Post by Biblically Accurate Angel on Feb 21, 2018 1:31:41 GMT -5
"We are gathered here today..."
The reverend's words droned on. Someone had died. Such a tragic shame. But what can one say? Death comes to us all. No one lives forever, and if we did, it's debatable over whether we'd like that or not. Perhaps it is best to put our trust in fate and take our chances in Heaven or Hell. It's an unveiling of a secret, truly.
Sometimes, however, a life is cut intentionally short. Such an act is typically referred to as homicide - murder. Murder is usually committed to benefit another human being. Some may find it a horrific act; others consider it little more than a way of life. It's heavily agreed, however, that committing a murder is a risk.
One man standing in the crowd had made up his mind to take that risk. No one else knew this however. Murder is usually something very few people know about until it is committed. At any rate, murder was merely an idea at this point. Right now, he was cloaked in a heavy coat, standing awaiting the burial. The Rev. Gabriel Alexander wasn't a close personal friend, but it was the perfect opportunity for this man to carry out his scheme. Fog was everywhere. It was just the right setting.
"Well, I do declare, Miss Kitty Matthews."
The funeral had been complete and the witnesses were taking their leave.
"John Hammondsworth," said Miss Kitty. "I say, it's been a while since I last saw you."
"That it was, ma'am."
"Well, I say. There's so much to catch up on."
"Indeed there is. I was wondering if you happened to have some time on hand."
"Well, I've really nothing better to do at the moment. Ever since Charles died the house has been lonesome."
"In that case, what say we traipse through the woods here for a bit before having some tea?"
"Lead the way, good sir. I enjoy taking a nice brisk walk now and then. Clears the mind."
So they walked across The Fen, heading away from St. Augustine's Chapel, and made their way towards the forest.
"So much to see in a forest," said Miss Kitty. "All the animals and whatnot. I say, 'tis a foggy day though."
"True. I don't think it would be wise to stray too far in. Just a quick saunter and then out we go for tea."
October '37 had been a bit dreary but none like today, Miss Kitty thought to herself. "How have you been?" she asked.
"Not very well. I appear to be in dire straits."
"Money troubles?"
"Money troubles."
"Oh dear me. It's not that gambling addiction again, is it?"
"I'm afraid so."
"My my. Well, I don't really know what I can do..."
"There is something very simple," said John Hammondsworth. "You can die."
Before Miss Kitty knew what had happened, the gun had been fired, the bullet had penetrated her skull, and she had fallen dead to the ground. Hammondsworth fixed the scene, making it look like a suicide, and then, backtracking through the woods, attempted to clear up any tracks he may have left. Then he went away, to wait...
-----------
Lieutenant Colingsbroke was sitting on his front porch. It was nice to be back home on The Fen. His mother had taken sick and so he had rushed to help her out. She was now doing much better, and he could relive a childhood he had long since forgotten. Homicide investigations had taken priority in his life, and he was considered a top man in his field.
Nonetheless, it came as a surprise to him when a local police officer called and asked him to help on a case that had just come up.
The reverend's words droned on. Someone had died. Such a tragic shame. But what can one say? Death comes to us all. No one lives forever, and if we did, it's debatable over whether we'd like that or not. Perhaps it is best to put our trust in fate and take our chances in Heaven or Hell. It's an unveiling of a secret, truly.
Sometimes, however, a life is cut intentionally short. Such an act is typically referred to as homicide - murder. Murder is usually committed to benefit another human being. Some may find it a horrific act; others consider it little more than a way of life. It's heavily agreed, however, that committing a murder is a risk.
One man standing in the crowd had made up his mind to take that risk. No one else knew this however. Murder is usually something very few people know about until it is committed. At any rate, murder was merely an idea at this point. Right now, he was cloaked in a heavy coat, standing awaiting the burial. The Rev. Gabriel Alexander wasn't a close personal friend, but it was the perfect opportunity for this man to carry out his scheme. Fog was everywhere. It was just the right setting.
"Well, I do declare, Miss Kitty Matthews."
The funeral had been complete and the witnesses were taking their leave.
"John Hammondsworth," said Miss Kitty. "I say, it's been a while since I last saw you."
"That it was, ma'am."
"Well, I say. There's so much to catch up on."
"Indeed there is. I was wondering if you happened to have some time on hand."
"Well, I've really nothing better to do at the moment. Ever since Charles died the house has been lonesome."
"In that case, what say we traipse through the woods here for a bit before having some tea?"
"Lead the way, good sir. I enjoy taking a nice brisk walk now and then. Clears the mind."
So they walked across The Fen, heading away from St. Augustine's Chapel, and made their way towards the forest.
"So much to see in a forest," said Miss Kitty. "All the animals and whatnot. I say, 'tis a foggy day though."
"True. I don't think it would be wise to stray too far in. Just a quick saunter and then out we go for tea."
October '37 had been a bit dreary but none like today, Miss Kitty thought to herself. "How have you been?" she asked.
"Not very well. I appear to be in dire straits."
"Money troubles?"
"Money troubles."
"Oh dear me. It's not that gambling addiction again, is it?"
"I'm afraid so."
"My my. Well, I don't really know what I can do..."
"There is something very simple," said John Hammondsworth. "You can die."
Before Miss Kitty knew what had happened, the gun had been fired, the bullet had penetrated her skull, and she had fallen dead to the ground. Hammondsworth fixed the scene, making it look like a suicide, and then, backtracking through the woods, attempted to clear up any tracks he may have left. Then he went away, to wait...
-----------
Lieutenant Colingsbroke was sitting on his front porch. It was nice to be back home on The Fen. His mother had taken sick and so he had rushed to help her out. She was now doing much better, and he could relive a childhood he had long since forgotten. Homicide investigations had taken priority in his life, and he was considered a top man in his field.
Nonetheless, it came as a surprise to him when a local police officer called and asked him to help on a case that had just come up.