A Murder Had Occurred – Part 3 of a June Marble story.
“Go on!” we pleaded.
She looked at us with a degree of Literature and a small amount of contempt.
“The book was… dramatic chords here, I think – Dah Dah Daaah! –
A shot rang out and she clutched her chest, a look of surprise upon her face as she slowly slid down the chair and folded into a heap upon the floor.
There was a ‘one step back, two steps forward’ movement from us in the room. Then somebody reached her; but, it was too late.
“She’s dead!” Pronounced the stand-in Doctor. “And it wasn’t from old age.”
A general panic ensued with People running hither, and thither; somebody phoned for an ambulance, and, as an afterthought, the police; others examined the open window, and beyond, for signs of the assassin.
Things took their course. The ambulance and police arrived almost simultaneously and the area was soon wrapped in crime-scene tape; her body was soon removed upon a stretcher, covered in a sheet to hide the corpse – which was now what she was. Statements were taken. Names and addresses given. The whole process was carried out with such efficiency that it was all one could do to catch a breath.
Of the twelve people present, one was the victim, eleven were the witnesses, and, can we say, one was a possible accomplice?
The police were a little nonplussed by the murder: a second floor room had been the venue for a story-telling; now it was the most recent in a long line of literary killings all related (in some way) to that Gothic Mansion upon Bodmin Moor.
One of the attendees from that sad and traumatic day was heard to say, ‘But, there aren’t any Gothic Mansions on Bodmin Moor – the Goths never invaded Cornwall!’ Which shows how much he knew.