It came as a shock to the whole street – in fact it wasn’t much of a street, more of a cul-de-sac with just six houses on it – when Mr Algernon James was found lying dead at his front door with a carving knife stuck in his back. He lived at Number Four. Police carried out an exhaustive investigation. All five of the other households had salient motives.
There was Mrs Dorothy Phelps of Number One. Algernon James had run over her cat six months earlier. All that Algernon had said by way of apology was that “Your stupid cat shouldn’t have been on the road”.
There was Mr Harry Barnaby of Number Two. He was not happy that Algernon James had chainsawed down a significant tree on the street. It supposedly had been planted years earlier by Princess Diana not long after she had danced with John Travolta. All that Algernon had said was “It ruined my view, and since you love it so much why don’t you cart it away yourself.” Not a leaf was moved. It lay there as a relic.
Ms Tessa Clockbury of Number Three was a most displeased neighbour. She shared a boundary fence with Algernon and he had cut a hole in the fence so his dog could get through and do its business on her lawn. “A dog is a dog” was all that Algernon said.
Mr Tom Brick despised Algernon with all his might. He was at Number Five. Algernon had parked his old motor vehicle on the grass verge outside Tom’s house. It not only leaked oil on the lawn manicured to perfection by Tom, but the car had been sitting there for several months now and all that Algernon had said was “It’s a public street. You don’t own it.”
Finally there was Mrs Hyacinth Arrowsmith. It would take a novel to expound on why she held grudge after grudge against Algernon. Not least was a letter Algernon had written to the editor of the local newspaper (and printed) referring to “Hyacinth Arrowsmith, that old fart bag at Number Six”.
So there were the five suspects. Each could be guilty as far as the street gossips knew. It therefore was a great surprise when Mrs Noelle Brackenburg was arrested for the murder. No one had heard of her, and she didn’t even live on the street.
Well, this would have been hard to guess since Mr. James was such a charming man.
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I always wanted to write a who-dunnit novel in which the murderer is revealed at the end and wasn’t even a character in the book!
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There is a word for an author who does that but I don’t recall what it is. I don’t think it was nice, though.
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Some words spring to mind…
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Genius idea
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You’re welcome to pinch the idea but I suspect it wouldn’t sell!
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Thank you!
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I knew who it was from the very beginning.
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That’s because you’re a novelist.
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I wonder who delivered the eulogy at his obviously well attended funeral? There wwould have been dancing on the street afterwards.
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There would be enough room in the funeral parlour during his funeral to swing a dead cat.
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Maybe the gossip reached Mrs Noelle and worked on her until she couldn’t take it anymore and had to end Mr James’s life even though she didn’t know him or his group of haters. She developed a sort of twisted messiah complex and decided one day – when the summer raged and the crows cawed – that enough was enough!
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It sounds like you know Mrs Noelle quite well!
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I tended to avoid her. Now that she’s in jail, life’s certainly better.
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“Bars” has many meanings.
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‘Old Fart Bag’ haha. Sometimes I feel like the admirable Mr Algernon.
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I have known a number of old fart bags.
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Hehe. I must admit I haven’t known many. Older people in general have been a blessing to me as opposed to… Haha
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I’ll bet Noelle was an old fart bag too.
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I couldn’t say – as one of my regular readers is called Noelle – but with a different surname thank goodness!
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Any resemblance to individuals, real imagined, is strictly coincidental.
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I thought the butler would have done it…he usually does.
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A good murderous butler these days is hard to come by.
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You just can’t get good help these days.
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Excellent story. I’m guessing the murderer was a former neighbor.
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She was a Zombie.
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Thank you, Bruce. That made my day. Going to take the dog for a walk now and hope I bump into her.
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The genius lot! I think they all hired Mrs Noelle Brackenburg to kill Mr Algernon James.
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They wouldn’t have had to hire someone else to use a carving knife if they were allowed to carry guns… oops!
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So glad the murderer is named after me! I would have gladly run him through. But frankly I figured they had all done it, a la Agatha Christie.
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I’m delighted you noticed the murderer’s name – although I had the good grace to change the surname!
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Obviously a man of many enemies, it’s a good thing this is a short story and not a novel!
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A novel could become a little tiresome!
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