The Hunting Of The Lattimer Party

[SimonW]

( chapter 3, part 9…)

Alberta Lattimer slowly walked in, Gerard the head butler going over to assist her towards the chair.
“Thank you,” she said to Gerard as the old butler made sure she was seated comfortably before he lightly bowed to her and returned to the side of Jerry Lattimer.
“I gather you have some questions for me?” Alberta Lattimer asked before Jerry got the chance to speak.
“Yes, if you would be so kind. Do you need your medication before we begin? Any refreshments?” he asked her in a pleasantly concerned tone.
Alberta did not respond at first, a wry smile appearing upon her lips at being fretted upon.
“No, you need not concern yourself, I am not as fragile as that. I have already taken my medications for the middle of the day,” she said with a nod demurely of her head.
“Yes, as we heard from Alfred a few moments ago,” Jerry Lattimer announced which made Alberta chuckle lightly.
“Alfred, yes. That boy has such odd interests at times,” she replied fondly as she responded to the mention of Alfred Lattimer.
“Odd interests? In what way?” Jerry Lattimer asked with curious intent.
“Oh, just things. Like my medications and what not. Actually, he had caused a slight ruckus today,” she said as she recalled the events of the day.
“In the Kitchen, yes. He told us about that also,” Jerry said as he glanced sidelong to Gerard before drawing his attention back to Alberta Lattimer.
“Do you recall ever seeing this before?” Jerry asked of Alberta as he held up the empty light green bottle.
“Ahh, the perpetrator of the crime. Or should I say, the means to which the deed was done? I have never seen it before,” she replied in the negative, if somewhat dramatically.
“I think I get what you are trying to imply. But I have to ask, why did you assume it was suicide?” Jerry asked her as he placed the bottle back down upon the table.
“Common perception, Mr. Jerry. I just announced first what possibly several others were thinking. Was I in the wrong for doing so?” the forty-five year old woman asked as she raised her hand to her mouth in concern.
Jerry Lattimer shook his head in thought whilst replying, “No, I think not, given the circumstances we found the bodies in. What did you, Alfred and Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price do after being in the kitchen?”
“Well, we went to the Lounge to partake of coffee. Alfred had some orange juice, I seem to recall,” she stated in recollective thought and placed her hand back down to her lap.
“Yes, well, that seems to be all at the present. Pardon me, but is it Miss or Mrs. Lattimer?” casually asked Jerry Lattimer for proper decorum.
“I was married once, but my husband died of alcoholism about five years back. But I still go by Mrs. Lattimer, if you would be so kind,” she said tactfully with a slight solemn bow of her head.
“In that case, thank you for your input and valuable information, Mrs. Lattimer,” stated Jerry Lattimer as he stood up and gave a non-committed bow as Mrs. Alberta Lattimer also stood up before she left the Study of her own accord.
As the door closed behind Mrs. Alberta Lattimer, Gerard gave a slight turn towards Jerry Lattimer.
“That woman is a marvel, sir. She did not need my assistance getting up at all,” Gerard said in mild admiration.
“Yes, I know, Gerard. She may not be as ill as she appears,” Jerry Lattimer idly remarked back in thought.

A silence was awkwardly had between Jerry Lattimer and the next guest, Mr. Jacob Lattimer.
The two of them seemed to be sizing the other up with just observational glances and reading mannerisms until the stalemate ended with Jacob Lattimer caving in first with words.
“What do you want me to say exactly? How I did it?”
Jacob Lattimer was obviously on edge and not realising what he was saying.
“Well, not really, no. I do not believe you did it. Just because you lack an alibi does not automatically make you a murderer,” Jerry stated simply in reply.
This did not seem to ease Jacob Lattimer in the slightest, it just seemed to make his face look more thunderous at Jerry Lattimer.
“Oh, does it now? I know what they all think of me, do not act like I don’t. The whispered words, the suspicion on their faces as they take a wide range of me in passing. I am already labeled as a killer in their eyes,” beseeched Jacob Lattimer sarcastically as the gambler seemed to work himself up in a frenzy within his chair.
“Calm down, Jacob. You brought all this upon yourself, you know that fully well when you blurted out your alibi, or rather lack there of, in front of everybody at the murder scene,” Jerry Lattimer announced, culling the irate man before himself to suddenly calm down in the face of facts.
“Y-you’re right, I was foolish. But I honestly don’t have anything to do with this,” Jacob said sadly as he folded his hand in front of Jerry Lattimer.
“I believe you, Jacob. If you are innocent as you say you are, I have nothing further to discuss with you,” Jerry muttered in thought once more.
Jacob Lattimer took this as a sign to leave and got up from the chair before leaving the Study.
“Sir, if I may, that seemed rather sudden,” stated Gerard simply to Jerry Lattimer.
“Well, Gerard, they do say you can’t squeeze blood from a stone. There was nothing more to gain from that man.”
“Depends, sir,” Gerard said as he gazed at the Study door Jacob Lattimer had just left from.
“On what, Gerard?”
“Whether the hand squeezing the stone is cut, sir,” came the reply from the thoughtful old butler.

(to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 3, part 10…)

Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price was the last guest to be questioned. The old woman in her seventies seemed harmless enough, but Mr. Jerry Lattimer noticed a cunning glint in her eye as she beheld the pieces of evidence in front of him.
“You realise that there can only be one recourse of action, correct?” the old woman stated calmly and clearly.
Jerry Lattimer beheld this kindly old lady with respect at not quelling in fear in the jaws of adversity.
“And what action would that be, Mrs. Lattimer-Price?” Jerry asked humbly.
“To catch this killer, of course,” Dorothy Lattimer-Price responded as she earnestly beheld a gleam of clarity within her eyes.
“So, you do not believe this theory of suicide put in front of us by Mrs. Alberta Lattimer?” he queried before Dorothy.
She gazed at him as if incredulously and slowly shook her head.
“No, of course not. Do not get me wrong, I adore her but not everything is as simple as people voice their opinions to be,” she said sagely. “Take it from me, Mr. Lattimer, this is murder, plain and simple.”
“But not as simple as we would like it to be,” sighed out Jerry Lattimer in slight frustration.
“That is true,” Mrs. Dorothy admitted in a sympathetic tone. “But hope springs eternal, as the saying goes. I only wish I could be of more help to your investigation.”
“Well, there is nothing more to find out, sadly,” admitted Jerry Lattimer in confidence to Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price. “I suppose these are not familiar to you at all, by any chance?”
Mr. Jerry Lattimer gave a gesture to the pieces of broken teacups and the empty light green bottle before himself sitting on the dark mahogany desktop.
Mrs. Dorothy surveyed the things displayed in front of her with a thoughtful expression across her face until she finally glanced over at Jerry Lattimer sadly.
“I am afraid not, dearie. I may have seen the poor Mr. Darryl with the green bottle at breakfast, but that is all I can remember at present,” she replied and her shoulders dropped in defeat.
“Worth a shot in the dark, regardless,” he stated in a polite but melancholy voice. “Thank you for trying, anyway.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Please do cheer up, Jerry. I’m sure something will come to mind presently,” Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price said kindly before removing herself from her seat and going to the Study door.
She paused for a second and turned back to the defeated looking man seated at the Study desk.
“I may not know much about all this detective business, but a word of advice from one kin to another: Check the tea. As far as I have gathered, only two sets of tea were being brewed in the Kitchen when Alfred, Alberta and myself were present. And only one group was…well, poisoned for a less than a practical way to put it. Happy hunting, dear,” she announced before leaving the Study, shutting the door for Jerry Lattimer to contemplate in peace.
Jerry seemed to do a double-take at these words of wisdom before deftly picking up the broken teacup pieces in his hand and glancing at them in thought.
“Of course! What a fool I’ve been not to see it before! The tea is the key!” he exclaimed after a moment to process his thoughts before chuckling to himself in victory.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 3, part 11…)


Gerard the head butler had herded the guests within the Lounge Parlour at the bequest of Mr. Jerry Lattimer.
The aforementioned Jerry Lattimer stood by the stone marble fireplace and turned to survey the other eight guests remaining scattered within the Lounge in various positions. Some were standing whilst others had taken residence in sitting upon the red velvet couches and upholstered settees, a glass small rectangular coffee table set in the middle of this room’s space.
Sensing the tense atmosphere within this room, Jerry Lattimer had no doubt as to what caused it.
Like a doomed man, Mr. Jacob Lattimer was given a wide berth by the other guests, standing upright in a secluded corner on his lonesome.
Lady Constance Lattimer was throwing the occasional stink eye of disapproval at Jacob Lattimer. It was obvious after her assumptions of suicide were proven to be false, that Jacob Lattimer was her number one suspect at the moment.
Sitting next to Lady Lattimer at a comfortable distance upon the couch was Miss Sidney Lattimer, looking with furtive glances between the two cautiously. It seemed she was wavering on the concerned and suspicious look upon her face.
The third sitting opposite Lady Lattimer upon the couch was Guye Lattimer, their face not deceiving their thoughts unlike Miss Sidney Lattimer. Guye did not seem perturbed at all at this gathering. Still, it did not deter them from idly patting their sidearm underneath their jacket with caution.
Mrs. Alberta Lattimer and Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price were sitting upon the other red velvet couch with Alfred Lattimer sat in between them both.
Terry was leaning against the opposite wall of the Lounge, facing Jerry Lattimer with his arms crossed against his chest. He wore a black jacket and some blue jeans, obviously having gotten his attire from his wardrobe in his bedroom. This did not surprise Jerry Lattimer in the slightest, it was just the first time he bothered to notice this more garish ensemble more accustomed to the rebellious teenager.
“So, what’s the big idea? Why gather us here?” Terry Lattimer-Davies was the first to speak and held a slight scowl of discontent upon his face.
“I have gathered you here for one reason and one reason only…to catch the murderer,” calmly said Jerry Lattimer that made everyone in the room seem to slightly tense up with interest.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” Lady Constance Lattimer vehemently asked as her eyes darted over to Jacob Lattimer.
Most of the other guests side-eyed over to Jacob Lattimer where Lady Constance indicated with her own distrustful look of detestation.
Jacob Lattimer was about to exclaim out in protest but Mr. Jerry Lattimer held up a hand in a gesture of peace and desist.
“Calm down, please, everyone. Jacob is no more a killer of this crime than myself. No, despite being a man with no alibi at the time of the crime, I believe him to be innocent. Let me recount what happened this morning, about the time in which we split up into groups,” Jerry Lattimer stated factually before he started his explanation.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 3, part 12…)


“It was about ten past eight when we all split up into our respectful parties and took to our coffee and tea breaks. I was with Guye and Terry in the Study, Lady Lattimer was with Sid in this Lounge, Alberta was with Dorothy and Alfred in the Kitchens and we all know Jacob was off on his own in the Dining room. As for our victims, Darryl Lattimer and Miss Jennifer Lattimer, we all know where they were as that was the scene of the crime. As for what was drunken and eaten, that is slightly more tricky. I and my party of snoops were partaking coffee in a side parlour opposite the Study. Alberta, Dorothy and Alfred had taken coffee and orange juice in another side parlour, I can only surmise that it was nearby the Kitchens. Jacob told me he was having coffee on his own in the Dining room. Our only tea drinkers were Lady Lattimer and Sid Lattimer in here and were having honey jam and cream scones. Our victims, we know for a fact, were the only other tea drinkers today. Now, I admit, I find it odd that only one of the pair should be dead. But it was Mrs. Dorothy that steered me to the truth by asking me to “check the tea” in her own words. I was slightly baffled until I recalled that two different sets of tea were made in the Kitchen. One was a strong rich tea for Lady Lattimer and Sid Lattimer whilst the other was a weaker mint flavoured tea for our victims. This got my head to spin until I realised that meant that two kettles had to be boiled for each tea, two different teas, makes sense you would not want any crossover flavours to be mixed. One with poison, one without. Otherwise we would have four bodies today instead of two. That means, somehow, the murderer has been targeting one of the two victims. But which one? Then I recalled that Darryl had a bottle that obviously the murderer noticed he partook in his tea at this morning’s breakfast. He had to be the target. But how did the murderer know what tea to drug? Obviously, there was only one answer to that. But before I do,” Jerry Lattimer paused and then wandered over to one of the couches with three people sat upon it.
“If you would be so kind, explain why you did it, Mrs. Alberta Lattimer?” he asked calmly of her.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 3, part 13…)

It took a few seconds as Mrs. Alberta Lattimer gazed up at Jerry Lattimer with a slightly cocked head.
“Whatever do you mean by that?” she asked with bated breath.
“I am asking you why you killed them. I think it is plain that I am being serious,” he responded in a cautious yet even tone of voice.
“But, she was with us, Mr. Jerry,” interjected Dorothy in order to save the ill woman face.
“And that is all the more reason to suspect her, Mrs. Dorothy. This woman uses her meekness and illness to sway suspicion away from her. And furthermore, used the happenstance accident of Alfred within the Kitchen to slip her medication within the tea. Not sure exactly which one she used but I wager she has a liquid or pill to help her sleep soundly at night,” Jerry said darkly with a serious look upon his face.
At this, Alberta Lattimer smirked slightly in mirth at Jerry Lattimer.
“And what if the maids saw me? Not admitting I did it, but for sake of argument, what would I do then?”
“Oh, even if the maids saw you, you knew full well they would not tell on you as it is their duty not to interfere with a hunt. Alfred and Dorothy know well enough,” Jerry Lattimer stated and glanced at Dorothy and Alfred for confirmation.
The two slowly but solemnly nodded their heads at this.
“Then why would I kill Darryl and Miss Jennifer?” she asked, changing the subject slightly.
“Oh, now that is a simple answer. Yes, you could not distinguish the two teas with that small amount of time, not even to sniff the kettles individually. So, stands to reason, you did not care whom you targeted and took a risk by just blindly drugging one kettle of tea,” Jerry said in response with an even darker tone in his voice.
“Well, sounds like you have all the answers,” she suddenly announced, sighing out a solitary gesture of dropping her tensed shoulders.
“Mrs. Alberta, please say it’s not true,” mumbled out Alfred in a small voice.
She gently smiled over at the ten year old boy before steadily getting up to her own two feet and looked resolutely in the face of Jerry Lattimer.
“I hated that man, Darryl. I am glad he is dead. I saw him at breakfast this morning, doing that odious thing. That was when I planned to kill him. I am disgusted by those that imbibe in the liquid sin. I had no ill will towards Miss Jennifer. It was just unfortunate she associated with that man. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am awfully tired and would like to retire to my bedchambers, please,” she announced and Jerry Lattimer moved out of her way after a few seconds.
It was like the parting of the Red Sea as the surprised guests by this turn of affairs also got out of the way as Mrs. Alberta Lattimer made her way out of the Lounge, shutting the door behind herself.
“Are you letting her get away like that?” asked Lady Constance with slight conviction in her voice. “She killed two people, you know.”
Jerry Lattimer walked back to the fireplace, not in any hurry as he drew his attention to Lady Constance Lattimer.
“Do not worry so, Constance. I did let her go, yes. But that shall soon rectify itself in due course.”
“That is Lady Lattimer to you, sir,” she huffed but caused no more fuss.
What Mr. Jerry Lattimer said was the truth. At half an hour later, as Guye Lattimer had broken into Mrs. Alberta Lattimer’s bedchamber to dispense justice, they found the woman laying in quiet repose. The empty bottle of medicine tonic was by her bedside as she had overdosed herself to oblivion.


End of Chapter Three.

 

[SimonW]

Chapter 4: This Means War!


It was at half past ten as Guye Lattimer gave the news of Mrs. Alberta Lattimer’s passing to the rest of the guests. Unsure of how to feel, most of the majority of the family decided to compose themselves within their bedrooms. Only three of the remaining eight just stood in hushed silence within the Lounge. Suspicions were running high, for if the unassuming and pleasant Alberta Lattimer could fool them, then what chance did they have to survive in a manor house full of potential killers? This unutterable question plagued the lips of Alfred Lattimer, Miss Sidney Lattimer and Terry Lattimer-Davies. The youngest members of the party were in mental turmoil, unsure of their survival rate in this mansion of murders. The adults had locked themselves away, letting Miss Sidney Lattimer take the teen and pre-teen in her charge and care.
“I feel unsure what to do or how to feel at this moment,” truthfully yet uncertainly uttered Alfred Lattimer in thought as he had sunken deeper into the red couch he sat in.
Terry Lattimer-Davies just shrugged his shoulders in response as Sid Lattimer sat next to Alfred Lattimer and comforted him in a half-hug.
“Do not worry, Alfred. We shall stick together through this, no matter what,” she stated and broke off the hug with a half smile upon her face.
“B-but what if we get murdered too?” the ten year old boy stuttered out with deep concern etched upon his face.
“We are all dead anyway, it dun matter,” Terry Lattimer-Davies briskly said before Sid Lattimer got a chance to respond.
Miss Sidney Lattimer glanced over at Terry Lattimer-Davies sharply before turning her attention back to Alfred Lattimer.
“Well, in life, there is death also, so what he states is somewhat true. But, I believe nobody would be as cruel or heartless to harm us,” reasoned out Sid Lattimer carefully, ignoring the half scoffing jeer from Terry from behind her and Alfred.
“I guess that’s reasonable to think that, but it still scares me,” Alfred Lattimer responded until he and Sidney Lattimer heard the sound of metal clanging upon marble stonework that made them slightly jump in fright.
They glanced over to the fireplace where Terry Lattimer-Davies was holding a fireplace poker within his hands. He had just twanged upon the fireplace, leaving a chunk of an indentation upon the marble stone fireplace.
“You had best to be scared. Do you think the adults care about what we are going through, do ya? Well, I ain’t no fool if anybody thinks they gonna murder me! If they try it, well, let’s just say I ain’t going to just bust up some marble work no more,” Terry Lattimer-Davies announced coldly and darkly as he wielded the fireplace poker in his right hand and walked over to the Lounge door.
“Do you think that wise, Terry?” Sidney Lattimer exclaimed as she vehemently got up from sitting upon the red couch.
Terry Lattimer-Davies stopped as he heard her say this to him and turned to look at her in the eyes.
“Ya know, it just makes me feel a whole lot better to defend myself, just in case. No harm, no foul,” he muttered before he turned back to opening the door and sauntering out of the Lounge to make his way back to his bedroom.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 2…)

It was not too long before Miss Sidney Lattimer and Alfred Lattimer returned to their own rooms, careful to lock their doors.
Alfred Lattimer felt restless, not sad exactly, just frustrated he was in this predicament.
The ten year old boy felt the tears forming in his eyes but hastily brushed them aside.
‘No, I must be strong at this moment,’ he thought to himself bitterly.
There was no time for tears, that much was certain. Especially when he knew he had to be sharp in his mind, if he wanted to survive.

Sid Lattimer had let out an exaggerating sigh, giving herself the luxury of a bath to settle her nerves.
The slender frame of her bodice was evident in the bathtub, allowing comfy room as she laid down amidst the bubble bath mixture she had poured in beforehand. Lightly sudding her body with a damp sponge, Sid Lattimer allowed herself to relax fully and closed her eyes for a few minutes of peace. The moments of peace lasted long enough. Sid opened her eyes lazily and started the process of unplugging the bathtub of by now luke-warm water to run down the drain.
After the tub was drained, Sidney Lattimer got out of the bathtub and patted her body down with a towel. Putting the bathrobe around herself, Sid exited the bathroom and surveyed her choices of dress clothes as the clock beside her bed struck twelve. It was Lunch time. And though she felt unwell at anymore gatherings in this place, Sidney Lattimer knew for appearances sake that she had to attend.

It was ten to twelve and though by this time Sidney Lattimer was relaxing her cares away, the same could not be said of Terry Lattimer-Davies. The sixteen year old was agitated and pacing his room whilst recklessly swinging the Lounge room fireplace poker within his right hand. He stopped swinging the deadly weapon he kept for self defence and just chucked it upon his bed.
With little effort, the poker landed safely upon the cushioned bed without a sound and Terry Lattimer-Davies gazed at it with contempt. He was unsure why he was so panicked in the first place. There was no reason to think he would be next. He contemplated whose number would be up next and chuckled lightly as he realised that there was only one logical option. Terry spent the next ten minutes just in thought before he noticed his bedside clock chime twelve.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 3…)


The eight remaining guests had tensely made their way downstairs individually, the time of companionship obviously least upon their minds.
The looming dining table of black marble now seemed a beacon of lost hope, like an extra long black oblong casket one would see in cemeteries. The Lattimer Manor’s dining room, which once looked grand and lavishly decorated with white marble pillars in each corner, now seemed to be encasing them all like a graveyard mausoleum with dusty air and the stench of decay.
But, this was only perceived as such by the guests, obviously the mental toil of this starting weekend a heavy burden upon them all.
This stuffy atmosphere was not lost upon their host, the somber looking Henry Carmichael Lattimer. He noticed the ashen looks of dismay, the tensed bodies as his guests took their seats around the dining table and the absence of talkative humour without smiles etched upon their faces. Even those of sterner constitution, such as Guye Lattimer and Jerry Lattimer, seemed to be reasonably concerned.
“Well, I trust you all are hungry? Lunch is served,” continued on their host of the day, clapping his hands with careless abandon.
In response to this, it was now the male manservants that appeared from behind the door to the Kitchen, each of the five of them holding two trays whilst also having a white cloth linen tea towel hanging perfectly draped over their right arms.
They presented the trays in front of the now uninterested guests and it showed a rather small platter of niche h’orderves in canapé styled crepes. Some had a cracker base with caviar and a tiny fragment of truffle oil on top. The second was a more sweet variety with a dark chocolate biscuit base with some chantilly cream and a thinly diced quarter cut strawberry that had been champagne glazed. The final mini concoctions upon the tray was another cracker based one, squared, with a small slice of cheese and was skewered with a toothpick that had an olive sliced open on top. Casual fare for the start of luncheon, if not slightly underwhelming.
But this did not deter the guests, not even indignation could upset the gloomy atmosphere as they started to silently eat the starter course for lunch.

After the starter course was finished, a five minute reprieve was held. During these five minutes, Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer felt it his duty as host to start up a conversation.
“I trust that all is well?” he asked briskly to all in attendance.
“To be quite clear, no, it is not!” Lady Constance Lattimer announced as nobody else had made a notion to reply after a few seconds of silence.
“What grievances do you have, Lady Lattimer? Please be clear and candid so I may respond in kind,” he stated plainly, the no-nonsense countenance upon his face one of serious serenity.
“To start, why have the police not been called?” she asked in a more humbled voice, the sincere look of their host off-putting her in a way she could not describe.
“That, dear Lady, if simple enough to explain. As stated, this is a party hosted by me and this hunt is part of the weekend activities for my guests to enjoy. Calling the police to be flat-footing around would disrupt the festivities. This Manor is situated at least 150 miles acreage with nothing but countryside between us. Besides, even if one would make it to civilisation, the local constabulary in the village would hardly be proper as the distance would make it more difficult for them to get here to be of any use. Does that answer to your question be deemed as satisfactory?” Henry Carmichael Lattimer said solemnly.
Lady Constance Lattimer just looked quietly at their host, her mind somewhat stalling to find a response. In the end, she just made a brief nod demurely as she tipped her wide-brimmed hat down with this motion of her head and glanced away, feeling her question had indeed been answered but not in the hopes she had wanted.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 4…)


A awkward moment of silence was had within the dining room, until the five minute reprieve was up and the lunch course was served.
An assortment of meat cuts were plastered upon the nine plates, a vignette of assorted rooted vegetables as an accompaniment with what looked like steamed with butter grated potatoes. The meat was not average fair, that was plain to be seen. The cuts glistened with a gravy jus sauce whilst the beef, pork, duck and lamb portions was still slightly sizzling upon the plates served in front of the guests and their host.
The sound of cutlery cutting and slicing into this meal was all that was heard as the guests and their host began partaking of the meal.
After a few minutes of solitude, the silence was broken once more by a question a guest put forth.
“Excuse my impertinence, sir. I just wanted to know what would happen if one of us happened to kill you?” Jerry Lattimer asked in a serious tone of voice.
Henry Carmichael Lattimer took his time to mull the question over, as he delicately placed down his knife and fork to interrupt his halfway eaten meal.
“Well, that is a perturbing question. But maybe not in the way you are thinking. If I should die or be murdered, well, the games continue. I have it on good authority that in my youth there was a game we lads would play. It was a game much alike “King Of The Hill”, if my memory serves me correctly. It is called “This Means War!”. But in this game you would “die” in a sense and the game would continue until only one person “survived”. Of course, this was but a children’s game, nobody actually died or got anything for being the “survivor”. That is what would happen,” replied back Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer as his eyes gleamed at recalling a childhood memory.
Mr. Jerry Lattimer just took this information with face value, his intriguing question now sated by this simple answer.
‘So, we are to continue this game until the end,’ Jerry Lattimer thought bitterly to himself as he forced himself back to eating awkwardly with the other guests and their host.


Lunch was soon finished as the clock chimed upon the hour, signalling the end of the meal by one o’clock.
Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer stood upright from his chair after the manservants took away the empty or partially eaten plates from the dining room table.
“Now, I must admit, I have been remiss in treating you all fairly. The game has been a toll upon you all. Either both physically or mentally. So, if you so wish it, enjoy a brief break of relaxation and rest for the time being. I do not know what the future may bring, but I am eager to wager not one of you will survive the rest of the day,” challenged Henry Carmichael Lattimer seriously as he slowly gazed at the surviving guests around the dining room table.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 5… )


Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price did not seem perturbed in the slightest by Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer’s gaze. If anything, she just smiled kindly in her eyes back at him. The old lady seemed to not let the look distract her from having a good time, in a manner of speaking. Of course, death and tragedy did put a damper on things, but death was a part of life and she has lived a long life. She just seemed to cosy in her chair in a relaxed state, her woollen overcoat making her rest comfortably as Mr Henry Carmichael Lattimer stopped staring at her.

Terry Lattimer-Davies did not look amused in the stare their host gave him. He held no respect for their host any longer, the teenager’s eyes radiating a contemptible look of hatred. But, the fire of rebellion was snuffed out as the stern look the military man gave did not waver for but a moment in Terry’s direction. Glancing down as Henry Carmichael Lattimer’s eyes met his, Terry Lattimer-Davies cursed his youthful ambition and cowardice. As he glanced back up, their host had already drawn his attention away to another guest.

Lady Constance Lattimer did not look away from their host as his gaze was upon her, her decorum one of fervent ferocity. Though one would not call it malicious in intent, definitely not at all ladylike in manners and customs, it showed a panache of bullheadedness and brashness one would expect of an imposing figure of renown.
She did not flinch an inch from her baleful stare at their host, her back perfectly poised in her dining room chair. If practicality suited it, then she deemed it necessary to stand her ground in this battle of reproachable behaviour. Though a very slight nod of his head seemed to win her the battle, as he drew his gaze at another without a word.

Guye Lattimer seemed bored, their eyes half shut out of lazing in their chair. There was not much to gleam from this guest’s perspective as their host was looking at them. Their posture was relaxed and calm, having toyed with their fingertips laced in an interwoven pattern between their hands. Gazing at the interplay of their stylised hands, Guye seemed to not pay attention to the world around them, obviously lost in their own thoughts before letting out a contented sigh and leaning back in their chair. Taking their hat, Guye Lattimer eased it over their face and seemed to cut themselves even more out of the equation by closing their eyes fully before drifting off into a mid day nap within their dining room chair.

Mr. Jerry Lattimer beheld the gaze of Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer with a befuddled gander. Holding a half-filled glass of bitters on the rocks within his right hand, Jerry slowly swallowed a mouthful of it before placing the glass back down onto the black marble table.
He made no motion to speak, however, he made sure his glint in his sharp minded eyes conveyed a somewhat warning glance at their host not to trifle with his guests. This was obviously lost in communication between the two, but Jerry Lattimer did not know that. Feeling his look was enough, he looked away from their host. Jerry Lattimer’s troubled mind was getting the better of him as the flood of memories within the last day and a half caught up to him. Even with a brilliant deducing mind like his, Mr. Jerry Lattimer had to admit even to himself that the guilt he felt at what he had witnessed thus far had been a toll upon his mind.

Alfred Lattimer did not glance away, even though the ten year old boy felt a need to tear his eyes from this man that had put them all in this situation currently. The anguished pain he felt was tolerable, he knew this to be true. The relatives he had recently met were playing right into the game Mr. Henry had set. But, Alfred felt a sense of bitterness towards the ones playing the game, like Alberta and Kyle. They set the game to be starting, for all the relatives here, Alfred included, need not have started the games. It was not forced upon them at gunpoint or anything. Just one slight incentive at riches or power and that pushed them to start killing each other. Alfred just realised in that instant, he hated his family, these relatives that did not treat human life as precious. But maybe that was for the best. It was, as Mr. Henry had claimed, a hunt. But, if Mr. Henry is right and another would not last the day, whom would be the hunter?


(to be continued…)

 

[Copperfox]

“Possibly by adaptive means, sir,” replied Gerard with a dry sense of wit.

I do enjoy dry humor. By the way, Gerard meant to say "adoptive."

 

[SimonW]

“Possibly by adaptive means, sir,” replied Gerard with a dry sense of wit.

I do enjoy dry humor. By the way, Gerard meant to say "adoptive."

Indeed, dry humour is quite common wit. By the way, Gerard said what I intended. Adaptive, in a sense represented a means to camouflage one’s intentions by adapting to the situation at hand. If I meant adoptive, would have used the word. But adoptive is and has no sense in the structure of what I wished to convey. Just wanting to clarify. Besides, I feel it is more menacing to imply that Lady Constance Lattimer may in fact know how she treats people will possibly lead to harm to herself, which is more intriguing in a sense.


( chapter 4, part 6…)

Miss Sidney Lattimer did not glance up at their host, fearful of the look he was undoubtably giving her in the moment. She felt uncomfortable about this entire situation she was in with the rest of the family. Keeping her hands demurely clasped together within her lap, Sid Lattimer just kept her eyes glued to her white lace gloved hands until she felt the judging gaze leave her presence.

Mr. Jacob Lattimer beheld a snide sneer upon his face, but not one of disgust or malice at their host. The gambler was smirking in excitement, feeling that Henry Carmichael Lattimer and himself were finally seeing eye to eye, in a manner of speaking. Since he had listened gravely to the words their host had stated, he had perked up at the gambling analogy and turn of phrase he instantly picked up upon in their host’s speech. As Henry Carmichael Lattimer’s gaze soon swept over to him, Jacob felt a sense of ease as he did not sense any accusation within his eyes or harsh judgement. Jacob Lattimer, for the first time, felt he could relax as his identity of not being a flesh and blood Lattimer was still not known, otherwise he felt he would have been kicked from the party at this point. As he released his pent up worry from his mind, Jacob Lattimer took a moment to calmly stare back at their host before their host returned his glance to all assembled party guests once more.
“As stated, I may be giving you all more credit, as I have high hopes of the hunt to continue. But, as I also have announced, please, explore at your leisure my abode,” finalised Henry Carmichael Lattimer at the remaining guests with almost indifference.
With these parting words, Henry Carmichael Lattimer stood up from his chair and left the dining room, leaving the guests to their own devices.

As soon as they watched their host leave via the dining room doorway, the dining room was abuzz of activity from the remainder of the survivors of Lattimer relatives. It all started when some agitated and concerned voices started to uproar in a sensible yet open attitude as people started talking over one another in heated conversation.
“Who does that man think he is?”
“Are we all going to die here?”
“I never agreed to this in the first place!”
“There must be some mistake…”
“What did I miss?”
“We all have to be calm right now…”
“What a cad! Let me never get on his bad side…”

The only calm and rational people within the room was Guye Lattimer, whom was still lazily napping in their chair and the silent but ever present manservants that stood against the wall, ready at attention.
Guye lazily lifted the brim of their hat as the men and women in present company were interrupting their midday nap.
Without any warning, they unholstered their gun and blasted a shot into the air. BANG!
The sharp and loud sound caused several people to reflexively wince and hold their ears, but the noise had the desired effect of all the jibber-jabbering to cease.
“Would you please keep that thing holstered? The sound is deafening!” exasperatedly exclaimed Lady Constance Lattimer with reproach and disdain at the noisy gun in Guye Lattimer’s hand.


( to be continued.,,)

 

[Copperfox]

Okay, I stand corrected.

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 7…)

Guye Lattimer did not respond, merely smirking as they expertly reholstered their Smith and Wesson, sitting up from their relaxed position within their chair.
“Yes, granted, we all lost our heads slightly,” lightly remarked Mr. Jerry Lattimer.
He was smoothing his head of black hair back to steady his nerves slightly and gain control of his mind once more. He placed his glass of bitters to the side, intent to keep a level and clear head going forward.
“Oh, cut it out, will ya? We all knows ya ain’t got a spine, Mr. Detective,” mockingly replied back Terry Lattimer-Davies snidely with a dirty grimace aimed at Jerry Lattimer.
“You have no right to say that, you young hooligan,” reproached Lady Constance Lattimer with a look of disfavour upon her face.
“Says the old sourpuss. I am sorry, but mind your manners, Your Ladyship,” sniped back Miss Sidney Lattimer with almost as much venom in the direction of the snake.
“Well, I never! And I had high hopes from you!” mournfully declared Lady Constance Lattimer, her mock shock and horror mortified upon her face.
“Now, don’t make me use my gun again. I hate to leave…extra bodies,” lightly threatened Guye Lattimer, having been fed up with this drama.
This seemed to placate the company amongst them for the moment, an awkward yet grateful silence as the guests quietly settled down but gave each other filthy looks between themselves.
“This is such a delight. I wonder why we never got together before?” quipped out Mr. Jacob Lattimer with a huge grin upon his face.
This response just seemed to incite glares his way but Jacob Lattimer did not let it faze him in the slightest. He merely
shrugged in response off the dirty looks and lightly played with a card in between his fingers.

Alfred Lattimer was silent as all of this was happening in front of him. These proceedings only cemented his hatred for his so called family. Even though Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price seemed to do nothing, he felt indifferent towards her now. Even doing nothing in response to all these crazy goings on was still indecisive in Alfred’s eyes. He did not blame her, she probably could do only nothing at this moment. Her old age was probably the only reason she did nothing and said nothing in response.

The old lady merely sipped her tea as chaos ensued around her, treating the family as out of control children that would cease at their own time. And cease they eventually did as the silence was deafening, even with Mr. Jacob Lattimer’s impromptu comment.
Placing her teacup down upon the black marble tabletop, Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price swallowed her tea down her throat and coughed slightly, which garnered the attention of all sitting at the table.
“It has come to my attention that we are all gathered here, bickering like idiots. Does that not concern any of you right now? Could it not be possible that was our host’s intention at this luncheon? For in order for us to play his game, he has gotten us all riled up against one another? Now, I intend to go to my room to freshen up and calm myself. I am disappointed in you all, least of which is Albert. The CHILD here, has more common decency than all of you. Good afternoon,” chided Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price as she stood up and left the dining room into the hallway.
She had left everyone speechless and embarrassed at her remarks, leaving them to think upon their words and actions as Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price made her way upstairs towards her bedchamber.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 8…)

There was nothing left to be said after the exit from Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price. The remaining guests sitting by the marble table decided to leave one by one until only Guye Lattimer was the only one remaining in the dining room. The bounty hunter held themself quite well, despite the circumstances. Idly toying with their Smith and Wesson in their hands, they cocked and un-cocked the revolver’s safety latch a few times in habitual repetition until holstering it once more in their inside jacket holster.
With a sigh of boredom, Guye Lattimer got up from their seat and made their way back to their own bedroom.


It was at precisely three-thirty when the next victim was decided. A loud shot had been heard at three-twenty six, a mere four minutes before the surviving family members gathered. The only missing guests was Dorothy Lattimer-Price, Jacob Lattimer and Guye Lattimer. But it did not take too long for two of the three to gather with the others, perplexed and as confused as the other guests were as to what was going on.
It became apparent that the missing party guest was Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price, the old lady whom had chided almost everyone a mere two hours ago at lunch. If anybody was still sceptical, it was even more obvious as Mr. Jerry Lattimer opened her bedroom door and the inside of her bedchamber was awash with a streak of blood. The still frame of her dishevelled body lay out in the middle of her room, the head not visible but a pool of blood seeping in a puddle upon the carpeted floor.
Nobody made a sound as the crime scene was freshly accessed by those seeing the bloody scene in front of them. Not even the sensitive Alfred Lattimer made a sound, possibly too shocked in the moment to fully register what he was seeing, let alone feeling.

“She was shot fairly recently, from what I can gather,” stated Jerry Lattimer after a few moments as everybody was soaking up the crime scene mentally and physically with their eyes.
“Well, no duh, Mr. Detective,” brashly announced Terry Lattimer-Davies, the teenage youth seeming to convey his shock through rudeness.
Mr. Jerry Lattimer ignored the teen and stepped into the room, anxious to get a better look at the body. He bent down and got a closer look at Mrs. Dorothy’s lifeless corpse. Her fading hue of pigmentation of the skin grew a slightly ashen tone, the first signs that life was now devoid within her system. Gently touching the chin of the deceased, he turned it slightly to be glancing up at him. Those eyes that were so full of life were now a pale blue grey in comparison. He noticed a clean hole upon the side of her head, the entry wound of the bullet, no doubt about it. There were no scorch marks of residual gunpowder at the temple, meaning the gun had been fired from a fair distance. Yes, this was no suicide. Of that, Mr. Jerry Lattimer was certain.
The murder weapon lay a few feet from the body, an obvious sign of being used recently as the smell of fresh gunpowder lingered in the air. Even at this distance, it was obvious what type of gun it was. A Smith and Wesson, one that Jerry Lattimer and the other guests were all too familiar with. They had all seen it being used by it’s owner a mere two hours ago in the dining room. All judgemental eyes turned to the figure of Guye Lattimer as the bounty hunter seemed to shrug in bafflement. It soon dawned upon the gathered guests that the murder weapon was a distinct weapon owned by one of their own in the scene of the crime soon after finding a dead body, pandemonium had sprung upon them.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 9…)

“Why would you kill her?” belligerently asked Lady Constance Lattimer, more in surprise than disgust.
Guye Lattimer just glanced at her and gave another shrug of their shoulders in reply.
“I know how it looks, but I didn’t kill her,” they responded simply after a second or two had passed.
“B..b..but, it’s your gun,” stuttered out Miss Sidney Lattimer towards Guye Lattimer.
“Anybody could have taken it from my room. I remember leaving it in my holster upon the bed as I took a shower,” Guye said as they crossed their arms and raised an eyebrow in recollective thought.
“At what time exactly was this shower of yours?” interjected Mr. Jerry Lattimer, as he held his chin reflexively in a mindful manner.
“I don’t know precisely. I hardly noticed the time as I had no watch in the shower,” replied Guye Lattimer with a shake of their head in baffled mirth.
“Okay, granted, that was not the right question. How about after your shower? Do you know what the time was then?” Jerry Lattimer seemed somewhat crowed but asked a more sensible question to Guye Lattimer.
“I noticed the time upon my bedside table clock. It was about two-fifty, I think. I noticed the gun was not in my holster about that time too,” admitted Guye Lattimer as they sighed out of melancholy.
“Well, how do we know you are telling the truth, eh?” boldly asked Terry Lattimer-Davies whilst glancing in the direction of Guye Lattimer.
Before Guye Lattimer could respond, a deep clearing of the throat drew the attention of everyone from behind them.
“If I may be so bold, Master Terry? I can vouch for Guye Lattimer, as I had delivered a towel to their room to replace the one they just used. They are speaking the truth. I was with them when they found their gun missing,” stated Gerard, the head butler, whom had appeared behind the troupe of relatives gathered within Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price’s bedroom.
“Well, looks like I got an alibi. So, out with it, which one of you stole my gun?” Guye Lattimer asked in reproaching seriousness, looking more upset at their property being stolen than the fact it was used in a killing.
The other guests looked timidly at one another, all but one. Jerry Lattimer just surveyed them before putting his hand down from his chin.
“I think this is a complex case. Not from the fact this is a simple killing. No, that is obvious to conclude. But, from the implications of framing another of us. Do you all agree with this?” Jerry Lattimer asked collectively, which brought the others to all nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, that’s good and all. But, I still don’t know why her,” Terry Lattimer-Davies said in a slightly jeering tone whilst gesturing to the dead body laid before them upon the floor.
“I’m sorry, but what do you mean?” Mr. Jerry Lattimer asked the rebellious teenager.
“I mean, doofus, why her? I’d have thought you would be more a target to die is all I’m saying,” the teenager put simply.
Mr. Jerry Lattimer smirked, not paying attention to the negative comments that Terry Lattimer-Davies was indicating.
“That, my friend, is actually a good point,” he replied in a thoughtful manner once more, crouching down to contemplate the crime scene.
“Yeah, yeah. I know, I ain’t totally daft, ya know,” off-handedly waved Terry Lattimer-Davies, not paying the wannabe detective anymore thought.

( to be continued…)

 

[Copperfox]

Do you go to see stage plays? If yes, perhaps you're familiar with the phrase "drawing-room comedy." In view of the fact that an indoor theater cannot easily simulate outdoor action in a wide area, it's a lot easier for the playwright to write all ON-stage action as occurring inside a house. Then characters can simply TALK ABOUT any events which need to have occurred outside.

Your story here would work successfully as a stage play.

 

[SimonW]

Do you go to see stage plays? If yes, perhaps you're familiar with the phrase "drawing-room comedy." In view of the fact that an indoor theater cannot easily simulate outdoor action in a wide area, it's a lot easier for the playwright to write all ON-stage action as occurring inside a house. Then characters can simply TALK ABOUT any events which need to have occurred outside.

Your story here would work successfully as a stage play.

I do not go mostly, but I do like stage plays in general. I guess I just have a knack for conveying the sense of a stage play in written form without knowing I automatically do it. Maybe I am also trying to, not intentionally, convey the trapped sense, as in the condensed feeling of being in the Manor House. Despite the fact nothing physically is stopping our characters from just leaving.

Thank you for the sentiment, Copperfox.

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 10…)

The seven remaining family members of House Lattimer grew quiet as Jerry Lattimer slowly stood up from his crouched position after glancing intently over the scene of the crime. He seemed slightly flustered in irritation as he lifted his hand to his head in puzzlement.
“I must admit, I am baffled. Unless…” trailed off Jerry Lattimer in spoken out thoughts before advancing towards the other eight people in the room.
“Excuse me for a second. I need to observe something,” Jerry explained to the throng of people that instantly parted as Jerry Lattimer said these words.
“I knew it, he’s a lunatic,” said Lady Constance Lattimer to nobody in particular, just voicing her opinions to the open air as Jerry Lattimer had left behind the party of guests and Gerard the head butler in a flash.
He did not stop for a second, his aim in his sights as he came upon Guye Lattimer’s room with purpose.
Opening the door quickly, Jerry Lattimer began his search of the room, taking note the clock upon the bedside nightstand as Guye Lattimer had claimed. The clock read three-thirty five. Gosh, had it been only five minutes already since the discovery of the body? Mr. Jerry Lattimer took stock of it being the correct time with his wrist watch and scrunched his face up in determination of thought. The empty holster of the Smith and Wesson lay upon the untouched covers of Guye Lattimer’s bed.
It seemed exactly as Guye Lattimer had described. At least, this room was. Eager to continue his investigation, Jerry Lattimer went and opened the door to the adjacent bathroom. It did not take him long to search, there was only one thing he needed to do. Crouching down to the bathtub shower, Jerry Lattimer inspected the tub with his fingers, finding them to be slightly wet from residual water in the bottom. Satisfied he had all he needed, Jerry Lattimer left the room of Guye Lattimer and made his way back to the gathered party within what was Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price’s bedroom.

There seemed to be a ruckus of altercation by the time Mr. Jerry Lattimer came back, having heard the rowdy voices from the hallway.
Alfred Lattimer seemed upset, that much was clear as Miss Sidney Lattimer was gently trying to hold him from going after Terry Lattimer-Davies. Terry seemed belligerent and was being held not so gently back by Jacob Lattimer, whom seemed to be struggling with the teenager to stop him from getting physical with the ten year old Alfred.
“I dun care what ya say! I didn’t do it, you little piece of shite!” yelled out Terry to Alfred, the teen testing the grip of Jacob as he squirmed to break free. But Jacob did not relent his hold on the irate teenager.
This seemed too much for Lady Constance Lattimer, whom was standing far back from the fray, being shielded by hiding behind Gerard at a safe distance. Guye Lattimer was just watching it all unfold, they were not interested in the slightest at these childish tantrums. They just stayed leaning against the wall with their arms folded calmly.
“I know you did it! What did she ever do to you, huh?” was the grief-stricken outburst from the usually soft spoken Alfred Lattimer as he fiercely hugged the dress folds of Miss Sidney Lattimer with tears rolling down his face.
The child was obviously emotional, but his cries were of venom as his eyesight of hatred did not leave Terry’s for a moment. Vindictive accusation was apparent within the eyes of Alfred Lattimer, but obviously out of angry grief rather than reason.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 4, part 11…)

Mr. Jerry Lattimer had heard enough as he had stumbled back into this scene of angry chaos unfold before himself.
“Enough of this, please. Alfred, Terry, you should know better,” rashly commanded Jerry Lattimer in a strict tone.
This seemed to have stopped the two irrational children in their tracks, at least for the moment as Terry Lattimer-Davies finally ripped himself free of Jacob Lattimer and sized up Jerry Lattimer whilst sticking a pointer finger close to the face of Jerry Lattimer.
“Dun tell me what to do, Mr. Detective. I ain’t got time for your bull,” the teenage hooligan snapped out at Jerry Lattimer.
The sixteen year old adjusted his black jacket roughly before shouldering past Jerry Lattimer as he stormed out of the room and walked down the hallway with fervent steps.
“Should I go after him?” timidly asked Jacob Lattimer to Jerry Lattimer.
“No, it’s okay. Best to let him go cool off for now,” replied Jerry Lattimer whilst letting out a sigh before turning his attention to Alfred Lattimer.
The ten year old boy had let his rage subside as the fuel for igniting such indignation was no longer in the room. He silently sobbed into Miss Sidney Lattimer’s embrace, whilst she tried her best to comfort him by giving him endearing hugs.
Mr. Jerry Lattimer just paid it no mind, mentally noting to himself that he had to have a discussion with Alfred later. Now was not the best time for interrogation of the young boy, lest he may become more distraught even further under scrutiny.
Sighing once more to himself silently, Mr. Jerry Lattimer slumped his shoulders in defeat. This was a harrowing day, his mental fortitude not up to snuff against the sudden outburst of rambunctious children.
A sudden tap upon his shoulder accompanied by the clearing of the throat made him jump slightly and face Lady Constance Lattimer, whom had regained her own composure once the situation of unruly children had been dealt with.
“Well, Mr. Jerry, what are we to do now?” she sharply asked with renewed attention to the current case at hand.
“I recommend we retire to our bedrooms for the time being. This case is baffling and no doubt this upset has affected us all,” he said plainly, the countenance upon his face that bearing a somewhat tired and weary expression.
There was no reply, though Lady Constance Lattimer held back her opinion on the matter, as she too felt exhausted by the current timeline of events that transpired today.
“Then, let us depart and think more with refreshed minds,” muttered Jacob Lattimer, putting on a fake jovial tone that only earned him a sharp look of disdain and disgust from Lady Constance Lattimer.
Nothing was left to be said as the air hung heavy with tension and unbearable atmosphere once more with the present company gathered in the hallway. The six guests split from each other, Terry Lattimer-Davies having already retired to his own room earlier.
Gerard the head butler escorted Lady Constance Lattimer demurely back to her room, possibly for ease of her own mind of some form of safety with a member of the household staff as small comfort.
Miss Sidney Lattimer and Alfred retreated back towards Alfred Lattimer’s room together, obviously to ease Alfred’s fragile mind of what he was going through at the moment.
Jacob Lattimer seemed somewhat chipper as he branched off to his own bedroom, obviously this was better than he expected. Pretty soon, he figured, everybody else would break each other apart, mentally or physically. Of this he felt guaranteed to bet upon.
It was only the two of them left together, Guye Lattimer and Jerry Lattimer. The two of them had watched as the other guests and the head manservant had broken off to return respectfully to their own bedchambers.
“So, no idea who did it yet?” Guye Lattimer casually asked to Jerry Lattimer.
Mr. Jerry Lattimer glanced over to his compatriot and broke a half crooked smile.
“Not a bleeding clue. But, that was a nice alibi you got there by Gerard. Tell me, do you think he could have stolen your gun?” Jerry asked cautiously, a spark of an idea forming in his mind.
“What, the butler did it? Nah, I mean, what would he gain for doing so? Besides, I would have killed him myself if he did,” replied back seriously Guye Lattimer, before going back to their own room within the upstairs hallway.
‘Well, there goes that theory. A pity,’ thought Jerry Lattimer solemnly before entering his own bedroom.


( to be continued…)