump me any time soon.”

The hope that had lingered in the room since Scarlet’s confession of the affair deflated, the despair evident on all their faces.  Each were hoping that they had at least found a motive that made sense, that would clear all their names, guilty or no.  Unfortunately, her story was sound.  After all, what point is there in blackmailing a dead man?

“Well…it’s not her,” Green sighed sadly, vocalizing everyone’s depressed thoughts.  And it had been so convenient too…

“Really Sherlock?” she scoffed, back with her cruel witticisms now that she was free of the accusatory spotlight.

“Hey, at least we narrowed it down!” he defended, trying to find the positive side to his failure.  “And now to lower it further, perhaps even down to one…Professor.”

“I didn’t do it!”

He groaned.  “That’s why we’re asking you, to find out if it’s true.”

“Oh…alright then.  Um…what do you want again?”

He rolled his eyes.  “We just want your connection to Boddy and why you might want the money from the will now.”

“But I don’t.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t need it.”

The rest of the group groaned, feeling Green’s frustration at the Professor’s simplistic absent-mindedness.

“Professor, didn’t I hear in the paper recently that you had a slight falling out in the scientific community over your ‘discovery’ of a false fossil?” Mrs. Peacock asked to trigger conversation.

“That was not my fault!” he defended, pleasant demeanor almost instantly turning harsh.

“Then my boy, feel free to clear your name,” the Colonel offered.

He breathed out, taking a sip of his expensive beer before starting.  “I didn’t forge it, or make someone else forge it; I actually found it.”

“What was ‘it’?” the uninformed White asked, playing with the umbrella in her fruity drink in boredom.

“It was a dinosaur skull, a new species, and I was going to name it all for myself.  It was a marvel, something never before seen, and from the basic bone structure it looked highly intelligent and evolved.  Just the advanced bone structure and the large brain cavity which meant that it was at least—“

“The reason it was fake, Professor?” Scarlet interrupted.

“Right.  I found it on a very publicized, sponsored dig, but it was all a set up.  Someone had fused together pieces of other skeletons to make this new, evolved species.  When the scientific community analyzed it and found out it was false, they accused me of constructing it and even worse, of stealing the fossils needed to make it!  They cleared my name of the theft charges course, but now no one is willing to let me do anything for fear it will be phony!”

“Sounds like motive to me…” Green grinned, grateful to be able to pin it on someone else.  He was back on his game.

“What?  No!”

“Oh yes.  Like in business, you need another big discovery to help clear your reputation, but no one will give you the backing you need, unless of course you provide your own…”

“He does have a point,” the Colonel conceded.  “Your share of the will would cover the cost of another dig, one that could give your reputation the boost it needed…”

“You didn’t let me finish!  You assume I didn’t have backing, but I did.”

They all looked at him in confusion.  “But you…you just said no one would,” Mrs. White told him, trying to recall his earlier testament.

“Well, when I said no one I meant publicly.  Boddy believed me though.  He’d funded a number of my digs and research before and knew I didn’t fake my own discoveries.  That was how we became friends.  But he was willing to sponsor my next dig, under the table of course.  He didn’t want to be associated with me, and understandable, but you can check the accounting records; he was funding my new dig.”

Again the whole room deflated as one.  Another perfectly good motive, beaten down by proof and a good, reasonable alibi.

“Does that mean I’m cleared?”

“Yes yes, you’re clear,” Green sighed.

“Excellent!  Oh this game is fun.  Who’s next?”

Green looked at him with a cocked eyebrow in disbelief, simply shaking his head before scanning the room for his next victim.  His eyes fell upon the black and white dressed maid with a glimmer of promise.  “Mrs. White.”

She sighed, knowing this would come eventually.  Of course, as his maid, she would be under suspicion from the start…  “I’ve been working as a maid for Mr. Boddy since before he was married and I have served them faithfully during that entire time without complaint.”

Scarlet scoffed, eyes glimmering evilly.  And now to carry out some well-deserved and justified revenge…  “Without complaint, oh that is a good one Mrs. White,” she chuckled in disbelief.

“What are you prattling on about now?” Mrs. White asked in exasperation.

“You complain constantly.  Mr. Boddy may never have seen it, but I did.  Oh I did.  I saw the faces when he wasn’t looking, the eye rolls, the grimaces behind water pitchers or serving trays.  I’ve never seen a more unhappy worker than you.”

“That is outrageous!  How dare you?”

“Admit it Mrs. White, you hated serving him and all his rich friends.  The jealousy was written all over your face whenever I came to visit, whenever any of us came to visit I’m sure.  All of us, flaunting our wealth, relishing in it without hardly having to work for it, and yet you slave away cleaning up for all of us for not even a fraction of the wealth we posses.  And it had to just kill you, being surrounded by people who were economically and socially superior to you and knowing that you would never be able to be one of us.”

“Miss Scarlet I think you’re—“ Mrs. Peacock tried to interject but she kept going, driven by her desire for revenge against the one that pulled her into the spotlight.  Well, she was going to return the favor.

“And then you find out he provided for you in his will and your years of service suddenly meant something.  A sixth of his immense fortune was enough to catapult you into higher society for the rest of your lifetime.  No more cleaning, no more cooking, no more needing to serve him, especially if he were dead…  So you killed him.”

She stood up, round face flushed in her anger.  “I did no such thing!”

“No no…she does make a very compelling argument…” Mr. Green conceded.

“Told you I should have been leader,” she snapped under her breath, but he ignored her in favor of this new accusation.

“I never had any intention of killing Mr. Boddy!” she defended, face as red as the name of her most hated rival.  “I wasn’t born like you people, into wealth and fame.  I lived a modest life with my family and when I grew up I knew I had to provide for myself doing what I do best.  Fortune brought me to Mr. Boddy and he pays me more for just doing the cooking and cleaning than any other job that doesn’t require a bachelor’s degree!  As much as I hated it, it paid well and gave me a nice house to live in as well as all the benefits!”

“But it’s still not everything,” Scarlet pressed.  “You can’t just squander money or live a life of frivolous luxury as we all can, and that’s what you want.”

“Well of course I do!  Who doesn’t?  I am only human after all!”

“But the will would give you the opportunity for that,” Mrs. Peacock reminded her, the accusatory tone missing from her voice for it wasn’t polite to accuse people, but the meaning was there.

“Look, I realize that it looks like good motive and yes, I’m glad I have the money now, but I was content to wait.  I wasn’t in danger of being removed from the will, unlike some people” she snarled with a glare at the red-headed temptress “so I had time to wait for him to pass in his sleep.  Maybe even by then my cut would be bigger as more of you were cut off.  And then, when he finally died, I’d have all the money from the additional years of working in addition to my cut from the will.  I had no disadvantage to waiting,” she finished confidently, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared them down, daring each of them to challenge her.

Miss Scarlet looked down at her champagne, reeling her ego in to prevent further injury.  Just like Mrs. White’s accusation had been snuffed out, so had hers.  It was a fair circle, an act of injustice begetting an act of revenge in equal proportion and harm, but that certainly wasn’t what she wanted.  She wanted her to be burned, but she knew she couldn’t make a point against that logic.

Mrs. White sat down, satisfied that the silence indicated acceptance of her alibi.

“Colonel, why don’t you go next, and just save us the trouble and be straight with us,” Mr. Green suggested, taking a long swig of his strong drink as he leaned in exhaustion against the fireplace.  He was already growing tired of this.

“Young man, are you suggesting that I am not honest?” he demanded, sounding personally insulted at the accusation.

“No I’m just asking for cooperation, that’s all.”

“Very well.  I served with Mr. Boddy’s father in the military.  He was in my platoon and we went to war together, each earning great renown and glory for our prospective names and families.  I was proud to serve next to such an honorable, respectful—“

“And please save us the long story,” he practically pleaded.

Colonel Mustard huffed, puffing on his pipe with a grumble.  “After the war I was introduced and Boddy and I remained on friendly terms even after his father’s death, the poor chap.  Unfortunately, as you all have gathered no doubt, I am getting on in years and limbs don’t work quite as well anymore what with old battle wounds acting up and such.  I have a painful one on my right thigh where I was shot in the Battle of—“

“Colonel?”

“Right, sorry.  You are ruining my tales by forcing me to leave out all the bloody exciting parts,” he griped, shaking his head before continuing.  “I officially retired a year ago and am living solely off veteran benefits and my quite expansive savings.”

“Aha!” Green shouted, adrenaline back in full.

The Colonel bristled.  “Do not ‘aha’ me boy,” he demanded, his years in the military showing their colors.  “I haven’t finished my tale.”  He took another puff, glaring at the self-appointed leader before continuing.  “I only mention it because one of you was bound to, but truth is I have no need to collect on my share of the Boddy fortune just yet.  I have plenty of spending money that I saved up and I can pull up a bank statement if you wish it.  And I’m sure you all know of my Uncle Maurice Mustard?  The owner of the Mustard Technical Supply Store chain and the current holder of the Mustard family fortune?  He has cancer and has less than two months to live, if fortunate.  He has no children and I, as his only nephew, am next in line to inherit everything.  See for yourself, it is all true.  I have no need for Boddy’s bloody fortune to keep my financial stability.”

The rest of the group groaned as all eyes turned towards the prim Mrs. Peacock quietly sipping her tea.  “Well Mrs. Peacock?”

“Are you accusing me now?” she asked, offended.

“Of course we are,” Mr. Green groaned.

“How rude!  Do you know how impolite it is to accuse someone!  It is about as rude as pointing your finger at them!”

“We’ve done it to everyone else,” the Professor pointed out.

“That doesn’t make it any less rude!”

“We have to get through everyone or else we’ll never know who did it!” Green told her impatiently.

“You haven’t been accused yet,” she pointed out.

“Oh, so are you accusing me now?”

“No, merely making an observation.  That, is not rude.”

He took a deep calming breath before regaining his composure.  “Fine.  I’ve known Mr. Boddy for many years.  Our companies have done a lot of business together and eventually we became friends.  As for any motivation in regards to the will—“

“Didn’t your company just suffer a major blow when that company you just bought out for millions went under?”

“Are you accusing me of something?” he asked sharply through gritted teeth.

“Of course not.  Merely another observation,” she brushed off with a casual wave of her hand.  “But remember reading that you suffered a terrible loss, somewhere in the high millions,” Mrs. Peacock pointed out.

“Yes, I do remember hearing about that,” Mustard added.  “Your stocks dropped like a bombshell didn’t they ol’ boy?” he chuckled.

He clenched his fists.  “Yes, I did.  My employees informed me everything was solid after the buyout, but apparently the company had a few last…tricks,” he growled bitterly, still obviously furious over the whole situation.

“But weren’t you forcing them into selling?” the Professor asked.

“Of course I was.  No one willingly sells their company to you.  But it was low and underhanded how they rigged everything to fall when we tried to take over.”

“And like your method of obtaining it wasn’t underhanded,” Scarlet scoffed.

“Excuse me?  When did this turn into an insult against my business?  Aren’t we trying to establish my innocence?”

“You’re trying to establish your innocence.  We’re trying to establish your guilt,” Scarlet pointed out gleefully.

“Oh ha ha,” he snapped, clearly not amused.

“But the Boddy fortune would make up for that little company blunder, wouldn’t you say Mr. Green?” Mrs. White accused.

“Yes, it would, but I already had other plans in store, ones that are more beneficial than a murder.”

“Oh really?  Like what?”

He looked around at them, not wanting to tell them his solution for the world.  But…it didn’t look like he had a choice.  Apparently he had made himself very unpopular amongst them, accusing each of them in turn and trying to establish their guilt.  They’d never let him off unless he gave it to them…

“Very well.  I have a few insiders in the stock market and in a few days time we were going to rig the market so that a competitor’s stock would skyrocket dramatically.”

“What good would that do?” the Professor asked.

“Well, I own quite a bit of stocks for each of my competitors.  I use them as a way to intrude on company meetings since I do own a large share of their company in stocks.  But when his stocks skyrocket, I will make </i>hundreds</i> of millions, much more than I lost in that buyout debacle.  And if there’s any suspicion for the skyrocket, it will be on his company and not necessarily on mine.”

The other five thought it over before the Colonel spoke.  “You wouldn’t be able to tell us which competitor this is would you old chap?  You have so many after all…”

“No.  That would definitely around suspicion and frankly I just don’t trust you with the information.”

“But how do we know that’s the truth?” Mrs. Peacock pressed, knowing that if she didn’t get him to admit to it she would be next and, unfortunately, last.  But she had been sure that Green had done it, especially after the company loss.  How was she to know that he had a stock market rig in the works?

“I refuse to show you any proof because I really am trying to keep this secret.  But your proof will come in a few days time.”

“By which time you’ve already fled,” Mrs. White accused.

“Believe what you wish, but I didn’t do it.  I’m a businessman and that’s the way I work, through business.  And if I can rig the stock market in my favor…I’m gong to do it, whether you believe me or not.”

Silence descended upon the group as they all pondered over Green’s excuse, none of them really knowing what to say or believe at this point.  It could be truth it could be a reasonable lie, but then again, all their alibis were…

“Well if it wasn’t you then it’s Mrs. Peacock,” Mrs. White sighed.

“I beg your pardon!  How can you possibly insinuate something so dastardly!”

“You’re the only one left without an excuse and I know I’ve read newspaper articles on you,” Miss Scarlet smirked.  “You’re not the only one that keeps up with the tabloids.  I know you need the money.”

“I do not, not as much as anyone believes at any rate.  It is true my brother squandered our family fortune, but we are slowly but surely getting it back.  Besides, if I was going to do something as improper as murder, wouldn’t I murder my brother who is responsible for all this to make him stop?  Or at least cut his ties with the family financially so he cannot?  We are in works to do that at the moment and you can call my lawyer for proof if you so choose, but I did not murder poor Mr. Boddy.”

“But you had to!” Green challenged.  “You’re the only one left.”

“Then someone here is lying because my excuse is just as good as everyone else’s and certainly better than yours Mr. Green,” she snapped irritably and sadly the other five knew she had a point.

“So…we’re back where we started then?” the Colonel asked.  “Except now instead of six people with motive we have six people without a bloody motive!”

“Well…that’s no so much of a problem,” Professor Plum piped up, causing stares of disbelief to be directed his way.  “We just need to find out who’s lying.”

Groans of disbelief started amongst the group as argument broke out amongst the group.  There were people arguing against the simplicity of Plum’s supposed ‘easy’ plan, people arguing their alibis against others, people defending their innocence, people assuring those around them of the other’s guilt, and amongst all the bickering, there was one person hiding his or her own guilt.

Mr. Green however didn’t partake in the squabbling, having had enough.  He poured himself another shot, gulping it down and letting the sharp liquor burn his throat and hopefully clear his head.  He stared down at the body of their dead host, wondering if there was something they were missing, some clue that didn’t require a personal testimony from one among a group of professional liars and swindlers.  No truth would ever come out of that and no one had enough time nor the means to really search for proof for each alibi.

He walked closer to the body, his movements unnoticed by the other bickering guests, too absorbed in defending their own innocence to see the carefully concocted lies start to unravel.  He looked down at the body for the first time, seeing the look of shock and horror on the billionaire’s face.  Clearly he didn’t know he was going to be killed, or even attacked.  Whoever had done it had taken him by surprise and startled him.  But…there was also worry.  He’d seen that look on his companion’s face before.  It was hidden, beneath the fear and horror, but there it was.  But what did he have to be worried about?  Boddy had generally been a happy-go-lucky man and usually didn’t take to worry too easily.  What would have gotten him in such a mood?  Unless…unless he knew he was going to be murdered.  Yes…that would make anyone worried.  He knew something was going to happen to him, that he had angered one of them and they were going to get even.  Someone’s back up money alibi had failed and Mr. Boddy knew it…but who?

Puzzled by the mystery he plunged onward, looking at the crime scene with fresh eyes.  He looked again at the phone on Boddy’s desk.  The headset was crooked.  If there was one thing he knew about Mr. Boddy, it was that he was meticulous, and Mrs. White even more so.  Neither of them would leave a phone like that, unless Boddy was on the phone when he had been murdered and, in a rush, the murderer slammed it back on, not caring about its precise placement.  So…Boddy was on the phone, possibly with the police?  Was he going to tell someone about his murderer?  Or maybe call his lawyers to cut them from the will?  

He flashed through the alibis presented from the other guests, trying to find one that would fit the situation until he noticed a piece of paper on the floor.  He knelt down discreetly, picking it up to read it.  It was a bank statement for an unnamed account.  But the curious part was that the corner looked like a staple had been removed from it.  There were more missing pages.  Again the alibis flashed through his mind, trying to fit the pieces together but there were still too many…too many to fit.  Most of the alibis involved money transfer into an account at some point, and any could be accused of fraud from Boddy’s end.

Still confused he continued his investigation around the desk, coming across a strange mark in the carpet.  At first he shrugged it off as part of the elegant rug pattern but it looked too strange, too foreign to be part of the actual rug and it was too light to be blood.  He bent closer to it, sniffing in curiosity.  The harsh scent of alcohol was present, but it didn’t sear his nasal cavity.  Clearly it was the remnants of some alcoholic drink, which means that the murderer must have spilled his drink…but why?  In anger?  In surprise?  Did it happen when Boddy revealed whatever was shown in the bank statement?

He stood up, the mystery of the murder starting to unravel.  Like pulling away the clothing bindings of a mummy to find the pharaoh’s skeleton hiding within he tore away the lies of one alibi in particular, finding the murderer.

A triumphant smile crossed his face, finding the murderer in the room, arguing underserved innocence.  He resumed his place at the mantle, turning to face them.

“Quiet everyone!” he called and the bickering guests ceased immediately.  They didn’t like that look, the look he got when finally cornering a company owner for control of his business.  He knew something.

“I know who the murderer is,” he announced.

“Oh do you know?” Scarlet scoffed.  “And you know it now because…?”

He held up the bank statement with a flourish, not bothering to look at the murderer’s reaction; he already knew who was guilty.  “I found whose alibi isn’t sound.”

“Who?” all the guests cried in suspense.

He grinned, drawing out the moment of his beautiful victor.  “It was—“  

The lights all flickered off.  A few of the women, and possibly even Professor Plum, screamed.

“It was me!” a loud voice boomed from the door as the sound of a chainsaw whirred through the room.  All the eyes of the guests fell on the large silhouette in the doorway.

“Dad!” the voice from the mantle protested, the visage of the triumphant and proud businessman fading into that of a young teenage boy.  “Jason isn’t one of the six suspects in clue!”

“…It has to be Clue?” he hockey-mask clad figure asked sadly.

“Uh…yeah Dad.  That’s why it’s a Clue Murder Mystery Party.”

“Oh…darn.”

“Jack Fenton!” Maddie’s shrill voice shrieked.  “Did you shut the power off?”

“Ooh…someone’s in trouble,” Tucker winced around his false pipe.

“Please kids…hide me,” Jack pleaded.

“Jack!  Did you?” she demanded, her stern figure joining his silhouette in the door.

“…Yes…” he answered with a wince.

She smacked his shoulder lightly to show her displeasure.  “Jack Fenton you nearly gave me a heart attack!  Shutting the power off on Halloween?  You…ugh!” she groaned.  “And what are you even doing in here?”

“Well I…”

“Are you crashing their party?”

He looked about to answer when he heard the doorbell ring.  His frightened expression turned to jovial delight as he whirred his chainsaw again.  “Oh boy, trick or treaters!” he cheered, dashing towards the door.

“Make sure you turn the power back on!” Maddie called after him, shaking her head.  “I’m really sorry kids,” she sighed in apology.

“Don’t worry about it Mrs. Fenton,” Valerie assured her, straightening out her maid’s costume.  “It’s Halloween; we can all do with a little scare.”

“Have you figured it out yet?”

“Danny was just about to reveal who he thought it was,” Jazz told her, setting her teacup down.

“Oh good good.  So Danny, did you figure out it was—“

“Mom!  Don’t spoil it!”

“Oh…right, sorry,” she apologized as the lights flickered on.  “There!  Much better.  Now we can all see what we’re—is that doll supposed to be Vlad Masters?” she asked, gesturing to the stuffed, fake body on the floor complete with suit and silver ponytail.

“What?” Danny asked innocently.  “We needed a rich billionaire.  We were going to invite him to come play the part, but he’s kinda lost in space right now, so we just…made a fake one.”

“But…did it have to be Vlad?”

“Of course.  There’s just this sense of enjoyment about discussing his murder.”

Maddie simply shook her head.  “Whatever makes you happy sweetie.”

“It does,” he smirked.  “Bye Mom.”

“Bye.  Let me know when you’re done.”

“Will do,” he promised as she shut the door, leaving the game players alone in the room.  “Should we even continue with the rest of it?” he asked with a groan.

“Yeah, might as well…”

He cleared his throat, assuming the commanding personality of Mr. Green once again.  “Very well.  I know who did it,” he announced regally.  “I know who murdered our host, our wealthy companion.  But was it his jealous maid, or his blackmailing affair, or the family friend down on her luck, or the old wartime compatriot of his father, or the counterfeiting archeologist he sponsored…or the wonderfully charming, charismatic, enigmatic, genius, handsome, and yet unlucky,” he finished upon seeing the other guests’ glares “business man just eager to make right on his deal?”

“Who?”

“Yes, who indeed,” he grinned, and the crowd fell silent as he raised his hand, pointing his finger at the murderer.

WHODUNNIT?