INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER - Episode 8

When Inspector Sandy Addison left the Remington Hotel, he haled a hansom cab, which was parked just outside the hotel's entrance, to take him to the Charlesworth estate.  He wasn’t too concered about a ride back since one of Lady Charlesworth's drivers always returned him to Scotland Yard or wherever else he wished to go.

Inspector Addison had barely finished knocking on the door when it was opened by Hobson.  He greeted the inspector somewhat worriedly.  The inspector asked to see Lady Charlesworth and was told that she had gone to the stables earlier and was most likely still riding.  He was about to say that he’d actually came to see the gardener, when they heard a very loud and hideous gurgling scream coming from the garden area.  Sandy yelled at the butler, “Stay here and lock the door!  I’ll investigate the matter.”

The inspector charged across the massive lawn.  Not bothering with the gate, he easily leaped over a chest-high wrought iron fence and proceeded running down a stone walkway.  Dashing along the winding path leading to the greenhouse he called out, “Is anybody here?  Can I be of assistance?”

When no one answered, the inspector slowed down considerably and cautiously made his way through the beautiful gardens until he arrived at the nursery and adjoining garden house.  The door to the garden house was slightly ajar and as he knocked on it, asking if anyone was there, it slowly swung open on its well-oiled hinges revealing a grizzly and most ghastly scene.  Mr. Biaggio, the gardener, was lying in a huge pool of blood; his pants ripped wide open at the crotch.  Besides having his throat slashed wide open, almost from ear to ear, a large pair of gardening shears was protruding from his right eye and lying between his legs was his dismembered penis!  As he quickly dashed out the door to see if the killer was anywhere in sight he thought, whoever killed the gardener must have really hated him.  Upon seeing no one, he stopped and surveyed the peaceful garden and listened for any unusual sounds but all he saw and heard was an abundance of beautiful flowers and singing birds.  However, when he looked downwards, he espyed a pair of bloody foot prints leading away from the garden house towards two rows of rose bushes.  Since there was nothing he could do for the unfortunate Mr. Biaggio, the inspector proceeded following the killers foot steps between the rose bushes.  Before too long they disappeared into some long grass and although he could see where the grass had been crushed down where the killer had stepped, he soon lost the trail when it led into the forest. 

Seeing a slight clearing ahead, carefully stepping over roots and boulders, a determined Sandy pressed on until he reached what appeared to be a riding path.  He was hoping to find some foot prints but all he found were fresh hoof marks going in both directions down the trail.  Judging by the distance they were apart, the horse had been running quite fast; most likely Lady Charlesworth on her morning ride.

When the inspector returned to the murder scene, Hobson and many of the servants had gathered around the unfortunate Mr. Biaggio.  Some were in tears but most just stood with a shocked look on their face, having never seen such a gruesome spectacle.  He thought it odd that Amelia was no where in sight and asked Hobson about her whereabouts to which he explained, “I don’t know.  I haven’t seen her this morning.  Perhaps she’s still in her room.  She often reads before coming downstairs for breakfast.”

“Hobson, will you please take the employees back to the house; have them go about their duties and then send someone to fetch an ambulance and the coroner.  And, oh yes, have the Yard send out several bobbies as well.”

When everyone had left, the inspector went inside the garden house to see if he could find any obvious clues that the hasty killer may have left behind..  Everything in the small room seemed to be in order; the tools were in their proper places, growing pots were stacked neatly, even the packet of seeds still clutched tightly in the dead man’s hand hadn’t spilled.  That’s odd, mused the inspector.  A big strong man like the gardener and there's no sign of a struggle.  Clearly, he knew his assailant. 

As inspector Addison looked at the body more closely, opening his shirt even wider than had been slashed apart by the killer, he noticed a thin narrow red mark near the hair line at  the back of his head; something had been forcibly ripped from his neck.  The slash to his throat and the stab to his eye had been very swift; not quite as clean as Sir Rodney’s but just as deadly.  The deceased, such was the deadly slash to his throat, would have bled out in a very short time; there was no need to stab him in the eye any more than cutting off his penis; those two acts blatantly confirmed his suspicion that the gardener knew his killer.. 

By the time the coroner and the ambulance arrived, plus another covered horse-drawn cart with several bobbies riding in it, Lady Charlesworth and her sister, insisting on seeing the body, looked very pale, as if they could vomit at any moment.  They thought the murder was most dispicable and couldn't believe how someone could disgracefully mutilate a body in such a manner.  When the inspector enquired about their whereabouts at the time of the murder, Lady Charlesworth had been where Hobson had said; out riding, and Amelia proclaimed that she had slept in and never heard a sound.  Who wouldn’t have heard that agonized scream; it was enough to wake the dead, thought the inspector?

After the inspector had a brief conversation with the coroner, the body carefully loaded into the ambulance and now on it's way to the morgue, a somewhat agitated Amelia asked, “Did the murderer leave any clues as to who iit might be?  It has to be someone here at the house doesn’t it?   Lady Charlesworh wrapped her arm around her sister's waist and pulled her close when she said,  “I’m scared.” 

The inspector noticed that Amelia was wearing a full length kimono and that her feet were bare and that her sister must have cleaned up after her ride.  She was wearing a long summery dress, frilly white blouse and dainty shoes.  Feeling there was something not quite right with this picture, even though it appeared all very normal, inspector Sandy Addison took a mental image of them standing together; one sister comforting the other.  When he turned away from the two sisters, now holding hands, the glare from a huge diamond on Lady Charlesworth wedding ring starkly glittering in the sunlight catching his attention; everything seemed to flash into place.

Turning back to the two sisters the inspector said to Lady Charlesworth, “Since I’ll be staying for awhile longer.  If you wouldn't mind, while I give further instructions to the bobbies, could you please have one of your cooks fix up some nice sandwiches and a pot of tea - I'm famished!" 

Lady Charlesworth was about to say she would see to it when he continued, "Also, I'd like both you and Amelia to join me in the parlor, I’m sure you'll find what I have to say, most informative.  And oh yes, one last thing, could you please send Hobson out to see me – thank you.”

After having a few words with Hobson, the inspector sent him back to the house and said, a wry grin on his face, “I believe it’s time for tea.”

When Hobson met the inspector at the front door, led him down to the parlor and ushered him through the door, he winked and quietly said, “Mum’s the word.”

When the inspector entered the room and sat down across from Lady Charlesworth and Amelia, he noticed that Amelia was now wearing what looked like the same black outfit she had worn the last time he had talked to her.

After the maid had arrived and placed a plate of tiny sandwiches without crusts on the small table set before them and poured their cups of tea, she was excused. 

“I know I shouldn’t say this, especially right after such a gruesome murder, but I’m absolutely famished!” As inspector Alexander Addison, rather than daintily nibbling, popped a large bite-sized sandwich into his mouth and began chewing he said, “I don’t know why and I hope it’s not because I see so much blood and gore but I’m always very hungry after I’ve viewed some poor victim who has come to a most unfortunate dispicable end like our dear Mr Biaggio.”

“I never would have thought so either, but you know,” exclaimed Lady Charlesworth, as she too, popped a whole sandwich into her mouth and began chewing, “I’m ravenous as well.”

Alison looked at the two of them munching on their sandwiches and said somewhat disgustingly, “How can you even eat at a time like this?  Poor Mr. Biaggio just had his throat slit from ear to ear.  I can’t possibly eat a thing!”

As they were eating their sandwiches and sipping their tea, Hobson knocked at the door and said one of the bobbies wanted to see the Inspector.  “Splendid!  Send him in,” said the inspector, I’m certain he’s uncovered some evidence at the gardener’s lodging.”

The bobby, a tall young man feeling somewhat out of place in the midst of such high social position, entered the parlor carrying what looked like an armful of satin green material.  

“Ah yes!  The mystery woman from the hotel has finally arrived.  Seeing the butler still standing near the open door he said, "Hobson, could you please pull another chair over to the table so the constable can sit our mystery lady down."

As the bobby arranged the clothing, the inspector said, "Carefully now, she’s rather delicate.  Actually…” looking at the reaction of the two women sitting across from him he continued, “...Poor woman, she’s dead now.  Some one cut her throat, stabbed her in the eye and cut off one of her appendages; one I’m sure would be sorely missed if she were still alive.”

Amelia frowned slightly and Lady Charlesworth cocked an eyebrow as if wondering where this rather comical but crude conversation was going. 

After taking another sip of tea Inspector Sandy Addison said to the patiently waiting but somewhat bewildered bobby, “You may go now but don’t stray too far.”  ...to be continued...don't miss the exciting conclusion in three days.


CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted on Tuesday, March 1, 2011.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  

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INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER - Episode 7

The next morning Inspector Addison went to the Remington Hotel.  He had heard that just one evening's dining at the hotel’s restaurant cost about as much as he earned in a month at Scotland Yard, so he could only imagine how much a suite of rooms would cost to let on a permanent basis.  After the doorman ushered him into the lobby, he walked across the thick red carpet to a long, richly carved stained black oak counter and seeing no one was in sight, rang the brass bell, which was sitting alongside some writing utensils and a small stack of newspapers.  A row of cubby boxes with little brass hangers were located on the wall behind the counter; some of them containing neatly sealed envelopes and keys.  He was about to ring the bell again when an older man who had a thick head of silver hair and pencil-thin mustache appeared from a doorway and said, “Excuse me sir.  I just had something in the back that needed tending.  I’m very sorry for the delay.  How may I be of service?”

After the inspector showed the clerk his badge and introduced himself he said, “I’ve come to investigate the murder of Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth.  Are you the hotel clerk that was on duty when he was brutally murdered less than a block away from this establishment?”

“Yes, I was on duty that night; although I shouldn’t have been.  It seems our night clerk has been making a habit of not showing up on time these days and on that particular night, he didn’t come in at all.  I'd mention his abysmal behaviour to our employer but it wouldn’t do any good since he’s related; must be nice being born with a silver spoon stuffed in your gob!” he exclaimed rather heatedly.

“Yes, I can see that would be most aggravating.  However, before I take a look at Sir Rodney’s suite, I would like to ask you a few questions about that night.”

“But I’ve already told the other investigators all I know,” he said somewhat agitatedly.

“I realize that.  But surely you must understand that Sir Rodney was a very rich and influential man in London and the quicker we find the culprit; the better it will be for everyone involved.  I expect business at the Remington Hotel has floundered somewhat since his murder.”

“Indeed no inspector; in fact it’s just the opposite; business is flourishing.  So many people are curious and want to be as close to the murder scene as possible.”

“Ah yes, people can be such a strange breed.  But about that night, could you please tell me what you remember, anthing at all and I mean anything; sometimes it's the smallest detail that is the biggest clue.  You can start with Sir Rodney entering the hotel.”

“Let me see now; it was a few days ago and if you can imagine, I was very tired by then, what with standing on my legs for hours.  I even nodded off a few times since it’s not usually very busy late at night.  Sir Rodney came in around 8:30 I believe; I can look up the exact time if you like, since it’s necessary to sign the registry when entering and leaving.”

“That won’t be necessary; please go on.”

“Shortly after his arrival, a woman wearing a long green satin gown with a red fox shawl draped over her shoulders came in and signed the registry; said Sir Rodney was expecting her.  She'd been coming to the hotel on a fairly regular basis by this time so there wasn’t any reason to ask why she was here but the Remington has a precisce procedure which we must follow regarding our guests .”

“Then you must have got a very good look at her face; could you please describe it for me.”

“I did think it somewhat odd that she always wore the same outfit with a matching hat that had a long green veil covering her entire face.  Unfortunately sir, I regret to say, I've never seen her face.”

“Well, besides the clothing, did you notice anything else unusual about her; perhaps a scar, a mole or something else distinguishable?”

“No, nothing in that way sir and it probably doesn’t mean anything; afterall, not every woman is ravishing.”

“Let me be the judge of that; please go on.”

“Well sir, if I may be so bold, under all that rich attire, her body didn’t seem so feminine, more like that of a peasant; almost masculine looking if you get what I mean.”

The inspector cocked his brow and said, “Indeed I do.  And did the woman leave before or after Sir Rodney.”

“On that I’m not too sure.  Ah yes, I remember now, she left shortly before.  One of the heels on her boots broke off just as she was walking towards the door.  She must have been a strong woman.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she suddenly bent over, reached down and grabbed the other heel with her hand and broke it off as easily as snapping a toothpick.  Come to think of it, she had taken her gloves off too and I noticed she had very big hands and I believe, yes…yes, they were callused as well.  How very odd; a fashionable woman with callused hands.”

Scratching his head, still concentrating on the mental image before him he said, “I can’t remember anything else sir.  I hope I’ve been helpful.”

“Yes my good man.  You’ve been more helpful than you can imagine.  And now, if I may, could you please direct me to Sir Rodney’s suite.”

Since Inspector Addison figured the suite would have been cleaned and tidied on a regular schedule by the hotel staff and members of Scotland Yard had already probed the premises, he didn’t really expect to find any substantial clues.  But just the same, he thought, one mustn’t overlook any possibilities, no matter how small they may appear.

After the desk clerk had let the inspector into Sir Rodney's suite, he left him standing in the centre of the large sitting room, which was richly decorated; the furniture functional and in good taste.  The tall, ornately carved armorie revealed nothing of importance, likewise the drawers and cupboards of the other matching furniture, which were pleasingly placed about the room.  The inspector was expecting to see the same sort of decor in the bedroom but when he opened the door, he was more than a little surprised.  The room's furnishings were certainly not Remington Hotel issue.  It had obviously been designed by the late Sir Rodney Broderick Charlseworth.  Mirrors had been mounted directly over the bed and the parts of the walls that weren't  covered with mirrors, hung very erotic paintings of naked men and women in various sexual positions, some of which, almost made the inspector blush.  He could only imagine what the round circular rings screwed into the bedboard and soft pieces of rope secured to each of the bedposts was used for.  The toilet area was neat and orderly and nothing unusual was detected.  However, the inspector mused, it doesn't take a Scotland Yard detective to deduce what Sir Rodney's suite was used for; clearly it was a boudoir designed for sexual pleasures.  I most likely should have arrived here sooner; before the cleaning staff and the bobbies poked through everything.  However, I believe I have almost enough information about our mystery woman to make a fairly substantial observation as to who she is; time to visit Sir Rodney’s gardener.  To be continued...


CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  

However, I'd still appreciate MORE READERS so please share this Blog with your Internet and email friends.

INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER - Episode 6

When Victoria Charlesworth entered the room, Inspector Addison was just snapping the flap shut on his leather brief case.  She said, "I hope your interrogations were satisfactory and that you’ve come to the conclusion that no one in this household had anything to do with my husband’s death.”

“Yes Lady Charlesworth, the questioning went very well thank you.  It cleared up a little of the fog regarding my investigation.  I of course can't tell you very much about this case.  However, it appears that someone in your household may know more than he or she has told me.  There’s a distinct possibility that someone here could be involved with Sir Rodney’s demise; doesn't necessarily mean they're the thief or the killer.  Since Sir Rodney is believed to have had a goodly amount of money on his person at the time of his murder, there could be perhaps more money at stake here than one might imagine.  If I may, I would like very much to have a look at Sir Rodney’s study or wherever he kept records of his business dealings, perhaps there is an obvious clue in plain sight.  Also, since Sir Rodney had no children, what is to become of his estate and other wealth; from what I hear, he was obscenely rich?”

Somewhat flustered, Lady Charlesworth pinched her bottom lip lightly with her hand and asked, “Oh dear; you really think someone here had something to do with my husband’s murder?  You must tell me who it is so I can dismiss him, and then she chuckled, “How silly of me; no need to dismiss him.  He'll be arrested of course – won’t he?”

“Why do you assume the murderer is a man Lady Charlesworth?”

“Because…because, “she stammered…”Because the way my husband died was most ghastly.  There must have been an horrendous amount of blood.  A woman couldn’t possibly do such a dreadful thing.”  

“Quite right.  You wouldn’t think so.  But let’s get back to Sir Rodney’s inheritance.”

“Like I told you earlier, I didn’t really know too much about my husband’s business affairs but he once told me that I was the sole inheritor.”

“And, I hate to bring this up Lady Charlesworth, however…” clearing his throat he continued, “Should something happen to you, God forbid, who would become the beneficiary then?”

“From what I understand, a small part of the estate would be evenly allotted to several of his nephews but the bulk of it would go to my sister.”

“And does your sister know this?”

“Yes she does.  My husband made the announcement somewhat cheerfully over dinner one evening although I don’t see anything cheery about death; he quite liked Amelia.  Heaven’s, you don’t think she had anything to do with his death?”

Ah, the plot thickens; perhaps there is more than a little buggery going on, thought Inspector Sandy Addison.  “At this point of the investigation there is no proof of your sister being involved.”

“Thank goodness,” Lady Charlesworth exclaimed.

“And now, may I please have a look at the room where he kept his business affairs.”

“Yes, yes of course.  I’ll take you there.”

As Lady Charlesworth led Inspector Addison, a few stepes behind her, down a long hallway and up a flight of stairs,  he couldn't help but notice how her narrow waist  flared into a shapely bottom and remember what Amelia had said about the gardener being such a waste of a man, except now, it appeared to be the waste of such a beautiful woman.  When she stopped in front of a large door, she asked him to wait until she returned with a key to unlock it.

After disappearing into a room further down the spacious hallway, she soon arrived back with a key on a large brass ring dangling from her fingers.  As she was unlocking the door the inspector asked, “How many people have access to this key Lady Charlesworth.”

“Only my husband; I was never allowed in his study.”

“I see," he said.  "But if he had the only key; how did it come into your possession; I would have thought it would have been hidden?"

That’s somewhat of an intimate question inspector Addison."  Although he couldn’t see her eyes clearly beneath the veil, he did notice that her cheeks reddened a touch when she continued, “My husband and I had our own separate bedrooms and one of the rare times I shared his bed and we made love; he thought I was asleep.  But I wasn't and I watched him go into his study.  Upon his return, I saw where he hid the key.  Sometimes when he went away on business, I'd go into his study to see what he was up to, especially since he hardly ever told me anything about his dealings but all I ever found were some ledgers, boring business papers and the odd letter from bankers and other professional people.  I imagine, since we very seldom slept together, I had suspicions about him having an affair with another woman.  I suppose without my realizing, I was actually searching for an incriminating love letter but I never found anything of that nature.”

When the door was unlocked and they stepped inside the room, after seeing so many large and lavish rooms throughout the house, Inspector Addison was surprised to see that Sir Rodney’s study was quite small and unpretentious.  There was only one window, which looked out across a well manicured lawn that contained a large sculpted pond; three white swans slowly gliding across the sparkling water added to its simplicity.  A large oil painting hanging directly behind his desk was most likely Sir Rodney’s father because the resemblance between the two men was remarkable.  Besides Sir Rodney's well padded black leather armchair, three other matching chairs could be seen, except they didn’t have arms.  The walls were lined with leather bound books and not all pertaining to business – many of the shelves contained works of literature written by renowned authors.  The room was meticulous, even the desk, although there were a few piles of paper on it, seemed to be very orderly as well.  Besides several quills standing in a narrow gold urn on a large ink blotter, there was a matching gold ink container and a long thin silver letter opener with what looked like initials engraved on the hilt.  As the Inspector looked around the room, his eyes subconsciously memorizing every object, he pointed at another door and said, “I assume that’s the door leading to his bed chambers.”

“Yes it is.  Would you like to go in?”

“No thank you, unless of course he had the only key.”

“The door was always locked when he was away on business but the key to his room as well as the keys to many of the other rooms are kept in the servant’s area.  My husband would sometimes become very irate if his room and any of the other rooms were not kept clean and tidy at all times.”

Going around to the back of the desk, the inspector asked as he was already opening a drawer, “May I?”

“Yes of course if you must.  Perhaps a professional search may turn up a clue.”

As Inspector Addison searched through the drawers, Lady Charlesworth sat down on one of the chairs that was closest to the window.  As she watched the swans, appearing to be eating something beneath the water because all their heads were submerged, her thoughts were interrupted by the inspector, “I presume Sir Rodney has a safe.”

“Oh yes, yes of course; it’s located in the wall under the portrait of his father.  I believe you’ll find it unlocked and the contents much the same as what you’ve already discovered in the desk.  He never kept anything of real value such as cash in it; mostly deeds, signed agreements and other pertinent material regarding his estate.  I believe his lawyer Mr. Andrew Bailey has my husband’s last will and testament at his office, if that’s what you’re searching for.”

“I’ll of course be having a visit with Mr. Bailey.  Since the amount of wealth accrued by Sir Rodney's own personal business dealings and inherited from his forefathers is vast; money makes a very potential motive.”

“That should do it for now Lady Charlesworth: I believe I’ve seen all there is to see here for the time being.  However, if you don’t mind, would you please make sure that everything remains the same in your husband’s study.  I may have to take a closer look at things and what's inside the safe later on.”

“You've told me a little bit about your investigation Inspector Addison.  I don't suppose you have any idea how long it will take before you solve my husband's dreadful murder?”

“I believe were making headway Lady Charlesworth and even though the Bobbies have questioned the clerk at the Remington Hotel and are still questioning may of the people living in the immediate area, I believe I shall visit the hotel tomorrow and have a look at the suite where your late husband was last seen alive.  You did know that he kept a private suite at the hotel didn’t you?”

The inspector didn’t think Ladsy Charlesworth acted as surprised as she should have when she answered.  “No.  But I’m beginning to feel not too upset about what I’m hearing – it appears that my husband was hiding more than I could have ever imagined.”  To be continued...


CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  

However, I'd still appreciate MORE READERS so please share this Blog with your Internet and email friends.

INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER - Episode 5

Clearing his throat, the inspector asked, “How well did you know your sister’s husband Amelia and did the two of you get along?”

 “Strange, now that you mention it.  Although I’ve lived with Victoria and Rodney for quite some time now, I really didn’t know him that well.  We got along alright; everything was very polite if you know what I mean.  I'm not quite sure what my sister saw in him but I do know she was terribly in love with him; practically worshipped the ground he trod on.

“Did Sir Rodney ever make any advances towards you?” the inspector asked curiously.

“No!  Heavens no!” she exclaimed.  “But Victoria must have known something was going on.  Rodney often came home very late at night.  I'm sure he conducted a fair amount of business with his cronies at the men's club, but late at night seems highly unlikely to me.”

“What do you mean?” asked the inspector, his curiosity suddenly climbing to a higher level.  “Do you think he was having an affair with another woman?”

“Oh, he was having an affair alright, but not with another woman; gracious no; it was a man!  Poor Victoria; it would be a terrible disgrace if she knew what he was up to and if the news about her husband became public.  Is there any way possible that you can keep all this hush, hush inspector?”

Inspector Sandy Addison was visibly shaken after hearing what Sir Rodney had been up to.  “I can’t make any promises but I’ll certainly try to do my best to keep the information private.  However, it will be most difficult if this man Sir Rodney was seeing becomes an earnest suspect.

“But…how can you be so certain that he was having an affair with another man?”

“I often go walking and one afternoon, as I was stolling along one of the riding trails a short distance from the stables, I came across Rodney standing waist deep in a wheat field and I thought it odd that he didn’t have his shirt on; he was always so concerned about being properly dressed.  His back was turned to me and I was about to hale him when a man suddenly stood up in front of him.  They put their arms around one and another and it looked to me like they were kissing.”

“And did either of the men see you Alison, especially the one standing in front of Sir Charlesworth because if he’s the killer and I’m not saying he is, you could be in grave danger?”

“No, I don’t believe he saw me.  I was standing in the shade between some bushes under a big tree and as soon as the man stood up, I carefully backed up behind the tree.  I think they would have acted more than a little alarmed if they had noticed anyone was watching, especially after they both ducked down into the wheat field and I could hear them both moaning.  It wasn’t difficult to imagine what those two buggers were up to.”

Thinking he was finally getting somewhere and his hunch about the case being more than just a robbery gone wrong, inspector Addison inquired, “If the man didn’t see you; did you happen to see his face by any chance?”

“As you can imagine, I was rather intrigued about what they were up to and not wanting Rodney to come to any harm, I stayed hidden behind the tree for some time before discreetly moving on.”

The inspector could see her eyes were twinkling with delight as she continued, “I actually got to see more than I really wished, but yes, I did catch a glimpse of the man’s face.  It was the gardener; the really good looking one with all the muscles – such a shame – such a waste of a handsome man.”

Since Amelia’s face was somewhat flushed, noticing her bosoms were slightly heaving after her discourse, the inspector cleared his throat once again and said, “That would be Mr. Anthony Biaggio; would it not?  Is he from Italy?”

“He and his family emigrated from Italy when he was just a small boy; you may have heard a slight accent when you were questioning him,” she answered.

The inspector was about to say that she had been extremely helpful when the colour of her lipstick caught his attention once again.  He said, “I couldn’t help noticing the delightful aroma of your perfume and the shade of your lipstick.  If I could be so bold, could you please tell me the name of the establishment you acquired them?”

“Amelia blushed slightly and said, "Oh, thank you inspector, I didn't think men noticed such things.  My sister and I both wear the same shade of lipstick,” she exclaimed visibly curious, “Presents for your wife or do you have a girl inspector?”

“Neither.  It’s for my sister, he lied.  Her birthday is this coming weekend and I always have difficulty getting her something she would like.  However, I’m sure she would love the same lipstick and perfume that you're wearing.”

After Amelia told the Inspector where she procured her perfume and lipstick, he lifted his watch out of his vest pocket and exclaimed, after seeing how late it was, “I must be going.  You’ve been most helpful Amelia.”

“But aren’t you going to question Mr. Biaggio anymore,” Amelia asked, feeling slightly dejected after enjoying her time with the inspector. 

“No.  Not today.  And I’d really appreciate you’re not discussing anything we’ve talked about this afternoon, especially to Mr. Biaggio.  Thank you for your assistance and clarifying a few thoughts I was having difficulty with.  Could you please ask Lady Charlesworth to come and see me for a few minutes, while I put away my notes?”

Amelia stood and straightened her long black dress with her slender hands and said, “Of course.” 

The Inspector watched her cross the room and open the door and as she was about to shut it behind her, she turned and said somewhat flippantly, “This is all so exciting - except of course for poor Rodney – what a terrible end he came to.”

As he waited for Lady Charlesworth to arrive, the inspector thought, Sir Charlesworth, the gardener and the butler – quite the threesome.  And Amelia’s lipstick and Lady Charlesworth being the same shade of red; how curious.    I wonder who wears the other shade of lipstick and if there’s something Amelia isn’t telling me.  “Hmm, the other shade of lipstick?” he quietly queried.  “Perhaps Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth enjoyed the pleasures of other women as well – how cavalier.”  To be continued...

Lenny's Murder/Mystery CONTEST HAS BEGUN!   The last episode will expose the thief and dastardly murderer and of course there will be clues along the way as the story unravels for the reader to figure out, which person killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth.  

CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  

However, I'd still appreciate MORE READERS so please share this Blog with your Internet and email friends.

INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER - Episode 4

“I find your answers to my questions somewhat vague Hobson?"  Attempting to get a much clearer declaration to his questioning he continued, “The evening Sir Rodney was murdered you told me that it was your night off and you stayed at a friend’s house; is that correct?”

“Yes,” the butler answered rather forcefully.  “That’s what I said, but I disapprove of giving you the person’s name.”

“Well Hobson, that can't be helped, I need to verify your alibi.  Rest assured I’ll be very discreet, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“Do you promise not to tell another living soul inspector?” Hobson pleaded as he looked over his shoulder at the door as if to make certain it was closed and no one was listening to their conversation.

“I give you my word of honour Hobson, no one will ever know except us and the other person you name,” assured Inspector Addison.

The butler sighed deeply, “I suppose if you must know but you have to be sure that no one else learns about this because it will mean my services will no longer be necessary and I doubt very much that anyone else will employ me.”  Glancing once more at the door and lowering his voice almost to a whisper he said, “I spent the night with the gardener.”

“Ah,” the Inspector quietly exclaimed.  “One plus one equals two; now that explains why the gardener was often times rather hesitant about answering my questions.” 

“What did he say to you?” asked the butler.

“Discretion my dear Hobson; anything anybody has told me thus far has been for my ears only.  You may go now.”

“Now you’re absolutely sure you won’t tell anyone about what I’ve told you?” Hobson worriedly asked.

“Positively – mum’s the word.”

As the butler walked to the door, the inspector told him to tell Lady Charlesworth that he had finished with his inquiries and if she would be so kind to join him for a few minutes before he left, it would be highly appreciated.

A few minutes went by before the widow arrived and he asked her to please close the door and have a seat.  Lifting her long skirt slightly, she settled into one of the large overstuffed chairs across from the inspector and said, “Did you have any problems with the employees; I told them to answer truthfully any question you asked even if it wasn’t in my best interests?”

“They were all very polite and I believe answered the questions truthfully.”

“So Inspector Addison, are any of them a suspect?” she slyly inquired.

“I’m sorry Lady Charlesworth, but I’m not at liberty to answer that question.  However, you can be assured that once an arrest is made, you will be the first to learn of it.”

“You’re a rather quiet man aren’t you Inspector Addison – a real thinker – there’s more to you than what you portray,” she determined rather than asked a question.  “I have a great deal of confidence that you will find the heinous, despicable murderer who killed my dear unfortunate husband.”

“Thank you for your confidence Lady Charlesworth; I’ll try not to let you down.  However, before I leave, I’d like to ask you one or two last questions. 

"Firstly, were there any of Sir Charlesworth's friends or business aquaintances that you could think of who would have wanted your husband dead"

"None that I could think of inspector; all the ones I know about have shown only satisfaction with their transactions.  The only one I could think of who'd he'd been somewhat upset about was his banker but that was over a year ago and they seemed to be on very friendly terms now.  As a matter of fact, he and his wife came to dinner about a month ago." 

Besides some of your staff; is there anyone else living in the house?”

“My mother lived with us up till about a year ago before she died but I suppose you already knew that,” she said.

“No I did not,” replied Inspector Addison.  “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Both my mother and my older sister Amelia came to live with us about two years ago.  My sister still lives here.  She has a large suite on the east wing which faces the rose garden; it’s a very beautiful view.”

“From what I've seen of your grounds, I’m sure the view is sensational.  “But I must have a word with her too.”

“You don’t think my sister Amelia had anything to do with my husband’s gruesome murder do you Inspector Addison?”

“It's just preliminary police standards.  I’ve questioned everyone in the household Lady Charlesworth– you wouldn’t want your sister to be left out would you?” he said, wondering whether or not the grieving widow had any sense of humour.

A slight smile appeared below the veil as she said, “No.  I guess not.  I’ll have Hobson fetch her.”

“It’s been a long day for you Inspector Addison?  Would you care for some refreshments?”

“Yes please.  A tall glass of water would be in order – thank you.”

Shortly after the maid arrived with a decanter of water, filled his glass and left, Hobson showed Lady Charlesworth’s sister into the parlor.

As Inspector Addison lightly shook Amelia’s extended hand and introduced himself he said, “I’m sorry, your sister didn’t tell me your last name.”

“It’s Danforth,” she replied, “Amelia Danforth but please, just call me Amelia; it doesn’t sound so formal.”

“Thank you Mrs. Dan…I mean Amelia,” the Inspector stuttered purposely.

“Oh dear, I’m not a Mrs. – I’m very single,” corrected Amelia who appeared to like what she saw in Sandy's rugged good looks.

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the lady is flirting with me, he thought.

Like her sister, Amelia was dressed in black, except she wasn’t wearing a hat or a veil to cover her face or her long blonde hair, which was meticulously tied into a large bun on the top of her head with a wide black bow.  The inspector thought she looked very elegant and her movements sensuous as she lifted her low-cut dress slightly, exposing a pair of high buttoned black boots.  When she sat down on the sofa, which was next to his chair and finished straightening her attire, she leaned slightly forward, exposing her ample cleavage.  However, it wasn't her womanly attributes, which caught his interest, it was her smile; the lipstick was the same shade, which had been discovered on Sir Charlesworth.  Hmm, very interesting, he thought.  To be continued...

Lenny's Murder/Mystery CONTEST HAS BEGUN!   The last episode will expose the thief and dastardly murderer and of course there will be clues along the way as the story unravels for the reader to figure out, which person killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth.  

CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  

However, I'd still appreciate MORE READERS so please share this Blog with your Internet and email friends.

INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER - Episode 3

When Inspector Sandy Addison returned to Scotland Yard, he knocked on his superintendant’s office door and entered when he heard, “Come in please.”

“Ah, Inspector Addison, close the door and have a seat.”

As Sandy sat down and comfortably arranged his 6’ well-built frame on the chair he said, “I’ve just returned from questioning the widow, Lady Charlesworth.”

“And how was your visit with Mrs. Charlesworth Sandy?”  (The superintendant always called him Sandy once the office door was closed.)  It's not because he wasn't a stickler for regimentation or systematic and rigid order, because he was; the police force was all about uniformity and doing things strictly by the book; doing one's duty fully; stiff upper lip and all that it encompasses and he embraced the Yard's policies.  However, unlike some of the other officers under his authority, although not yet quite 35, Inspector Alexander Addison, because he was somewhat gifted more than the others and had a distinguishable record for solving  the more intricate and difficult cases, he had a high opininion of Sandy and in some way found him to be on the same level, although he most certainly would not avow to that.

“Lady Charlesworth was most cooperative sir and I suspect she may have more knowledge about her husband's death than she revealed.  It was obvious that she was still very upset about her husband’s murder and I felt that I had pushed her as far as I could for the moment.  However, I did mention that I would return soon to question her house employees, grounds-keeping staff and stable hands and for her to consider before my arrival, if she knew of anyone who would benefit from Sir Charlesworth's death.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to question the widow any further at this point; but a question or two to the staff regarding their whereabouts during the crime is most definitely in order.  However, it looks like an open and shut case to me Sandy; isn’t it rather obvious that he was murdered for his valuables?”

“It might appear that way sir but I have a hunch there’s more to this case than a simple robbery.  If you don’t mind, I’d like to continue this investigation by however means I feel is necessary.”

The superintendant had cocked an eyebrow when Sandy  mentioned the word "hunch" because he'd used that rather brash terminology before with amazing results.  “Quite right Sandy," the superintendant replied. 

"As you know Sir Charlesworth was a very prominent and well respected man in London; indeed in all of England.  The pressure is intense to get this case solved. The higher-ups are already on my back concerning locating the murderer and standing him in front of a judge and jury.  I have a good man in the robbery division looking after that end of the case and should you need any additional help Sandy, just ask. This outrageous villain must be arrested and brought to justice by any means possible and the sooner the better."

Pulling at the tip of his thick grey mustache and leaning a little more forward across his large wooden desk the superintendant looked Sandy in the eye and continued, “Have you discovered any solid clues as to who the culprit could be?  I heard there were no eye-witnesses and nothing of any value reported from the scene of the crime, other than what was stolen.  The pawn shops and other disreputable establishments of that nature are being thoroughly investigated, since Sir Charlesworth’s slayer may tattempt selling the stolen articles.  I understand his rings alone were worth a considerable sum, not to mention the diamond studded pocket watch and what about his gold medallion with the initial ‘A’?  Do you know what or who the initial stands for?"  As Sandy shook his head the inspector said, "Thought not.  However, all the stolen items are very distinctive and easily identified should they suddenly turn up.”

"At this point, I don't really have anything substantial or incriminating to report sir.  There’s just something very odd about this robbery that's nagging at my curiosity.  Although the crime scene was a bloody ghastly mess, there still appeared to be a form of tidiness in the way the killer handled the body.  You can be sure that I'll put every means possible at my disposal to get to the bottom of this case.”

“Then, if you’ve told me everything you know Sandy, I suggest you get cracking – if we don’t solve this case very soon; some of us could quite possibly lose their jobs if you get my drift?”

When Sandy left his Superintendant’s office, he sent a message to Lady Charlesworth telling her that he’d like to interrogate her staff tomorrow morning at 11:00am promptly.

The next morning, when he walked through the door into the large entranceway of Lady Charlesworth’s house, she had her entire staff standing in a row.  Each of them were introduced in turn and their position in the household stated.       

Inspector Addison noticed, although it was a different dress from their previous meeting, the widow was still attired in black and wearing a matching hat with a veil, “With your permission Lady Charlesworth, for privacy sake and professional confidentiality, may I please question your staff one at a time in your parlor?”

“Yes of course,” she answered.  “Hobson will usher them in as required.  And will you need to ask me any further questions inspector?”

“Not at this time Lady Charlesworth,” Sandy politely replied.  “Perhaps a little later if it’s convenient.”

“Since the kitchen staff are in the midst of preparing lunch for several people who will be arriving shortly to give their condolences, I’d prefer that they were the first one’s you talk to.”

“Of course Lady Charlesworth.  I don't want to upset the running of your household any more than is completely necessary.  Hobson, could you please send in the first employee in just a few minutes.  I’d like to get my things in order first.  Thank you.”

After he had questioned the cooks, the regular household and stable employees; it wasn't until the third and last gardener was ushered into the parlor that he began to become a little more than just curious.  When Sandy asked him the same questions as all the previous employees, the very handsome and ruggedly built gardener seemed evasive and kept glancing at the door as if he wanted to get away.  And, when he asked him where he was the night of the murder and he said that he went to bed early and slept the whole night through; it somehow just didn’t feel right.  However, since he couldn’t disprove his story, he reluctantly let him leave.

It was fairly late in the afternoon by the time Hobson told him there weren’t any other employees to interrogate and asked if he should inform Lady Charlesworth, since the questioning was over.

The inspector said, “Not yet, there’s still one employee remaining.”

“But who else is there sir?” asked Hobson.

“You.  I haven’t asked you any questions yet.”

“But surely sir, you don’t think I had anything to do with Sir Charlesworth's death?”

“Hobson my dear man, it’s not what I think but what I know.  Everyone that knew the deceased is a suspect until proven otherwise.  It’s a matter of elimination and so far you haven’t been eliminated.  So, if you would kindly take a seat, I'd like to ask you  the same questions I've been asking everyone else.”

Like the gardener, Hobson seemed a little evasive and didn’t answer the questions very quickly.  He seemed to be studying the inspector’s reactions and appeared to be weighing his thoughts before answering.  And, when it came to the last question, “Where and what were you doing on the night of the murder?” Hobson seemed to work around the answer, being as evasive as a politician, saying a lot yet not really giving a straight answer.  To be continued... 

Lenny's Murder/Mystery CONTEST HAS BEGUN!   The last episode will expose the thief and dastardly murderer and of course there will be clues along the way as the story unravels for the reader to figure out, which person killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth.  

CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  

However, I'd still appreciate MORE READERS so please share this Blog with your Internet and email friends.

INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER - Episode 2

As Inspector Addison was studying an almost life-sized bronze sculpture depicting a partially attired muscular man holding a spear, about to plunge it into an attacking wolf, Hobson opened the door and ushered Lady Charlesworth into the parlor.  Her dead husband was not an old man by any means but his wife in comparison, looked very young.  Being in mourning, she wore a long black dress that almost touched the floor.  It was made of silk that shimmered in the sunlight streaming through the windows and rustled lightly as she walked across the room and sat down.  She wore a small matching hat and although the veil covered the top portion of her face, he could tell that she was a very beautiful woman.  With such a beauty to share his bed, he couldn’t help wondering why the late Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth would have had such a roving eye.

After the introductions were made Lady Charlesworth said, “Shall I have the maid bring us some tea or would you prefer some other refreshment?”

“No thank you Lady Charlesworth, I promise this visit will be very short.  I'm terribly sorry for your loss; I expect it came as a great shock."

"Yes, thank you inspector.  It was indeed a great shock - I can hardly believe he's gone.  We'd been making arrangements to go to our country estate soon to spend the remainder of the summer there, and now this," she said stifling a sob.

After the inspector gave Lady Charlesworth suitable time to compose herself and wipe some tears from her eyes he said, "I need to ask you a few questions regarding your husband’s whereabouts last night.  I realize it’s probably not a good time to do so, so soon after his death, but it's imperative that I get on with the investigation.  I hope you realize that the fresher the memory is regarding yesterday’s event; the better it is for us to proceed.”

Lady Charlesworth nodded her head and told him she understood and to proceed with his questions.

“I'd first like to ask you if your husband was in the habit of being out so late at night, since the approximate time of his death was very close to midnight?”

“I didn’t keep tight tabs on his comings and goings,” Lady Charlesworth said somewhat perturbed by the question.  “He often went to his Private Club in the evenings and I have no idea what he did while he was there.”

After a few more questions, slowly building her up to the more intimate and personal inquiries, the inspector asked, “Did you know that your husband went to see someone at the Remington Hotel last night?”

Before replying, she rang the servant’s bell that was hanging next to her chair and said, “I believe I will have some refreshments after all, if you don’t mind inspector?”

“No, not at all,” he replied..

When the maid arrived, she asked her to fetch a decanter of Scotch and two glasses – looking at her inquisitor across the room Lady Charlesworth said, “In case you change your mind inspector.

Now where were we?  Oh yes, you asked about Sir Rodney seeing someone at the hotel.”  After pondering the question for a few moments she continued, “He had so many business dealings; I wouldn’t be at all surprised that was the reason he was at the hotel.”

Trying to put his next question as politely as he could Inspector Addison asked, “Did your husband have any business clients who were women?”

The inspector could tell that he’d hit a raw nerve because Lady Charlesworth was nervously twisting her hanky and rubbing her hands together.  As if saved from answering the question, she relaxed a little, when the maid returned, opened the parlor door and pushed a tea caddy into the room, which contained a half full crystal decanter of Scotch, a matching decanter of water and two tall glasses.  After the maid poured her mistress a glass of Scotch, she asked the patient inspector, “And you sir?  Would you care for a glass as well?”

“No thank you,” he replied.  “I’m on duty.”

The maid was about to add some water to Lady Charlesworth’s glass when she said, “Not now thank you.  I believe I’d like to experience the full benefit of the Scotch.”

Taking a long sip, the amber liquid slightly burning her throat as she swallowed, she coughed slightly and said, “As far as I know he didn’t have any business dealings with women.  Are you insinuating that there was a woman at the hotel and, is she the main suspect?”

“We're not positive that your husband had actually been with a woman at the Remington Hotel since the clerk at the desk was very vague as to the comings and goings of the guests." 

The inspector watched the widow take a rather large gulp of Scotch before proceeding with the investigation.  “I’m sorry to have to ask you these very personal, and I suspect, possibly hurtful questions, but traces of lipstick were found on your husband's body.  Do you have any idea who he may have visited at the hotel; it could be very helpful and I promise to be very discreet?”

As Lady Charlesworth rubbed one of her long slender fingers along the brim of her glass, the inspector noticed a tear trickling down her cheek from under the veil.  When she regained her composure, wiping the tear away with her hanky she answered, “I’ve suspected for a long time that my husband had been seeing someone fairly regularly but I have no idea who she is.”

“I don’t know why I should be mourning; it’s not the first time he’s been unfaithful," and upon saying that, she removed her hat, which had been pinned to her thick wavy blonde hair and placed it on the tea caddy alongside the decantor of Scotch.  Her eyes glistening with tears she added, “I loved him very much and although we were for the most part generally happy, I knew he had secrets.  However, when I confronted him about his liaisons, he told me I was just imagining them, there wasn't anyone else in his life other than me.  I wanted desperately to believe him; so I did.”

After weighing the questions and answers, the inspector stood up. “Thank you Lady Charlesworth.  I realize it’s been very hard for you to answer my questions and please except my apologies, but if you should think of anything, and I do mean anything, which might lead us to your husband’s killer, please get in touch with me right away.”

Just as he was about to leave he said, “I don't believe his death was the result of a random robbery; he may have known the murderer.  After I see how far the investigation has progressed back at Scotland Yard, I’d like to come back and question your staff and anyone else who is living in your house.  At that time, could you please inform me if he had any  friends or someone regarding his business affairs who might have wanted him dead."  Excusing himself and seeing Lady Charlesworth about to stand up he said,  No need to get up or ring for the butler, I’ll see myself to the door.”

Just as the inspector opened the door, he caught sight of Hobson disappearing around a corner near the front entrance of the house.  He thought, probably listening at the door to our every word; wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he'd been looking through the keyhole too.  It’ll be good to question the staff because they often know much more than what they let on. 

Lenny's Murder/Mystery CONTEST HAS BEGUN!   The last episode will expose the thief and dastardly murderer and of course there will be clues along the way as the story unravels for the reader to figure out, which person killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth.  

CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  

However, I'd still appreciate MORE READERS so please share this Blog with your Internet and email friends.

INSPECTOR ADDISON - THE REMINGTON MURDER

A body is lying peacefully on a long, narrow wooden table, which has four large wheels at the base of its legs.  Except for the right foot, which is bare and protrudes slightly over the edge of the table, the person is completely covered by an overly starched, white-linen sheet.  Attached to his big toe by a thin strand of string is a small rectangular piece of white paper with rounded corners stating:  Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth.  He is lying dead in the local morgue as an inspector from Scotland Yard and the coroner discuss his perilous demise; a murderous thief appears to be the villainous culprit.

Three hours earlier, Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth was a virile living man and one of the richest men in London.  That is, until he stepped out the door, under the well-lit protective awning of a rather lavish establishment called the Remington Hotel.  After adjusting his tall, black top hat, cocking it at the correct angle, he then carefully and meticulously turned up his coat collar to protect him from the heavy mist that lay like a lead blanket across the city.  It was late at night and it would be close to midnight before he arrived home – but not tonight – he had a date with a murderer and a coroner. 

As Sir Charlesworth made his way towards a horse drawn Hansom cab standing under a gas-lit street lamp about a block away; crossing over a cobblestone narrow roadway leading down a very dark alley, a figure clothed in a long black cape emerged out of the gloom and grabbed him by the neck.  Before he could yell for help, he saw a glint of metal just before it ripped across his throat.  As he lay on the cold wet stones, his red blood gushing out each time his heart beat, his assailant bent over him.  When the black silken scarf, which had been partially masking the killer’s identity was lowered, Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth, his life’s blood gurgling and pooling about his body, red rivulets flowing between the cobblestones, looked into his killer’s eyes and managed to gasp, “You!  But why…?”

The killer, unseen by the cab driver, and now too, Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth, bent even closer over the dead man until it appeared their heads were touching.  Like a last farewell, the murderer, lingered in the misty air, before quickly searching through the dead man’s clothes.  His breast pocket revealed a large thick wallet with the initials RBC inscribed into the rich brown leather; the money removed; the wallet was tossed aside like the dregs of a warm glass of ale.  A diamond ring was removed from his right index finger as well as a gold wedding band on the third finger of his left hand.  After removing a gold and diamond-studded pocket watch attached to a gold chain, the killer then carefully unbuttoned the dead man’s white satin shirt and gently removed a gold necklace, which had a large gold medallion attached to it.  Then, like a demonic wraith, the murderer took one last look at Mr. Rodney Broderick Charlesworth, wiped the blood off the weapon and vanished into the murky mist of the alley.

Inspector Alexander (Sandy) Addison asked the coroner if he could identify the type of weapon used to kill Sir Charlesworth, to which he replied, “The blade was quite slim, long and very sharp but not as sharp as a razor; if I had to harbour a guess, I would say it was some type of stiletto; not a heavy knife by any means.”

“Did you come up with any other clues, which may be helpful,” asked the inspector.

“I’m not sure,” said the corner, “But take a look at this.”  Lifting the white sheet off the dead man’s head and carefully arranging it around his neck so the ghastly gash wasn’t visible, he pointed at Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth’s lips and said, "See there – that’s lipstick.  He was with a woman tonight.  There's also a slight smear near his penis but it’s a brighter shade of red.  It appears Mr. Rodney Charlesworth had a lively night before his demise.”

The inspector bent over very closely to the dead man’s face and asked as he extracted a white hanky from his suit pocket, “May I take a sample of the two lipstick smears from the deceased?”

“Go ahead,” said the coroner, “But I suspect London is full of women wearing those identical shades of lipstick.”

“Quite right,” said the inspector, “But not all of them are murderesses; if indeed our killer is a woman.  However, it’s highly unusual for a woman to slice a man’s throat; usually I’ve discovered, a well-aimed revolver or a deadly poison is more their style.

“And, when I arrived at the scene of the crime, I could see that whoever killed Sir Rodney Charlesworth was a very tidy person.  I believe a common thief would have just ripped his shirt open and left his pockets hanging inside out.”  Shaking his head, while he was tidying the white sheet over the stif cadaver he continued, “No – this was a tidy thief; some one who either respected their dead victim or perhaps knew him – that’s my theory.”

There were no eye witnesses to the murderer; the person who found the body was just an innocent passerby; had one too many drinks before closing time at the local pub, if you know what I mean?  Tomorrow, I shall visit the mourning widow; I hear she took the news rather badly; she was really in despair regarding her husband’s murder.”

The next morning, after arriving at the widow’s residence, Inspector Sandy Addison rapped smartly on the door, which was opened by a polite younger than usual, yet stately looking butler named Hobson who asked the nature of his business.  After ushering the inspector into the spacious parlor; its furnishings, intricately carved and luxuriously upholstered, the décor, extravagant and somewhat Draconian, the butler asked if he could take the inspector’s hat and coat.

The inspector declined and while waiting for the lady of the house to arrive, he carefully looked at everything in the room and casually searched through some drawers and cupboards.  Unlike the other Scotland Yard inspectors, Inspector Sandy Addison had one extremely rare and valuable talent.  He could casually observe a whole room and later, at his beckoning, could recall everything he saw once again – Inspector Sandy Addison had a photographic memory.  To be continued...

Lenny's Murder/Mystery CONTEST HAS BEGUN!   The last episode will expose the thief and dastardly murderer and of course there will be clues along the way as the story unravels for the reader to figure out, which person killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth.  

CONTEST RULES:   Participant must subscribe to my Newsletter, which can be located at the top of this Blog in order to enter the contest.  It's very easy to do and you can take yourself off the mailing list whenever you choose.   Participant must determine who killed Sir Rodney Broderick Charlesworth - only one answer per person to be emailed to lenwsherman@gmail.com before the last episode is posted.  Should there be more than one correct answer there will be a random draw for the final winner!  GOOD LUCK!  


However, I'd still appreciate MORE READERS so please share this Blog with your Internet and email friends. 

JUNE AND THE OLD FOOL - Final Chapter

Since Charlie and Marjorie never had any children and he had outlived pretty much all his relatives except for several nephews and nieces who he'd never met, June took it upon herself to care for him.  However, as his disease progressed, she had known that one day she would be forced to do something she had been dreading for a long time, and that day, had finally arrived.  Around ten in the morning, Charlie fell asleep on the chesterfield while watching a TV program, which was often the case.  June, taking advantage of the interlude, went upstairs and packed some of his clothes and toiletry items into a small suitcase and then put it on the backseat of her car.  When he awoke, she told him they were going for a drive, she had some friends she wanted to see and introduce him to.  Being rather childlike much of the time, drifting in and out of reality, Charlie was excited to go for a drive.  However, it wasn’t friends she was taking him to see, it was a home for the elderly and dementia afflicted.  She had already made the necessary arrangements about a week before and some of his furniture and personal things had already been moved to his room.

June and Charlie arrived around noon and joined some of the residents of Pleasant Valley Home for lunch.  She was of course very nervous about Charlie and how he might react.  Tears welled up in her eyes every time she thought about leaving him behind in the care of strangers, even though they all seemed very nice and caring.  After lunch, they walked hand in hand through all the common rooms, which the residents shared.  The residents' or clients' (as the staff preferred) lodgings were located in the centre of the building.  The building had been prurposely designed in this manner, so that the more confused residents would eventually find their own places.  The outside wall of the circular walkway had full-length windows, which looked out onto an enclosed outdoor courtyard containing a small pond and gardens.  Although the individual rooms were numbered like an address on a house; a large photograph of the person living in each room was posted on the door in order to make things a little easier.  On Charlie’s door, she had placed a large blown-up black and white photo of him and Marjorie when they were very young and had not been married very long.  They both had loved swimming and the photo depicted the happy couple wearing bathing suits of that period.  She was very pretty and he looked very strong and handsome holding his wife high above his head, her legs and feet close together and her arms outstretched, as if she was flying.

After taking a stroll hand in hand throughout the open courtyard looking at all the beautiful flowers and shrubbery, they came back indoors. Unsure about what to say June asked, “How do you like living here in your new home?  It's very nice and so peaceful, especially out in the garden.”

“Do I live here?” he asked.  “It does look very familiar; how long have I lived here?”

"Not too long," she answered.

When they arrived at his door; they stood looking at the photo of him and his wife.  “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes, very beautiful,” June replied.

When Charlie turned and looked at June as if questioning their conversation, it was if a light was turning on inside his foggy head.  “I’m feeling tired now," he said.  "Will you come and see me tomorrow?”

“Of course Charlie; I’ll come everyday to see you and bring a plate of your favourite cookies.”

When Charlie opened the door and entered the room, he suddenly turned around.  “It is very peaceful here.  However, some of the neighbours seem a bit odd.”  And then lifting his hand; gently waving  goodbye he said, "See you tomorrow.".

At the beginning of Charlie's stay, June would often take him out for walks to a nearby park, sometimes to a restaurant and on occasion, she would take him to a full-length indoor swimming pool.  He still enjoyed swimming but one day, while they were swimming together, her slightly in front of him at the deep end, she looked back and there was no Charlie!  He had sunk and was sprawled out on the bottom of the pool.  Frantically, thinking he'd had a stroke or a heart attack and was drowning, she dived down and pulled him to the surface.  Thinking he'd drowned, she pulled him as fast as she could to the shallow end of the pool.  When he opened his eyes and took a deep breath she asked him what happened and he simply said, “I forgot.”  Like many things in Charlie’s life, he was forgetting more and more with each day.  Often, when she came, rather than going for a walk even around the outside courtyard, she would just sit with him and hold his hand.  It eventually got to the point, at times, he was unable to even feed himself.  On those mornings, she would tie a large bib around his neck and feed him with a spoon.  He just stared at the wall with a blank expression on his face, as if he was searching for the long lost Charlie that was hidden deep somewhere inside of him.  It saddened her to see this once lively and virile man, even up until he was in his early 80’s, turning into an almost helpless child.

Many months had passed since Charlie first moved into Pleasant Valley Home and sometimes when June arrived, he would be quite cheerful and fairly lucid as if he had been miraculously cured – it seems there were periods, although very short term, when Charlie actually knew who she was.  Although she had to admit, her favourite times with him was when he mistakenly thought she was his wife and called her Marge; they’d even attempted making love in his room at one time and if an orgasm had been achieved, it would have only been by laughing outragously at themselves.

One warm summer day when June came to visit Charlie, since he was unable to walk any longer, she asked a couple of the staff working at Pleasant Valley Home to help her put him in a wheelchair; she was taking him to the park where they often used to walk hand in hand like new found lovers.  When they arrived at the park; noticing a bit of drool running from the corner of Charlie’s mouth, she wiped it away with a handkerchief.  Pushing the wheelchair ahead of her, she stopped at a park bench where they had often sat.  Charlie didn’t talk much anymore and often when he did, it just sounded like a lot of gibberish.  This moment in time at the park bench must have been one of Charlie’s getting-back-in-touch-days because he suddenly looked up at June and said, “Would you please push the wheelchair out on the lawn.”

June wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not as the lawn looked damp and a little spongy.  However, seeing how important it seemed to Charlie and the broad smile on his face, she reluctantly began pushing the wheelchair onto the lawn.  When the wheelchair’s smaller front wheels suddenly sank into the ground, as hard as she tried to prevent it, the wheelchair toppled over, spilling Charlie onto the grass.  Desperately looking around to see if anyone was about to help her put Charlie back in the wheelchair she cried, “I’m so sorry Charlie; I’m so sorry I dumped you on the grass.  I see a man walking his dog not too far away; I’ll go get him to give me a hand.”

“Don’t go.  Not yet; there’s no hurry.  Let me lie here for a little while; the grass smells so good and feels so good in my hands and against my face.  I miss those days when I was just a boy and would lay in the grass, for what seemed hours, looking up at the clouds changing into almost anything I could imagine.  And look, look at all the tiny white flowers; they look like miniature daisies; I wonder what they’re called!”

The man walking the dog must have seen what happened and came over.  After he gave June a hand with Charlie and the wheelchair, she began pushing it back to Pleasant Valley Home.  They hadn’t gone very far when Charlie said, “Stop pushing the wheelchair for a moment; I’ve got something I’d like to give to you.”

She couldn’t imagine what it could be since Charlie hadn’t taken anything with him from Pleasant Valley Home, but she did as he asked; they were in no rush and she was really enjoying this time with a 'normal' Charlie.   Taking her hand in his, he looked up into her eyes and said, “Thank you for everything.  I love you June.”  Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks as she said, “I love you too Charlie; you old fool!”  She didn’t have to open her hand to know what was inside; she could feel the tiny petals; he had picked one of the little white flowers that had been growing in the lawn.

The next day when June arrived at Pleasant Valley Home, she was told that Charlie had passed away peacefully during the night.  As she looked at the photo of him and his wife on the door, she couldn’t remember, which were her happiest times with him; when she was June or when she was Marge but she did know when her happiest moment was and she still had the wee daisy pressed between the pages of her bible, which she kept beside her bed.

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