The Hunting Of The Lattimer Party

[SimonW]

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Letters…


The automobile chugged along the winding path of dirt and loose cobble with an almost pathetic whine as the two occupants were trying to haphazardly avoid bumping into each other in the back seat. They did not speak nor make eye contact with each other being practically strangers, letting the countryside whizz past as the sun peeked through the numerous tree lines going past the window of the car. One would scarcely know the two passengers to be related were it not for the fine features of heredity within their bone structure and a mild case of downtrodden contempt at their bumpy predicament they found themselves within. The only notable link was a black envelope clutched within the man’s hand. Meanwhile, the woman sitting beside him had it peeking from her altruistic blue handbag, which she held in her lap to steady herself from the old ridden country road.
The ride was unpleasant for both occupants but after the driver had shifted gears it became apparent their destination was in view just up the road, a looming mass of brown and grey as the Lattimer Manor was just ahead. The big mansion seemed isolated as the gates were already open to receive visitors to the gathering this evening, the sun already dipping below the tree line that was on both sides densely creating an almost wooden private barricade of wood and foliage to the estate.
The car stopped short in front of the mansion with the awning of the front looking ominous yet inviting to the last guests that exited the stopped vehicle, grateful the bumpy ride was now over.
The driver did and said nothing after the guests had departed his vehicle, merely waiting inside the car as the man left after the lady and closed the car door behind him after getting out.
With not an utterance of warning, the driver and his car backed down the driveway and left back down the cobblestone road back the way he came after making a u-turn to get out.
Not taking notice of this hasty retreat, the man and woman just wandered over to the entranceway of the manor and stood under the awning whilst awaiting at the brown brass doorway that stood before them.
Taking the initiative, the man raised his hand and pulled upon a side pull string bell that peeled into the ether of the confines of the house, announcing that somebody had arrived at the front entranceway.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 2 )


The ringing of the front doorbell continued for at least five or so seconds before stopping and about a minute continued thereafter of awkward silence between the two awaiting upon the entranceway of Lattimer Manor.
The man seemed to not observe the woman with an almost noncommittal air about his person, merely crossing his arms after having rung the doorbell and tapping the black envelope within his hand against his left arm. The woman just side-glanced with as much interest which made her see his motion but she haphazardly quickly looked away with boredom and grasped her blue handbag within her hands closer to her personage.
The front oaken door in front of the two guests opened with a gentle sway and light swept from the inside of the manor upon the two as they almost seemed impatient to the waiting time. A greying old man dressed in black with white gloves hailed them with a slight bow gesture.
“Good evening, you are expected,” he humbly said to them and stood aside as his quick eyes perceived the black envelopes they had upon their person.
With nary a word but slight nod of understanding, the man haphazardly wandered in ahead of the woman, manners being pushed aside his hurry as the woman seemed slightly annoyed by his brash and uncouth nature before she too stepped into the main hallway of the house.
The light was awash in brightness as the bulbs of hanging ornate lamps aside both sides of the doorway they entered from illuminated the space in a warm tone which pleased the aesthetic of accented burgundy maroon wallpaper in contrast to the brick grey decor of the outside of the manor. Rustic chic decor of the wooden doorway framed the dark oak and lavish speckled gold trimmed accents that screamed an old yet rich lifestyle. This of course did not impress the two guests as they slowly glanced around the room with no direction as of yet where to go or what to do in this established house they were unfamiliar with.


( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 3 )

The old manservant guided the two people with a hand motion to the left after deftly closing the front door of Lattimer Manor and subtly latching the locking mechanism.
“This way, if you please,” he uttered and walked towards a double door also rich in oaken burgundy before stopping and opening the doors with a flourish with both his white gloved hands.
The room seemed to occupy a wide guest parlour or cocktail bar with some draperies of deep red with pull curtain cords of gold speckled splendour that were drawn over what appeared to be a wayside window. There was nobody else in this space but the butler did not dawdle despite his old visage as he directed his attention to a doorway upon the opposite side at the end which was a modest brown accented with oak finish.
After bowing as he turned to the two guests, he opened this door with more modesty and stood to the side to allow the guests passage into the new path before them.
The first thing drawing the attention of this space was a dining hall of sorts, a long well polished what appeared to be deep black marble dining table taking up the majority of this large room with striking almost pearl white four corner pillars that acted as supportive motifs from floor to ceiling. The Roman artisan style would almost clash with this but the accented white walls and the striking centrepiece black marble table stood a good contrast before the two guests noticed at least eleven others were seated upon velvet red cushioned seats around the table and were all gazing at them with at least genuine curiosity.
An awkward silence hang in the air for a short moment before the old butler behind them cleared his throat before speaking to the assembled party.
“Mr. Jerry Lattimer and Lady Constance Lattimer are present. Please, take a seat,” he announced in a clear yet almost directed tone to the room and gestured towards two vacant chairs that were at opposite sides of the table besides one at the opposite head seat at the far end.
Sighing in an almost extravagant manner, Jerry Lattimer sat on the left side unoccupied seat at the closer end, finding himself next to a younger looking chap that seemed too chipper looking in excitement for Jerry’s liking.
Lady Constance Lattimer did not seem as perturbed as she sat opposite, finding herself between another female occupant and a man of what she assumed of dubious bearing.
As they seated themselves, the butler gave a curt nod of his head and closed the door behind him as the door at the opposite end of the dining hall opened almost with a slight creak that made all of the thirteen to glance in that direction.



( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 4 )

A procession of ten maids and manservants entered the dining room, with the sorting of one woman and one man interlaced in the queue until they all vacated to the sides of the seated guests and stood resolutely against the white walls with decorum.
As the last manservant entered, the doorway was once again filled but this time with a distinct aura of power and upperclass majesty that seemed to be radiating of old powerful magnetism from a military figure dressed to the nines in regimental garments and medals.
With a golden monocle covering his good eye that slightly gleamed with favoured optimism, the man whom looked to be seventy in the shade did a swift nod and tipped his white hunter hat to the thirteen seated ahead of him before going to the back of the head seating chair.
The head butler that had received the guests earlier did not dally in his duties as he seemed to move more quickly and with a slight bow had taken the chair slightly out from the black marble table to allow the man behind it access.
Sitting himself in the chair, the stern militant gave a nod of approval to the head butler before turning his serious gaze upon the guests once more.
“Thank you all assembled for coming this evening,” uttered in a solemn yet receptive tone from the coarse lips of the apparent host of the night.
The thirteen guests did not utter a word, though it seemed open to do so. But the atmosphere of the military man seemed bizarre and an air of tense unsaid caution seemed to sway the moment as the host of the evening pursed his white moustache in a tutting motion.
“Well, any questions to start?” he asked with a glint of questioning in his dark brown eyes.



( to be continued)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 5 )


The air within the room was incredibly stale, a stagnant stillness for a few seconds of absolute silence within like the eye of a thunderous hurricane. Then, absolute chaos seemed to break through this empty space as thoughts made their ways out into the room by a sudden torrent of thirteen voices rising as one big sound by multiple people letting their voices be heard but not making sense as their numerous questions fired out all at once with no rhyme or reason.
The military head figure did not seem perturbed in the slightest by this bombardment of haphazard noise assaulting him. He merely gave a curt nod and held up his hand in an authoritarian manner. The guests seemed to stop at this gesture as their gaze was solely fixated upon their host that seemed to hail them into quiet with just a motion. The guests seemed more embarrassed by their manner of sudden reproach for crassness before one solitary figure at the table raised their hand slightly timidly.
“Yes, Alfred?” the head of the table asked, glancing at the raised hand of a boy dressed fashionably whom looked no more older than ten or so.
All eyes shifted to the lad whom looked nervous but seemed to steel his resolve as the youngest at the table here in a room of adults to be the first to ask his question out of the drowning of whispered glances that seemed to plague his young mind.
“E…excuse me, Sir. But who exactly are you?” the slight stutter betrayed the young boy’s confidence but his quivering question was heard as the room was silent once more as Alfred lowered his arm.
Suddenly, a wry throaty chuckle from the head of the table stopped the silence after the boy known as Alfred had asked his question. The other twelve guests seemed to draw their attention back to the military man, assuming he was not taking the boy’s questioning seriously. But it was surprising to all sitting around the table that the old man pounded the black marble table with his hand in mirth before he suddenly stopped laughing and grew serious once more.
“Out of the mouth of a child, the first clear question has been asked. Very well, I shall tell you. My name is Senior General Henry Carmichael Lattimer, retired of the two hundred and third regiment of her royal armament force.Though I am a military man, I go by my retirement moniker of “Mister”. I am also your host for this evening. Does that satisfy your question, Alfred?” questioned back the now clear identity of their host that brought them here this evening.
Alfred Lattimer did not respond but merely nodded his head in affirmation at the question directed at him. He did his best to be obscured as he felt his sense of kid-like wonder and bravado be replaced by an inadequate feeling of meekness creep within himself as if the adults in the room judged him. Alfred merely glanced down in shame of his insecurity of being the centre of attention for the second time in his ten years of his life.
But in all retrospect, nobody was judging the timid lad whom boldly spoke up. In all clarity, it was soon brushed away as another of the guests raised their hand in a demure fashion, this time by the black wide hatted female with the blue handbag announced earlier at the start of the evening as Lady Constance Lattimer.
A striking if somewhat glamorous figure as her well maintained pedicured hand demurely rose to the occasion of taking advantage of the silence once the room was silent after the boy named Alfred’s question had been answered.
“Why were we summoned here to this manor, Mr. Lattimer?” she asked in a snide yet inquisitive tone that seemed more curious then rude.
Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer seemed to ponder this with a slight thoughtful expression upon his face before answering this simple question.
“You were brought here at my request, not a summons, my dear Lady Constance. As you undoubtably know from your letters I gave you. Nobody here is against their will. Satisfactory, I presume?” replied their host with an air of dripping solemness in response that held no joviality in his tone nor face.


( to be continued…)

 

[Copperfox]

You know how to make a small detail intriguing. Black envelopes are meaningful to characters? Hints of bigger things!

 

[SimonW]

You know how to make a small detail intriguing. Black envelopes are meaningful to characters? Hints of bigger things!

Well, possibly. We shall see hopefully soon.


( chapter 1, part 6 )

Lady Constance Lattimer just gave a fervent nod of understanding to the gibe she experienced in a reproachable manner. Passing it off as a slight on her behalf, she mentally bit back her tongue at the urge of saying something back in a spiteful manner. But she reminded herself she was at most a guest, possibly the most important in social standing, but still a guest and it would not be Lady-like to snub the host of the evening. Demurely tipping her head in a slightly disengaging manner, Lady Constance distanced herself as it seemed apparent another at the table had a question to announce which swayed the heat from her.
“Am I to reckon we are just here for an evening of games or such?” bluntly asked a teenaged lad in a checkered suit to the right of Jerry Lattimer, his stubbled chin betraying his almost youth like charm that was lost amid a crass upbringing from his almost broken English voice.
Mister Henry Carmichael Lattimer nodded slowly as he seemed to digest the question put before himself by this guest.
“In a manner of speaking, not exactly. Though this is hardly the main focus tonight. I would hope you enjoy this evening as I have prepared rooms for each of you to express my gratitude for you all coming. But first, a brief reminder that this invitation is merely for the holders of my black letters and a weekend of luxury shall be at my expense for my only kin. Well, the ones that could make it,” was a lengthy reply to this question but a silence soon fell over the table at this information.
At this moment, Henry Carmichael Lattimer took this chance at the attention he got from his guests to stiffly clap his hands in an efficient manner and the manservants and maids stood rigidly to attention to this summons. With a short nod, they hustled back the way they had come from in rapid procession. The last servant closed the door behind them and the head manservant was the only one in the room.
“Please, do not trouble yourselves over this dilemma. Your families and loved ones know of this arrangement that all of you will be spending leave within my mansion. Think of it as a jaunty weekend getaway, a sabbatical if I could coin a phrase correctly,” their host said in a calming manner, unperturbed by some almost perplexing and worrisome looks he was receiving from some of his guests.



( to be continued… )

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 7)

“Now, please enjoy a meal I have prepared for you all and afterwards the rooms provided shall be at your disposal, “ announced Henry Carmichael Lattimer with almost jovial tone in a benevolent manner that seemed unbecoming his serious military appearance and demeanour.
The servants that had left had returned single file with platters of food accompanying on closh dressed trays within their hands. The table sat in silence as the maids and manservants served a dish in front of each guest, careful not to let them clash to the table already pre-set with cutlery and clear crystal glass goblets. With a slight flourish they removed the covering that kept the food heated and presentable, displaying an almost garish dressed meat and two vegged dish with a side of mashed potatoes. A stack of dressed up lamb chops was the meat of choice tied together in a teepee standing arch held together with a sprig of bendable parsley wrapped around the top of the bones to retain the tent shape. Most of the guests seemed to inwardly sneer at this rather primitive meal, not even taking the glistening of honey slathered over the lamb chops as a dressing as an appropriate accompaniment to the meal. But one guest did not seem to even acknowledge this as the other twelve and their host began to silently and half-heartedly get started with the cutlery squeaking upon the plates being the only sound heard in the huge dining hall.
Sidney Lattimer, otherwise known in local circles as Sid, just gazed with reproach at the meal set before her. She did not move an inch as she stared at the dish in front of her. She was hardly acknowledging the others at the table as the food was presented in front of them all. Sidney Lattimer just stared at it as the rest of the guests and their host started to eat. It wasn’t as if she was even angry at the situation she was placed in. It was just an emotionless outrage upon the 22 year old that made her mind feel uneasy for some reason.
“Is everything all right?” she had heard a voice say next to her before she shook her head to clear her mind and glanced over to the guest next to her that had asked the question in a worried manner.
The speaker was a woman in her early 30’s, or so Sidney Lattimer assumed and dressed in a simple yet practical gown or evening wear.
“No, I’m fine,” Sidney responded in an intake of breath but knew to herself she was lying.
But, to keep up this pretence, Sidney Lattimer just decided to bite the bullet and glanced away from the woman next to her. Sid began to use her cutlery to cut into her dish of food. But in her heart she knew the awkwardness of hesitation at the start of her meal was not fooling anyone around the table as the next ten minutes the guests ate in silence.

( to be continued… )

 

[Copperfox]

It's good that you take the time to specify some details of WHAT FOODS are being eaten. This is part of creating the whole environment in which your characters act and interact.

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 8…)


After having eaten the first course meal, the guests whetted their appetite with an assortment of either wines or water at the behest of the maids and manservants.
The maids removed the partaken meals upon the plates and dirty cutlery as the guests were imbibing themselves with their drinks in the goblets.
Giving another ten minutes to let the guests stomach the meal and drinks, Mister Henry Carmichael Lattimer rested his hands upon the black marble table in a comforting manner befitting his current mood at the head table seat.
One guest, known as Darryl Lattimer, seemed to guzzle his red port wine in a rather hasty manner as opposed to several others. One would assume this crude gesture of bad table manners to be associated to a drunk or alcoholic person. But this was not the case in Darryl Lattimer. No, his affliction was just a fast drinker habit, even if one were to argue the fact his way of drinking in such a manner was way too fast even for an alcoholic beverage. But Darryl did not seem to care for high manners at the table, just going with the flow despite some odd sideways glances from neighbouring parties in his vicinity. The brown-suited Darryl Lattimer did not notice or care in the slightest and just asked a manservant to pour another top up in his empty goblet, which did not sway the manservant in his duty to keep the guests happy at all. Within another four seconds the goblet in Darryl Lattimer’s hand was once again refilled and all was right within Darryl’s world for the time being.
It did not fool anybody around the table that not only was Darryl Lattimer a lush, but also one that flaunted his addiction with not a single worry about how it effected those around him and nor that they knew it.
Darryl gazed over at their so called host with an air of gratitude and lifted his glass halfway up in celebration to his benefactor of the drinks before once again draining the goblet dry in one swift motion.
Having liberated his quench for booze for the moment, Darryl Lattimer put the empty goblet down and sighed contently to himself. He had no worries here, no nagging from his wife to slow his way with the bottle and no nagging from his co-workers to do his job for once. At the moment of bliss as only a lazy human being could be, Darryl Lattimer graced himself with slouching his shoulders in a relaxed state within the oaken chair and focused himself to look over at the lady sitting opposite himself. She seemed to be sipping her own beverage within minute intervals per sip, not noticing Darryl at all but engaged in idle conversations with the guests on either side of her. She nodded politely at the right intervals and seemed genuinely pleased with whatever they were chattering about. She looked no more than about twenty years of age and her style of dress was about too fancy for Darryl’s likes or station. Still, the air around her was intriguing that made Darryl look at her in the first place. Slightly shaking his slightly drunken head in bewilderment at this girl, Darryl took his eyes off her and gazed down once more to his empty goblet clutched within his left hand. With a slight regret slithering in his mind, Darryl ignored this sensation and ordered his goblet to be refilled once more.


( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 9…)

After a slight break of refreshments, the guests were presented with another dish. The platter dish was served in a bowl, new soup spoons upon the side of the silver trays the soup was delivered upon. A waft of steam emanated from the bowls as the silver tops were removed. Nobody said anything as they gazed at the all-white soup dish that had a sprinkling of green looking herbs over the piping hot delicacy they would no doubt enjoy. It looked bland but the smell of cream and what appeared to be hearty stock assaulted them with a favourable smell. As all the thirteen guests leaned over eagerly to try this dish, their host partook his first spoonful of the creamy mixture to allow them the honour of starting to eat as well.
Despite the soup’s bland looking tones, once the creamy soup was tasted, a burst of flavours signified the richness of this dish’s full potential. The herbs were a mix of dill and parsley freshly chopped finely to get as much flavour as possible whilst the white wine reduction sauce was a slight accent in the back of the tastebuds to almost be barely noticeable within the soup’s rich texture. The cream was temporarily added as a base for the whole structure of the soup as the stock was a ham bone with the fat melted down within the bone marrow to give it some more richness. White finely reduced and lightly sautéed mushrooms added to the creaminess of the soup as white onion was also lightly fried before getting added to the soup pot. But the crowning glory was the small amount of white pepper finely grounded and the salt crystals also ground up in a mortar and pestle to add to the already cured ham broth that elevated this white soup concoction.
All guests seemed appeased once more, almost feeling sickly full from this hearty course. The maids and manservants took the liberty of removing the platters of empty soup bowls and used silver soup spoons to allow the guests another ten minute reprieve this evening.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 10…)

Miss Jennifer Lattimer beheld her crystalline glass goblet with poised hands as a precautionary measure so not to let it slip from her dainty fingers. Entranced for the briefest of moments in watching her hands as it steadily held the glass of water, the mind of the twenty year old woman had a slight fixation at wishing it held a stronger tonic of her liking. But, it was a fleeting second in the back of her mind, a whimsy of want that led her to snap back to reality and the cold to the touch drink of water within her hand. Delicately sipping the cold beverage from her glass, Jennifer savoured the cold drink as she swallowed, her full mind now brushing away the slight flight of fancy that was her younger days of drinking things she had now wished she hadn’t.
‘Wishes are for fishes,’ Jennifer Lattimer haphazardly thought to herself in a mental shrug as she blew away her younger days out of her mind.
Miss Jennifer Lattimer’s attention was thankfully grabbed away from herself as she laughed politely in a half-hearted manner at the lady to the left of her had said something possibly vaguely amusing. To Jennifer, it was just a distraction from her own haphazard thoughts of a broken childhood and bad dealings in her recent teenage years that were thankfully behind her for good.
This caused Miss Jennifer Lattimer to gossip in idle banter to her companion on the left, whom seemed to be an elderly lady that introduced herself as Mrs. Dorothy Lattimer-Price, an unassuming grandmother of seventy in the shade. Despite her age and unassuming looks, this old lady had all the animation of a thirty year old and the tone of a child bursting to tell all they thought they knew of the world.

( to be continued…)

 

[Copperfox]

With our peek inside Miss Lattimer's head, once again you do a good job of serving up exposition in manageable doses. We are given a morsel of her history, without losing track of what is her present time.

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 11)

Sitting opposite to the left of Miss Jennifer Lattimer was a broad shouldered man in a sharp black satin suit that did not pry nor engage in the idle talk that the young woman and her elderly companion were having.
In all honest truth, Mr. Kyle Lattimer was a bit uneasy with this gathering. The evident tenseness in his strong jawline was enough to make the extended family member from America be on edge at this English get together. He likened himself to a shark out of familiar waters, no doubt unimpressed by his extended family of English heritage. But that came with the uneasiness he felt, having had no knowledge of his English family members until he had received that black invitation to this family gathering.
A gangster of sorts, Kyle Lattimer primarily grew up in the United States, out in New York City. He figured his mother was English but in his 40 years on this Earth he had no notion to find out about her, only focusing on his Father’s heritage as an Italian American.
As his mind dwelled slightly upon this, Kyle Lattimer raised his goblet to his lips, beer being his drink of choice.
‘God knows I need it,’ he haphazardly thought gruffly to himself as the floating conversational chatter next to him reached his ears.
What were they saying again? Something about world travels or the like, woman gossip no doubt. With nary a comprehension to focus his thoughts to idle gossip or talk, Kyle numbed his mind slightly to tone out the noise like his therapist suggested.
Luckily, the next course of the meal was about to be presented and Kyle did not need to wait long as he silently lowered his goblet and the talking beside him ceased.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 12…)

The next dinner course was in a stylish 1950’s ice cream soda glass with what looked to be a dessert motif presented in front of the thirteen guests. An elongated silver dipping spoon was presented with the floating milkshake concoction with a flair of extravagance to fit the theme of 50’s American Style.
The primary ingredient was milk with a slight chocolate syrup swirl interlaced within the milkshake that was topped with an overly large scoop of chocolate, vanilla and strawberry ice cream. On the top was a whipped cream glaze and peppered with grated nutmeg and green mint chocolate flakes.
A moment of silence was held as each of the guests ate this eloquent dessert and drank the excess milk shake that had a taste of malty goodness within the mixture. Nothing was said as the dessert course was completed, perhaps due to the fact all at the table seemed considerably full after the whole dinner courses. The maids and manservants silently came and removed the used dessert after the guests had their fill, curtsied and bowed before leaving the host and the guests to their own devices.


Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer gazed out at his gathered guests in silence after interlacing his hands upon the marble tabletop, a contemplative look furrowed upon his militant and solemn face. There was no hasty motion in his actions, he just sat stock still whilst continuing to look out at them one by one before exhaling a sigh and bristling his upper lipped moustache with flair.
“As we have come to the early hour of half past seven, I beseech you all to retire to the rooms I have provided for you. Please use these at your leisure before you retire for the night,” Henry Carmichael Lattimer announced with conviction.
An old grandfather clock tucked in a corner of the dining room behind him chimed on the half hour, the hands indicating with the minute hand on the six whilst the hourly hand on the seven.
The guests did not make any motion for a moment as the clock chimed until it had stopped. The only sound to be heard was the continuing ticking as the seconds of the clock was passing by.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 1, part 13…)

As the silence continued it became obvious their host had nothing left to say. With an awkward scraping of chairs, each guest got up from their place at the dining table and the head manservant prematurely walked over to the double doors to open them for the gathered relatives this evening.
The men mostly held back as the women led the walk past the head manservant whom stood by to the side to allow the ladies exit via the now open doorway leading back to the hallway. He indicated with his hand to the solitary main dark burgundy wooden staircase that ascended to an upper hallway.
After the women had left, the men and the ten year old boy left the open doorways and also began the steady incline towards the upper floor landing.
For the briefest of moments, all guests were unsure of what room was theirs but it became apparent with the solidarity of heavy oaken wood that seemed identical that nameplates were fastened at head height with the corresponding guest name in golden plated writing. With almost barely thirteen feet apart from each other’s doors that privacy was not an issue, the guests entered their bedrooms separately.


Mr. Jerry Lattimer twisted his bronze bedroom door handle with ease and swung the hefty door open inwards. The first impression of his room was a bit tawdry for his simple tastes in decor, but then again it was not his choice in the first place. The main focus of the room was a king size bed with frilly lace curtains in pearl white draped over the bed frame posts. There was a small vanity dresser mirror. Next to the dresser was a built in closet that was open at the moment. Some garments were hanging upon coat hangers within the simple closet which sparked Jerry’s curious nature. Walking over and glancing within, Jerry Lattimer became mildly surprised to find the clothing was men’s attire for several occasions, including a set of red striped shorts and shirts.
What really got him thinking in a perplexing manner as he checked these garments was that they seemed the same size for him and the same length.
Shaking his head at the absurdity of it all, Jerry Lattimer sat on the plushy silken laced duvet covers of his bed and gazed down at the black envelope he still had within his hands. It was an unassuming black envelope but upon the back of it was a red printed seal of wax that had previously been broken by him with an emboldened letter L.
Delicately, Jerry Lattimer assumed the others were doing the same with their letters to try and wrap their heads about this weird situation. All one had to do was read the scrawling gold letters on the invitation to understand fully what brought them all here tonight.

Dear reader of this Letter…
You are cordially invited to a dinner party on June the 3rd at 6pm at my lavish estate of Lattimer Mansion.
You and twelve other guests are to receive benefits of a large monetary and emotional value if you can attend.
The black envelopes and this letter contained within are of vital importance if you wish to secure your winnings.
This is all I ask of you and to show up in person on the specified date and time of the event.
Sincerely, Mr. H.C.Lattimer.

There was nothing else upon the letter or within the envelope, just a feeling of puzzlement that over-swept Jerry Lattimer as he placed the placard invitation back carefully within the black envelope.
Sighing slightly to himself, Jerry got up and walked a mere five feet to the cabinet dresser. He deftly placed the envelope upon the white marble top and turned around to gaze at his surroundings once more.


End of Chapter 1

 

[SimonW]

Chapter 2: Let The Game Begin…

The ceiling of the room was fairly high so there was no fear of claustrophobia-inducing panic as Jerry Lattimer glanced over the room he had been given. The marble pillars motif was still Romanesque with a tinge of French influence as the four corners of the room were topped with white to flush with the ceiling. There was a doorway that Jerry Lattimer had not entered but he walked with purpose over to it. The door was nothing special, a white plain one with no ornate handle. After opening this door with ease, Jerry noticed inside was a white tiled floor that seemed to canvas the flooring past the doorway. A simply lavish ensuite bathroom complete with toilet, sink and bathtub stretched for about twelve feet or so before ending in a tiled wall. Well, at least every necessity for human living had been thought of. Jerry shut the bathroom door without interest and turned back to his bedroom.
A large gold copper-plated chandelier hung just off centre from his bed in the middle of the ceiling, a hanging off the wall bedside lamp acting as a means for lighting in this room.
The wallpaper itself was an off-white cream beige that made Jerry cringe slightly but other than that his sleeping area seemed almost pleasant to English standards. Jerry wandered back to his bed and loosened his tie as he started the daily ritual of getting himself ready for bed.


Terry Lattimer-Davies was glancing down at his black envelope that he had tucked within his breast pocket of his tacky orange and red checkered suit. The 16 year old was slightly perturbed by everything that was going on this evening. Sure, the meal was banger but the way the party was played out seemed to unsettle the teenage lad. That was only the start of his thought process as he was practically a stranger amidst other strangers, apparently relatives, but still people he did not know. Shaking his body in a manner of getting this chilling thought out of his skull, Terry felt like a prat in his current dressed state. He normally would not wear a tacky suit such as this to, well, at all anywhere, but he had been desperate to find something apparently suitable for the occasion so had rented out the suit not by choice but urgency of necessity. If he had thought it through, maybe he would realise it was better to dress as himself but was panicked to make apparently a good impression upon what he gathered from the letter he got as relatives. Now, he had just felt like an utter idiot and dork.
This was not him, he felt his rebellious state cry out in anguish to the heavens, not that there was anything to penetrate the ceiling of his private bedroom. But, his anger as a teenager subsided as he knew deep down it was a foolish thought in his mind and allowed himself to flop backwards on his bed as a means of releasing this feeling of melancholy and teenage rebellion.
‘I will stick it to The Man,’ thought Terry bitterly in his head to himself, knowing full well it was an empty promise to himself as he gazed up at the ceiling from his bed.
In a contemplative mood, Terry Lattimer-Davies sat up in his bed and took out the black envelope from his jacket pocket. He considered ripping it with the letter of invitation inside but recalled what was written on there. Untold riches, he needed that. Possibly emotional? Now, that intrigued him more. Sure, money was a reason, a big reason. But a possible clue to his past was what prompted him to come tonight in the first place. Besides, it was family related. Maybe it would not be that bad in the end anyway. But if it weren’t for this confounded stupid suit! Exhausted in a renewed fury at his plight once more, Terry stuffed the black envelope back in his pocket with insufferable indifference.

Mrs. Emily Lattimer, a simple housewife of 34, appreciated her private bedroom. She wore a simple black dress as it was the only glitzy outfit in her wardrobe back home. Her black envelope was sitting upon her marble dresser as she was surveying the cupboard filled with even more lavish clothing. As if like a dream, the clothing within the cupboard was of top tier silken or satin gowns, including a mink coat that she hurriedly had put on over her dress. Adoring the feeling of something she would not normally afford against her skin made the modesty melt away from the usual housewife demeanour Emily Lattimer portrayed. Feeling empowering, she struck a Madonna like pose in the mirror of the dressing table before giggling to herself at how flattering and elegant she looked.
But, the moment of giddy revelry was soon gone as Emily Lattimer felt a twinge of guilt before regaining her composure. She felt slightly silly playing dress up like a young girl, like she did when she was young. Reality crashed into her hard as she recalled whom she was and her life of domestic simplicity. Taking off the mink coat that trailed to her heels, Mrs. Emily Lattimer had rational thinking once again, remembering she had given up her dreams to be a faithful and loving wife to her husband, Sam. If Sam could see her now, he would sarcastically make a rude comment but laugh at the fun she was having. That was Sam, carefree and jovial after all.
Putting the mink coat back in the closet on the hanger, Emily Lattimer sighed in contentment at her current life. It was not her husband’s fault for their financial woes, not that they lived in poverty, but Emily had admitted she and her husband lived decently as a married couple with a house apartment in Slough. They barely got by on Sam’s salary and got welfare money for daily groceries. Emily loves her life but the nagging constant inner voice of her heart had wished for more of a stable lifestyle. She had wanted adventure, excitement, a carefree drinking martinis until the light of dawn that she had seen on some 1940’s movies from the American picture show. But, Mrs. Emily Lattimer has not told these dreams of glitz and glamour to her husband, feeling ashamed as a youngish housewife was not meant to have these feelings for a better life. Sure, it might be nice but the conservative upbringing she had at a young age made her shy at voicing her innermost dreams to anyone. That, she believed, was a flaw she was most tentative about, wanting the dream was good enough as having it in her sleep where nobody would know. And that was the frightening thing about this evening. She enjoyed the company, the drinks, the idle banter at the dinner table as almost like a holiday. But the niggling doubt remained in her mind as she gazed at the mink coat she just wore hanging back in the cupboard. If this evening was planned, which she assumed it was, then the fact the gaudy and lavish clothes were meant as no mistake for her to wear. That meant, she reasoned, that somebody else knew her innermost dreams. That was what bothered her the most and it left her feeling stoic and terrified.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 2…)

Pacing within his room with nervousness, Jacob Lattimer wondered why he was so nervous in the first place. Was it the churning of his stomach due to a luxury and rich meal unaccustomed to his lifestyle? No, that can’t be it. A slight mild gastric indigestion was all that was.
Was it to the company he was keeping? No, can’t be that either. He had been in worse company before this evening was even in his mind. Loan sharks were an asset, of this the gambler knew for sure. They were to be feared, but also people to be revered as just doing their jobs to get money back from those in debts past a certain date. If anything, they were amicable people, as long as you paid back the money in time and with interest.
Jacob Lattimer was no ordinary gambler, on the surface it appeared he was a washed out loser but with a bit of luck and keeping his prospects of repayments in check, it was evident he was a bookie’s dream and a loan shark’s asset.
What worried Jacob Lattimer this evening was his real reason for coming here. He was not really Jacob Lattimer, merely an alias he used as a failsafe for if ever his schemes in book-keeping ever came to light. His real name was Jacob, at least that was true, but he was not really a Lattimer by blood. He had taken the moniker of Lattimer as it was his lover’s last name, essentially marrying into this rich and prestigious name that he immediately knew smelled of old money.
As to the envelope he had gotten, that was because his partner had received it but had no interest in the party promised and Jacob just took the chance at a moment’s notice.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 3…)

Alberta Lattimer was a frail thin woman with a weak constitution, her frailness a side effect of an incurable and inoperative disease. For all intents and purposes, the 45 year old woman should not be at a gathering like this, let alone a dinner party. But she tolerated the main courses, mostly having a bite of each course and felt guilty for her conditions getting in the way of appreciating the meals by barely having anything. But it was noticed by her that the servants did not seem to be bothered, let alone their host. The maid that served her merely treated it in stride with a serviceable smile as they did not cause a fuss over her or the amount left upon each plate. Her favourite course for the evening was the soup, though rich in texture, was the most pleasing to Alberta’s stomach and tastes that almost made her feel normal again for that thirty minute interval of the night.
Pushing aside the thoughts of earlier as she slowly made her way to the bed for a moment to catch her breathe, Alberta Lattimer gave a slight grimace as she popped open her small purse and took out her gastric medication for the night. As she sat upon her bed, Alberta gave a slight sigh to herself and swallowed two tablets prescribed for her health by her private physician.
‘Now, don’t you go overdosing on my account, Al,’ she recalled her physician jokingly saying to her with a slight chuckle.
Maybe not the best joke for the occasion but Alberta Lattimer just wryly smiled to herself at this memory, grateful she had the money to afford a young but sensible man like Doctor Stevens.
Putting her pill dosage back into her purse, Alberta placed it on the bedside nightstand beside her bed before getting herself ready for her medicinal nightcap before changing into a nightgown and falling asleep.

The last guest was a bit of a mystery, even despite being unnoticed around the dining room table that evening. That was fine, it suited them as the ambiguity of gender was commonplace for them. With a name being also gender erratic, they only knew themselves as Guye Lattimer. The age was ranging from 18 to 26, though the entity was a single person, of that they were sure. A gun was upholstered under the armpit, now taken off and thrown upon the bed with careless abandon. Smith and Weston was always their preferred favourite. They were just glad they did not need to use it, whom knows what goes on with family relationships.
The black envelope they had received was nowhere to be seen at a glance but was slightly peeking through the genderless headwear they wore that was upon the marble dresser. Glancing at themselves in the mirror, the body language and figure styled a more feminine physique for the time being. The blonde hair gracefully bobbed just below their chin with an almost seductive air if not for the scar they had that peeked out upon their neck. With a wily and almost feral smile upon their lips, Guye Lattimer raised their red gloved hand to the mirror image of themselves and brushed their hair back to reveal the scar’s starting point just below their collarbone. It was the only imperfection of their glorious body and haunted them daily, afraid to display their hideous mistake of the past. Only two people knew about the scar, themselves and the only person they were in love with. But, that was just ghosts of a different time. Guye Lattimer just wanted to look towards the future. Maybe being a bounty hunter for hire was not the most lucrative job out there but at least they liked it. And who knows? Maybe this family get together would be more fun over this weekend.

( to be continued…)

 

[SimonW]

( chapter 2, part 4…)


As the night wore on with the guests nightly habits and rituals to prepare for bed, the solitary disruption was unheard and unseen by those save for one. A flash of light burst from within one of the rooms. There was no detonation or sound of one, but one blast happened so quickly that the occupant of the room did not have a chance to utter a sound. Then, after a second, it was over and the door of the private bedroom opened silently. A figure dressed in a nightgown slipped away hurriedly back to their own room and shut their own door. There was no doubt it was on purpose, for otherwise the person would have raised the alarm that something had happened. But, that would have been foolish and they knew this all too well themselves.They just slipped into bed to go back to sleep soundly.


The dawn broke with a scream heard by the guests sleeping soundly in their beds. A few jolted awake by this sound, immediately identifying it as a woman’s scream as several of the guests rushed haphazardly into the hallway to find a maid looking terrified and collapsed upon the floor. A few were concerned she had hurt herself and rushed over to help.
Jerry and Kyle were the first to her side but she did not acknowledge them as the girl shook her head and pointed towards the open doorway she was outside of. It did not take long for the two men to glance within the doorway as to what had made the maid shriek out in terror. The bed was framed in the open doorway, scorch marks singeing the curtain draperies with the blackest marks upon the bed where a charred corpse lay within. It was evident to both men that this was the scene of a tragedy, a grisly end of one of their newly met relatives. Even with the burn marks upon their body, it was obvious whom it was that met this grisly fate, for the name was upon the door’s nameplate. This was the end of the life of Mrs. Emily Lattimer, the former housewife at the party.

( to be continued…)