Saturday Sample:A Cue for Murder by Janet Howson, wine from a box

 

The Murder Mystery Begins

 Shirley had been battling with the dilemma for days and the problem was still buzzing away in her brain when she put the keys in the door of the church hall. It was the following Monday after the completion of Midsummer Night’s Dream and they would be setting off on their next theatrical challenge. This was fairly uncomplicated after the Shakespeare and wouldn’t take too much time to rehearse.

The question that was haunting Shirley needed an answer. Simple really to those who didn’t know the circumstances. They needed a lighting and sound technician for the Murder Mystery Evening they were presenting at Lauren’s golf club. All the usual technical members of the group were unable to do it and her daughter had committed herself to another drama group and couldn’t take any more responsibilities on. Jamie, her unfaithful and often violent husband was very good at one thing and that was the technical side of the theatre. He had worked all his life as a sound and lighting engineer, creating his own business. He would do it brilliantly. She didn’t really want him around during the rehearsals but he wouldn’t really need to come along until the end when they would be setting up at the golf club and she would let Lauren deal with him as she was director. 

The hall flooded with light as Shirley flicked the switches. Its familiarity wrapped around her like a blanket. How many productions had she been involved in over the years. Hundreds, she expected. She found a table for her bag and then started pulling chairs out into a circle for the meeting. She hadn’t had any apologies so far which meant they could cast it tonight. This would be all down to Jordon. This was his creation and she would leave it to him to explain the plot.

  “Anyone there?” The voice broke into her thoughts. Shirley smiled to herself. It was Jordon. She knew he would be the first to arrive as Jordon was always the first to arrive. Loyal and willing, she could always rely on him and recently their relationship had taken a different turn. A situation Shirley still felt nervous but excited about.

 “In here, just putting the chairs out.”

 The door was pushed open and Jordon entered backwards carrying sheets of stapled scripts and the asses head from Midsummer Night’s Dream balancing perilously on top

 “I’ve brought back the illusive head before I lose it again. I will put it back into the costume store later.” He deposited everything on one of the stacking tables, rubbed his aching hips and started to help Shirley position the remainder of the chairs.

 “Hopefully we should have everyone here. Even Stacey is making an appearance. I think it would be a good idea if you didn’t give her a speaking part. She has been through a tough time even though she will insist she is fine.”

 “I have already spoken to her and she says she would like to prompt for this one. Who will be doing the technical?” Jordon looked at Shirley expectantly, pausing in his task.

Shirley felt herself blush. She had been dreading telling Jordon that the man who had hit her on many occasions and who she had cried on Jordon’s shoulder about would be her suggestion to tech for his play.

She was saved from replying by the fire door opening and banging shut as more of the group arrived with different degrees of noise.

They poured into the hall talking animatedly between themselves. Debbie and Annie were as vibrant as ever discussing some recent group concert. Jess and Patrick entered hand in hand. Lauren had given Jean a lift and was listening intently to a story Jean was telling her. Val had brought her daughter, Becky, who wanted to join the drama group; this was her first time down and she looked willing and enthusiastic ready to observe and learn. Sean had picked Nina up on route. He was looking particularly smart; Shirley assumed he would be dashing off at the end of the session for a date. Jason and Stacey arrived a bit later than the others. Normally very independent, Stacey had rung Jason, who lived fairly near to her place to ask if he wouldn’t mind picking her up. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the blow to her head she suffered when she fell in London trying to wrench her handbag back from a thief.

Shirley approached Stacey, “I am so pleased to see you, Stacey. How are you?”

“Oh I am fine. If I ever see that prize prat again he will be lucky if he lives to tell the story. The police haven’t found him so he is still out there snatching handbags from other unsuspecting girls.”

“Come and sit with me and let me know if you have had enough and one of us can run you home.” Shirley lead her to a chair helped her take her coat off and sat beside her. She then announced to the others, “okay everyone, time to stop the chat, grab a chair and I’ll hand you over to the very capable Jordon Radcliff.”

There was a drum roll of feet on the floor as Jordon looking embarrassed and shuffled the scripts into a neat pile on his lap.

“As you all know that time of year has come round when we take our latest Murder Mystery to Lauren’s golf club.  I have called this one ‘The Ruby Revenge’. The basic plot is Joseph and Fiona Hollingsworth have invited family and close friends to celebrate their Ruby Wedding with them at a five- star hotel. The dinner is followed by a party. A lot of alcohol is consumed and most of the guests are very drunk particularly Joseph. All the guests stay overnight. In the morning there is a shock discovery. Joseph’s lifeless body is found in the hotel car park.

“The guests all have motives to kill him. His long- suffering wife has found out about Joseph’s many affairs. The women involved are at the celebration. Caroline, an old school friend and Courtney, a work colleague. Caroline and Courtney find out about each other on the night of the party. Fiona’s sisters Sylvia and Grace, both blame him for the breakdown of their marriages. The daughter, Samantha, has seen her mother getting more stressed, thin and wan with the behaviour of their father. They hate him for what he has done to her. John, Joseph’s former boss despises Joseph for levering him out of his job and getting the position himself. Tim, Carolyn’s husband has found out about his wife’s affair with Joseph and is ready to confront him. Dolly, Fiona’s mother has spent hours with her daughter sobbing on her shoulder and cannot cope with her decline and is seeking ways of putting it right. Richard has always been a very good friend of Fiona’s, secretly in love with her he cannot stand the way she is treated by Joseph.

“In Act one the body is found and we are introduced to the characters involved. Everyone is trying to work out what happened.

“In Act two we go back in time to the dinner and the various reasons for the character’s motives are revealed.  

“In Act three we see the murder scene in the hotel’s car-park.

“Each act is preceded by one course of the three- course meal and before the murder scene each table is asked to vote as to who they feel the murderer is and there is a box of wine for the winning table. There is opportunity in the evening to question the various characters. Only the murderer can lie.”

“Sounds great, Jordon. Love it,” Lauren smiled encouragingly at Jordon. “It will be great fun to direct.”

“Thanks for that Lauren. Stacey has kindly offered to prompt. We are glad to see you back, Stace.” There was a chorus of approval from everyone as Stacey takes a dramatic bow.

“Right this is the cast, Fiona, you are Shirley and Sean you are Joseph. Nina you are Dolly, Jess  is to play Sylvia, Grace by Jean, Caroline by Debbie, Courtney by Val, Tim by Patrick, Richard by Myself, and John by Jason. I hope that is okay. We have only four weeks to pull it together with Monday and Wednesday rehearsals, then one rehearsal at the golf club.” Jordon leaned back in his chair, relieved he had got that out of the way and started to pass the scripts round. “We can have a read through tonight and then introduce the stage directions on Wednesday. Any questions?”

“I’ve got to know before we read it all, who was the murderer?” Debbie piped up, “I bet it was the wife.”

“No, it was Richard, Fiona’s old friend; who had always loved her, the part I play.” He looked over at Shirley who had not missed the comparison to her own situation with her abusive and unfaithful husband, Jamie. They smiled at each other. Safe in the knowledge that of course it was only a play.

Love Struck by Linda Chandanais, hazelnut latte

 Cupid's arrow pierced my heart and left me crazed for the girl I’d called lobster lips and chicken legs all through school.

Suddenly, her slender legs curved in all the right places and I yearned to kiss her luscious lips, even as she sneered, ‘Leave me alone.’

I sent her flowers, candy, and two lovebirds. I even wrote a song and sang most of it before she turned the hose on me. I would have tried again if it wasn't for the restraining order.

So, I declared my love for her on the front page of the local newspaper, at Krogers in the dairy aisle, and at Sunday church service even though the pastor said it wasn't exactly witnessing.

 She remained unswayed. I was left with no other choice. I made the call.

A blindfolded ride in a black sedan put me face-to-face with Cupid himself. He was taller than I expected and reeked of cannabis. He was eating BBQ.

‘Sounds like I’ll need to use the supercharged serum,’ the cherub said as he licked the sauce off his fingers. ‘It's expensive plus you need to know only one of you can be lovestruck. If I shoot her your spell disappears.’

 But I reasoned if she’d had me lovestruck I wouldn't be needing Cupid’s arrow. I paid the cherub.

Two days later there was a knock at my door. I found good ol’ chicken legs on my porch with a red rose between her donkey lips. 

About the author 

Linda’s love of storytelling began with ‘stories from her head’ told to younger siblings. After a decades-long hiatus called adulthood, Linda has renewed her passion for storytelling. Her works have been published in The Drabble, Entropy Squared-A Story in 100 words, Everyday Fiction and SpillWords. 

 

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Davy’s Prediction by Daniel P. Douglas, a tall lime soda

 Clouds fascinate Davy. He’s old enough to understand the shapes and their relationship to temperature, pressure, and humidity. In fact, watch him read isobars on a weather map. Always makes me think of our pastor in church. Just a glance at a page in the Bible and you’ll hear a sermon. In Davey’s case, he sees lines of equal pressure and turns them into meteorological revelations.

            ‘Science,’ he says, after making a five-minute weather forecast on a Tuesday morning in our sixth-grade class. ‘It’s all science.’

            He gathers his clear sheets from the overhead projector and bows. A few of us clap. I offer two thumbs up, holding them just in front of my chubby belly.

Davy walks down the aisle and sits at the desk in front of mine. Middle row, dead center of Miss Cawley’s classroom. Before he turns around, I see what I always see. Unkempt wavy brown hair sits on a head with a big brain. Ears like flaps on a weathervane stick out above a long, thin neck. Short legs dangle his tan Wallabies an inch or two above the room’s green and gray carpet.  He turns to look at me through smudged eyeglasses and bends thin lips into a crooked smile.

            ‘I have a new barometer to show you,’ Davy says. ‘I made it with spare parts.’

            ‘Uh-huh.’ I’m still unclear why Davy chose me as his friend. I do know why I am his only friend. In our school, soccer and baseball players make friends, space cadets don’t. I’m a fullback on the soccer team.

            ‘I can show you this weekend,’ he adds, leaning toward me. Maybe to study the pattern of my new plaid shirt?

            ‘Not sure that’ll work.’ To avoid trouble with Miss Cawley, I whisper, ‘Gonna try to see that new movie, Star Wars. Looks cool. The theater next to the mall has eight showings a day, ten on Saturdays.’ Nervous, I rub the top of my thighs with the edges of my thumbs. I like to feel the grooves of my blue corduroy pants. It calms me down.

            ‘Super long lines, I hear. They sell out of tickets fast.’ Davy checks his newest digital watch, points it at me. ‘What do you think? Purple numbers, metal watch and expandable wristband. Futuristic, like living in Tomorrowland.’

            I nod. Miss Cawley puts up a transparency on thunderstorms. I write some more in my workbook. ‘You can come with us to the movie, if you want,’ I whisper, squinting at the overhead’s projection. The screen’s stuck, so she’s using the blackboard. ‘It’s for my birthday, so I can invite whoever I want.’

            Davy furrows his pale brow, aims his blue eyes at the ceiling tiles, and tightens his lips into two blades, like Dad’s razor. A spit wad lands just under his nose, so he picks it off, turns around and opens his workbook. Later, he slips me a note: Forecast for the movie looks best for the two-thirty show on Saturday.

            Behold, a meteorological revelation, I think. I decide to trust Davy’s prediction. I thank him at lunch. Easy to do since he sits right next to me, close enough I have to keep my elbow tucked against my side. We finish the school day. He walks home alone. I ride the bus and tell Mike and Todd about seeing Star Wars on Saturday afternoon.

            ‘Should boogey on down there early,’ Todd says. ‘Need to get good seats.’

            That night, I make plans with Mom and Dad.

            ‘Be sure your friends are here just after lunch,’ Mom explains. ‘I’ll drive the station wagon so that leaves room for you and five friends. Anyone else will have to meet us there.’

            Saturday arrives. I turn twelve years old. A gang of us swim in the neighbor’s pool and eat grilled hot dogs. Some clouds and light rain move in, so we pack up. A little later, me, Mike, Todd, Rob, and Kimmy pile into my parents’ car.

            ‘Guess Davy’s not gonna make it,’ I say from the front passenger seat.

‘He’s on Martian time,’ Rob says, in a robotic voice.

While my friends laugh, I say, ‘Let’s just go.’

            We arrive an hour before showtime, just as those clouds and light rain turn into a crazy thunderstorm. Mom inches the car through the parking lot and stops.

            ‘Is that Davy? Just standing there, out in the storm?’ Mom asks, pointing at a short boy in a fluttering poncho.

            I recognize his wet Wallabies just as he pulls the hood back from his big head.

            The loudest thunderclap I’ve ever heard cuts off a bunch of insults about Davy from Mike and Todd. I wave at Davy, mouthing the words, ‘Get in here!’

            He waves back and shows me a folded poncho.

            ‘Out in the storm,’ Kimmy sighs. ‘What a dork.’

            ‘Mom,’ I say, whispering in her ear, ‘I only want to go the movie with Davy.’

            I bail out of the car, race over to Davy, and put on the poncho. In the middle of this storm, we march to the box office and see just a few other customers.

            ‘Now I get it,’ I say, starting to chuckle. ‘Your prediction was right. This is the best time to see the movie today. How did you know?’

            ‘It’s all science.’

After we buy tickets, the ushers bring us right inside since there’s no line for the two-thirty show. Almost all the seats are empty in the theater, so we sit dead center in the middle row. Perfection.

Seated right next to me, Davy says, ‘See, most people are afraid of storms. They are afraid of what they don’t understand. They’re quick to judge, but don’t take time to understand. I think storms are cool. I try to understand them, not judge. I don’t understand a lot of things, but I’m not afraid of them.’ The lights dim and Davy taps my arm. ‘Happy birthday!’

            ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I sure wish I had guts like you.’

            ‘You do.’ Davy laughs. ‘You don’t see Mike or Kimmy or Todd sitting here, do you?’

            ‘Nope.’ As a movie preview plays, all I see around us is a bunch of empty seats.

Between turning twelve and seeing Star Wars that day, I walk out of the theater a different person, I think. I know Davy says I’m brave, so maybe that’s what I notice. Not saying I’m ready to attack the Death Star in some X-Wing fighter, but I am ready to start understanding myself better and not to worry so much about being judged.

            Sixth grade ends a few weeks later. In late-July, Davy tells me he’s building a high-altitude weather laboratory that’ll be carried along by a huge balloon. Some friends egg and teepee his house in August while I am with my parents on vacation in Florida.

            Davy is gone when I get home and he never returns to school. So, I search the sky thinking and hoping I’ll see him floating up there in his lab. Along the way, I learn a lot about the weather and scientific balloons. I might even become a meteorologist when I grow up, but I still haven’t ruled out Jedi Knight.

About the author

 Daniel P. Douglas is the pen name for identical twins Phillip and Paul Garver. They write sci-fi and supernatural thriller stories and screenplays, and have earned accolades from Foreword Reviews, BestThrillers.com, and Readers Favorite. A sci-fi short, 'The Crooked Holo,' appears on 365tomorrows.com. Learn more at their website, www.authordanielpdouglas.com. 

 

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LOST by Marion Ward, a nice cup of cocoa

It was in April 2021 that Nathan lost his last remaining tooth.  It fell out, with no warning, on his 89^th birthday.  As this would be his last chance he decided to place the tooth under his pillow to see if there was any truth in the story that fairies would take it away overnight and leave him money.  Apparently it used to be a silver sixpence but what with inflation, not to mention decimalization, it could now be £2 or even more.

He went to bed early, as normal, and then woke with the rising sun.  He looked under his pillow.  His tooth was still there but so too was a note which read

We are sorry but we are extremely busy at the moment and are experiencing fairy shortages due to COVID.  Please be assured that your teeth are important to us and we would ask you to try again later.

Nathan scratched his head.  He had not considered that fairies could catch COVID.  Still there was nothing else for it so he left his tooth under the pillow for a second night.  The next morning he woke to find his tooth was gone but no money had been left.  He wrote a rather curt note of complaint and left it under his pillow.  He knew his was only a very old front tooth but it should be worth something.

On the third morning he woke to find his note gone, no money but another note left which read

We are sorry but we are extremely busy at the moment and are experiencing fairy shortages due to COVID.  Please be assured that your teeth are important to us and we would ask you to try again later.

He was getting quite cross now so left an even more sharply worded note of complaint.

On the fourth morning he woke to find no money but a note which read

We are sorry for the poor service issue caused by fairy shortages due to COVID.  We are pleased to advise we are now in a position to pay you £2.50 for your tooth but, due to COVID we are not undertaking cash transactions at this time.  If you could kindly provide your card details we will credit your account accordingly.

Now Nathan was delighted with the offer of £2.50 and only regretted all the other teeth which he had so carelessly disposed of.  The trouble was he did not own a credit card or a debit card not even a bank card.  He could not be doing with all those new fangled things when the space under his mattress had served so well all these years.  So he left a note under his pillow asking if he could be paid some other way i.e. by a can or two of cream of mushroom soup which was his particular favourite.  He woke on the fifth morning to find a note which read

We are so sorry but we are out of stock of cans of cream of mushroom soup as there is a shortage of mushrooms due to covid and the fact that our mushroom picking pixies are on furlough.  Please advise an alternative and indicate whether you are prepared to accept a substitute if the product is unavailable.

Nathan duly left a note saying he would like mulligatawny soup and that, yes, he would accept a substitute.  He just wanted to bring the whole thing to a conclusion.  He woke on the sixth morning to find a note which read

We are sorry but we are extremely busy at the moment and are experiencing fairy shortages due to COVID.  Please be assured that your teeth are important to us and we would ask you to try again later.

Rapidly losing the will to carry on Nathan had a restless night before he woke to find a note which read

We are sorry but we are out of stock of mulligatawny soup but at your request we have left you a substitution.  If you are not satisfied please simply return it to us and we will issue a refund to the card used to make this purchase.

Nathan lifted the pillow a little higher to find......a tube of Sensodyne Pronamel Gentle Whitening toothpaste.

 

About the auhtor 

Marion  ward is a retired business woman now trying to expand and enjoy her creative self through fictional writing 

 

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