The Hunting Of The Lattimer Party

( chapter 4, part 12…)

It was around four thirty as Mr. Jerry Lattimer had decided to visit Alfred Lattimer’s room, hoping the child had calmed down by now. He knocked twice upon the door and waited until the small voice of Alfred announced, “Come in!”
Jerry Lattimer bid as the voice suggested and opened the door of Alfred Lattimer before quietly entering the room.
The boy was alone, possibly having had a conversation with Miss Sidney Lattimer before she had left for her own room, at least that is what Jerry Lattimer assumed.
Alfred noticed it was Jerry and glanced down shamefully as he was sitting upon his bed.
“Do you have a moment to chat, Alfred?” Jerry asked the boy in a calm and even tone, not wishing to elevate the fears of the child.
Alfred just nodded and indicated the chair by the mirrored cabinet a few feet from his bed, inviting mutely that Jerry had permission to sit if he needed to.
Jerry shut the bedroom door behind him before accepting this invitation to sit down, his eyesight not leaving the boy’s for a moment.
“So, I may have a few questions for you, Alfred. I am sorry but it may be a sore topic to discuss. Firstly, why do you believe Terry killed Dorothy?”
Alfred Lattimer tensed at this question, lifting his tilted down head to look squarely at Jerry Lattimer.
“I don’t know. I was just…emotional is all,” murmured back Alfred sincerely as the tone still held an emotional break in his voice.
“Okay, that is fine. But I can guarantee that is not the case, Alfred. Terry did not kill her,” stated Jerry plainly.
“I know that now. Like I said, I was not thinking clearly. I’m sorry for the distress it caused him,” said Alfred Lattimer with regret evident in his voice and plainly displayed upon his face.
“So, now you have calmed down now, whom do you think did kill her?”
“It may be petty of me to say. But, there is a killer already in our group,” Alfred said almost forlornly with a hesitation in his voice.
“You mean Guye, right?” Jerry asked with shocked interest.
“Well, they do it for a living, right? I know it is horrible of me to say it like that, but…” trailed off Alfred meekly as he lost his confidence to speak.
“It’s okay, Alfred. You don’t have to say anymore about it if you don’t want to,” Jerry Lattimer said gently and stood up from the chair to leave.
He had reached the door of Alfred’s room and grasped the handle until the boy’s wavering voice spoke out to him.
“I just find it strange is all I can say.”
Jerry Lattimer turned to face the boy once more. “What’s strange, Alfred?”
“Well, just one thing. I find it strange that the gun used was Guye’s. After all, why take a gun you know belongs to a killer? I mean to say, you’d be scared of them if you found out they knew you used it, wouldn’t you?”
The boy’s logic seemed to make sense. Why would the killer use a gun, property of a known bounty hunter? To frame them, that was certain. But, then the killer would paint a target on their own backs. Jerry Lattimer nodded and left Alfred’s room, leaving the boy to think his thoughts.

Terry Lattimer-Davies had not calmed down. He was pacing his room in a frenzied state as he heard a knock upon his door.
“What do ya want?” Terry barked out in a fury, not caring whomever it was.
“Just me, checking upon you,” was the muffled reply of Jerry Lattimer from the other side of Terry’s bedroom door.
“Here to cart me away, Mr. Detective?” Terry asked contemptuously with undertones of snarky sarcasm.
“Not at all. Just a quick chat if it is okay with you, Terry,” responded Jerry Lattimer with ambiguity and even tone.
“Well, it ain’t. I did not kill nobody!”
“Very well. By the way, I believe you,” was the reply a few seconds after the outcry of rejection from Terry Lattimer-Davies.
Terry just sat fuming on his bed as he heard the footsteps of Jerry Lattimer leave his bedroom door upon the marbled hallway.
“What a prat,” Terry Lattimer-Davies said to himself as he picked up the fireplace poker next to him upon the bed and felt the weight of it in his hands.

The next port of call was Miss Sidney Lattimer’s room, which was not hard to find as it was neighbouring Jerry’s own bedroom.
She had her door wide open and was lounging herself upon her chair by the mirrored cabinet, apparently perusing a book within her hands. Jerry Lattimer did not interrupt her right away, glancing sideways from her doorway to see the title read Pride And Prejudice.
“ I never figured you a Classic lover, Sid,” he announced his presence abruptly as he turned his head upright.
Miss Sidney Lattimer seemed to jump lightly in shock and glanced up sharply, letting the book fall slightly but grasped by her fingertips whilst staying within her chair.
“Oh! Mr. Lattimer, it’s you. Yes, well, there is hardly much material aside from books in this house,” she had exclaimed as she realised that it was Mr. Jerry Lattimer at her doorway.
“You had best be careful. Open doorways are treacherous in this place,” he slightly cautioned and indicated with his right hand the open doorway to her room he was standing in.
“I just, well, I am fed up being careful. Murderers and killers scarcely frighten me anymore,” Sid stated wryly, her attitude that of a fed up woman eager to just get on in life.
“So, you admit it, then?” queried Jerry Lattimer calmly.
“Admit to….what?” Sidney Lattimer seemed baffled by this question poised at her.
“Admit to defeat at the hands of this killer. Obviously, I felt the same way,” Jerry said with an uncanny sense of defeatism in his tone that Miss Sidney Lattimer had not heard from him before.
She laughed dryly slightly and shook her head at Jerry Lattimer before replying to his own quizzical look.
“Oh, heavens, no. I just find it thrilling, in a way. Honestly, there is no reason for being afraid. I know the killer would not go for me.”
“And why is that, Sid?” Jerry Lattimer asked with genuine interest.
“For one reason and one reason only. I know whom they are,” she responded with calm efficiency.
“I noticed you use the term “they”. Are you referring that you think it is Guye, then?” Jerry Lattimer questioned seriously.
“Well, it was their gun, wasn’t it? And I hardly think a person like that would leave their gun unattended, right? It just makes the most logical sense,” she responded just as seriously.
“That will be all. Thank you, Sid,” replied Mr. Jerry Lattimer before taking his leave of her doorway and continued down the hallway.
Sidney Lattimer just shook her head and went back to reading her novel, incredulously stumped at what went on in that man’s head sometimes.

Lady Constance Lattimer also had her bedroom door wide open, but it was evident that it was not for the same reason Miss Sidney Lattimer had hers open. Gerard the head butler was still within her room, standing stiffly at attention to her side. It became apparent to Mr. Jerry Lattimer that her lady ship did not want any rumours of unsavoury goings on to be whispered within the household or guests.
“May I enter, Lady Constance?” Jerry asked politely, feeling the need for proper decorum was in order here.
And he assumed correctly as Lady Constance was within her bed chamber applying what looked to be foundation to her face as she non-verbally glanced over at him with half interest before lightly bowing her head in permission.
Jerry entered the room with tender feet as he deemed it necessary to not traverse far into the boudoir of a lady’s bedroom, especially as the lady in question was occupying said bedroom.
“Well, what is it you want?” Lady Constance Lattimer asked after several seconds of tense silence passed between the two of them.
“I would just like your opinion upon the matter,” plainly stated Jerry Lattimer.
Lady Constance Lattimer seemed to slightly scoff in response, applying more make up foundation onto her dry skin as the fifty year old socialite seemed to ignore Jerry Lattimer’s words to her. She gazed back at him from her mirror, letting her sharp eyes glare slightly.
“Not that it matters, but I have nothing at all to say. It was that uncouth blood tradesman or woman, whatever they are. I do not run in with…that circle of “people”,” she stated with nothing but contempt.
Mr Jerry Lattimer held back his tongue, not wishing to inquire further on the topic of whatever “that people” actually was in Lady Constance’s eyes.
“ I shall not trouble you further, Lady Constance. Oh, just a follow up question, Gerard. Now, as I understand it, the staff are not allowed to interfere with the hunt in any way, correct?” Jerry Lattimer asked as his attention was drawn to the head butler.
“That is indeed correct, sir. The household of staff is not allowed to interfere with anything pertaining to a hunt, sir,” Gerard answered stoically with proper diction.
“And that includes the killer? I just want to know for verification,” Jerry asked simply.
“All guests are to be treated as such, sir. Including the killer,” briskly replied the head manservant without hesitation.
“Well, that shall be all. Thank you both for your time,” Mr. Jerry Lattimer said before he left the room.

Jerry Lattimer knocked upon the door of Jacob Lattimer. He heard a slight expletive before the rustling of what appeared to be papers. A brief moment of silence was heard before the door opened and there stood Jacob Lattimer, looking slightly disheveled and slightly out of breath.
“Caught you at a bad time?” Jerry bemusedly asked with a grin on his face.
“Not really. Just checking local sports gossip. You know how it is,” Jacob replied back with a grin of his own but the grin seemed false to Jerry.
“I just wanted to see how you were holding up and what you think of all this current murder,” remarked Jerry Lattimer candidly.
“Well, to be honest, I did find it all rather grim. I just hate to see a boy like that, you know? I don’t blame the kid, but at his age, killing that old lady? Boy, that’s a hum dinger and no mistake,” responded Jacob Lattimer with false sincerity.

( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 4, part 13…)

“So, you think Terry did it?” asked incredulously Jerry Lattimer.
“No, not him. The other kid,” responded Jacob Lattimer with a wolfish grin.
“You mean Alfred?” Jerry Lattimer asked, his mind bowled over by this accusation.
“It all depends on psychology if you think about it. We all witnessed the kid as he gave that outburst. And those crocodile tears upon that girl’s skirt did not fool me for a second,” stated Jacob Lattimer.
“Well, taking that gun from a bounty hunter was a gutsy move,” remarked Jerry Lattimer.
“So, that’s what that woman was? I never would have guessed. But it seems to make sense, a kid like that would not have thought it through like that. Besides, a gun is a simple way to kill someone. Easy for the kid to do. He may even have gained the old lady’s trust in order to kill her. You know, I guarantee it,” Jacob Lattimer said coldly but methodically and crossed his arms over his chest as if to prove the point.
Jerry Lattimer remained quiet for a few seconds whilst gazing at Jacob Lattimer. He knew that Alfred being the killer was absurd but could not let this man know it. He merely raised his right hand to his chin in thought, but did it deliberately to ease the gambler’s mind. He noticed the slight slump of Jacob Lattimer’s shoulders in ease, meaning he took the bait. Now, to follow through.
“It makes some sense, I grant you. I’ll have to think it over. Thank you, Jacob,” he boldly stated as he let his arm drop.
“Anytime, Detective,” Jacob said jovially, whilst watching as Jerry Lattimer turned away from his doorway and walked away.


Guye Lattimer was not visited by Jerry Lattimer, as Jerry felt he had gotten all he needed from Guye’s previous testimony and the search of their room earlier.
But Jerry Lattimer was surprised to see Guye in his own room and sitting upon Jerry’s bed in their usual attire but with a wry grin upon their face.
“Well? Need I be worried?” they asked Jerry Lattimer calmly.
“Worried? About what?” the question received was one deflected by another.
“I see. So, no news on the thief whom stole my gun, then?” Guye asked in a slightly exasperated manner.
Jerry Lattimer did not answer, merely moving towards his own bed and sat by the bounty hunter whilst gently embracing their hand with his.
“No news on that front, either. I am sorry to say that this case may never be solved. But…” he left the sentence lingering as he outwardly sighed in fear.
“But?” Prompted the bounty hunter gently, the feminine undertones more present in that moment.
Mr. Jerry Lattimer glanced at them, the situation more unbearable by his look of sadness in his eyes.
“But only if you wish to confess it to me,” he muttered delicately, uttering words he did not wish to say but felt he could not hold them back.
Jerry felt the delicate hand slip away as the bounty hunter rose up from their sitting position.
“You know I can’t do that, Jerry,” they announced as the other hand held up their gun to point it at Jerry’s heart. “How did you figure it out?”
“It was obvious, Guye. You did not do the killing yourself, you had ordered Gerard the butler to do it for you. Butlers, after all, are at the behest of guests requests. The staff are incapable of interfering with the murders, but nobody thought of asking if they were permitted to help in them either. You planned it and Gerard did it, simple as that. He may have been your alibi, but only because you ordered him to be before you set your plan in action. There were only two flaws as I could see. Number one was your calmness after having found your gun missing. You would have been more emotionally fuelled to kill whomever took it from you, unless of course, that was part of the plan in the first place,” solemnly declared Jerry Lattimer.
“And the second mistake?” they asked, gently pulling back the safety catch of their gun.
“What you are about to do right now,” Jerry Lattimer said plainly.
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Guye Lattimer stated coldly and pulled the trigger of their gun.
BANG! The gunshot was clean, the body of Jerry Lattimer falling back onto his now bloodied bed as the bounty hunter coldly and collectively left Mr. Jerry Lattimer’s room without remorse.

End Of Chapter 4.

( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 5, part 1…)


Chapter Five: The Theory Of Three…

It was barely past five o’clock as the shot resonates within the upstairs hallway for the second time that afternoon. Guye Lattimer accounted for a hasty response, the bounty hunter setting themselves in a slightly worked up state of panic stricken fury and flushed complexion upon their face.
“What is it? What happened to Jerry?” they heard from behind them as the lithe figure of Miss Sidney Lattimer had been the first to come upon the grisly scene, her open room being literally next door to the now dead body of Mr. Jerry Lattimer.
“He…he..he’s gone,” muttered the shocked response from Guye Lattimer, hamming it up as the smoking revolver dropped from their trembling hand.
By this point, the other survivors had appeared at the open doorway of Jerry Lattimer, aghast at the grisly scene in front of them.
“Well, guess it was his time after all,” muttered Terry Lattimer-Davies in mild shock and spurted the first thing on his mind.
The other guests glanced incredulously at the troubled teen, whom seemed to get out of his vague state of mind to see them staring at him.
“Oh, come on! You all know I didn’t do it! That bounty guy there was here, right?” exasperated Terry towards the accusatory glances he was getting.
Nobody seemed to respond to the teenager’s outburst, but as a collective turned their heads to avoid his eye contact as they knew he was right.
“What exactly happened here, Guye?” asked Jacob Lattimer slowly, his instinct to gather the facts at his disposal.
“He admitted to killing Mrs. Dorothy out of guilt. He asked me to kill him, for justice. I only did what he asked of me,” stated a distant toned voice of Guye Lattimer, the bounty hunter dramatically shaking their body lightly to pass the act over as one with no choice in a matter they could not control.
This act seemed to fool everyone, whom were slowly nodding their heads gravely at this revealed “truth”. Only Alfred Lattimer looked slightly sceptical with a face of confusion, but soon his face changed to that of saddened realisation that everyone in this family could potentially be killers and nodded his grim face with the rest of them.
Guye Lattimer would have smirked at this excellent deception but decided to keep up the facade, the ruthless killer having a look of saddened melancholy etched deeply upon their face.
‘And we are down another share in the family pot,’ cunningly thought Guye Lattimer to themselves whilst allowing their body to slump away from the dead body and lean against the wall.
It was at this moment the guests heard a gong chime resonating throughout the Manor and Gerard stiffly announced, “Dinner is prepared. Please go to the Dining Room at your earliest convenience.”


( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 5, part 2…)

The gong and announcement seemed to snap the other guests out of their state of sad affairs, possibly a happy coincidence for Guye Lattimer, whom had killed twice already. It was the perfect distraction, not allowing the others to fully process the grieving period or thought process and just go out single file to the hallway and eventually down the stairway towards the Dining Room.
The solemn expression was evident upon the faces of those gathered as they automatically took their seats around the black marble table.
Their host, Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer, was already present and sitting in his usual head placement at the dining table.
“I have just heard the news. I must cordially congratulate Guye Lattimer for dispensing justice,” Henry Carmichael Lattimer stated gravely, but replaced his stern conservative glance with a respectful bow of his head towards the bounty hunter.
Guye Lattimer was not stupid, they assumed Gerard had told his master everything. But, they kept up the preface and lightly tipped their hat in the direction of Henry Carmichael Lattimer.
“Happy to oblige, justice had to be done,” they responded in an equally cordial manner.
This was evidently noticed to nobody but the two hunters around the table, each one congratulating silently upon the success of catching their prey. One at having killed without getting caught and the other knowing the truth of the matter.
“Now, Dinner is served,” suddenly announced Henry Carmichael Lattimer and gently clapped his hands as an order, as if no tone shift was ever changed in this party-like atmosphere.
The maids and manservants came out, now as individuals that had a steaming dish plate with what the guests was a fish course in their hands. One by one, the guests were presented a grilled mackerel fillet that also had steamed vegetables of kale, edible seaweed and some mushed up peas. There were some traditional fried potato chips, lightly wrapped in a container cup of newspaper, served with a small porcelain mug of mustard vinegar to be served on top of the fish if wanted.
The guests just glanced at the fish and chips dish served to them. Begrudgingly, they began to slowly partake what was offered, their English mindset to carry on with a stiff upper lip.
There was no pleasantries as the Lattimers ate in silence, even Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer ate his meal without disrupting the table with insincere conversation. The clock kept ticking past the half hour, just giving a chime upon the dot of five thirty as the only change in the room.

As the dinner was finished, the guests demurely set aside their used cutlery and sat back in silence as the maids and manservants took away their empty plates from the table.
Drinks were poured, even that seemed a somber moment, the guests with alcoholic beverages guzzling them down with gusto. Pleasentries be darned at the need for liquid courage to get them through this evening.
“I find this all too pleasing,” suddenly announced Mr. Jacob Lattimer, as he beheld his empty crystal goblet in his right hand lazily.
The other guests just glanced at the gambler with baffling looks of confusion. The unpredictable statement had just left them unable to reply, but this did not stop his flow of speech regardless.
“Oh, don’t mind me. I just fancy talking, that is all,” he stated as he got himself up from his chair and paced slowly around the large black marble table. “Let me educate you all on something. Does anybody here know The Theory Of Three?”
Jacob Lattimer glanced around the table as he stopped at the other end of the table, halfway leaning upon the back of the chair there. His question was not answered in either the positive or negative, just blank stares of incredulous curiosity.
“No? Let me educate you all, then,” he said after a moment of silence. “The Theory Of Three is commonly referred in investigative circles, lesser known in my field as “Gambler’s Gambit”. It poses a logical dilemma where there are three girls, all different, but one of them is a murderess. Now, one has no knowledge which of the three is a killer. One must make an educated guess. The answer,” Jacob Lattimer paused as a maid refilled his glass with red wine and he chuckled lightly in mirth before draining the goblet once more. “Now, the answer is simple. Two girls are actual killers. You gamble on the bet that if calculating odds at a third of being right, chances are it is actually a fifty percent guess. Now, I tell you, is that a lark or what?”
Mr. Jacob Lattimer chuckled once more, unnerving the rest of the gathered party as he took back the chair he was leaning against and plopped himself in it with not a care in the world.
“So, in order for society to be governed by its own rules, it has to be played unfairly?” Alfred Lattimer timidly asked, trying to grasp his head around what Jacob Lattimer had just said.
In response, Jacob Lattimer’s grin on his face just widened as he focused his eyes on Alfred Lattimer as the child spoke.
“Exactly! That is exactly my point. If you still have a fifty percent chance of bringing a killer to justice, the other twenty-five percent of condemning an innocent girl to prison is meaningless. I just know my mind baffles even me sometimes, but it is true. We live in an unjust world, only governed by the rules of the corrupt,” plainly said Jacob Lattimer almost mournfully but raised his empty goblet in appreciation at Alfred Lattimer’s keen insight.
At this motion, it was hurriedly refilled by the maid whom was still holding the red wine decanter demurely in her hands.
“I understand your sentiment, Jacob. But really, must one bring in politics at a time like this?” reproached Lady Constance Lattimer whilst side-eyeing the uncouth man drain his glass for a third time of red wine.
“Sorry if I had the misfortune to offend, Lady Lattimer,” unceremoniously expressed Jacob Lattimer whilst jokingly waving his left hand in a discourteous gesture of a hand bow.
Lady Constance Lattimer scoffed and looked affronted but paid him no mind.


( to be continued…)
 
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That is indeed a long-known dilemma: punish the wicked, or protect the innocent?

If it's an inescapable either-or, my vote is to protect the innocent.
 
Copperfox said:
That is indeed a long-known dilemma: punish the wicked, or protect the innocent?

If it's an inescapable either-or, my vote is to protect the innocent.
Click to expand...

I agree with the moral concept, Copperfox, but I think you missed the point. There are instances where morally you think you are doing the right thing but what in the sliver of that chance you choose the innocent to punish by no fault of yours or others? The only thing you can do is hope a judgement could be made to rectify this mistake. It is a coin flip, either way, as you say. And that is why it is a gamble.
 
Copperfox said:
Well expounded; I was going on a tangent.
Click to expand...

No worries, mate. We all do get sidetracked from time to time. 😀


( chapter 5, part 3…)

“I hardly think politics apply as far as I am concerned,” hurriedly declared Miss Sidney Lattimer. “I mean, until you brought it up unintentionally, Lady Lattimer.”
The twenty-two year old girl deferred to Lady Constance Lattimer with a small bow of her head sincerely, which seemed to curry the favour of Lady Lattimer for the moment at the ridiculous affront she had just witnessed from Jacob Lattimer.
Guye Lattimer just stayed silent as the chitter chatter around the table continued, not paying their relatives any mind. It was nothing to get a fuss over.
“I just wish there was more honesty at this table,” remarked dryly Terry Lattimer-Davies, the teenaged youth bearing a scowl of contempt upon his face.
“Now, that, there, that’s a laugh and a half!” interjected abruptly Jacob Lattimer.
“Well, since you are so chipper, would you kindly tell us whom you really are, then?” suddenly piped up Alfred Lattimer, his curious voice shocking the table into sudden stillness.
All eyes seemed to gaze at the ten year old boy as he had asked this question to Mr. Jacob Lattimer. Sudden tension ceased as the bubble was burst, the looks of confusion glancing back to Jacob Lattimer as the smile upon his once jovial face had fallen and an ashen crestfallen frown suddenly ripped the mask away upon his visage.
“Jacob? What does Alfred mean?” Sid Lattimer asked in a voice of confused concern simply.
“Seems the cat is out of the bag now. Best I come clean,” muttered Jacob Lattimer as melancholy flashed in his mind, hanging his head down in shame. “I am not a true Lattimer. I married into the family. My wife, Pauline, was unable to attend. I took her place for the weekend.”
This explanation at the revealing truth seemed to satisfy most present. All but one, that was.
“So, you come here under false pretences to see if you could get her inheritance, right?” came the soft spoken comment by Guye Lattimer, a small smile crossing their lips.
Jacob Lattimer nodded slowly, not bearing to glance their way for fear of the bounty hunter’s retribution. “But, I have nothing to gain from telling you all this. Well, just to save my skin. Nobody in the family would begrudge me for trying, right? I mean, I am married by law, not blood. I gain nothing of the inheritance from this blood sport weekend.”
It was obvious to those sitting around the table that what Mr. Jacob Lattimer said, though cowardly as it was, was technically true. He would gain nothing from these hunts as he would not gain anything by blood relations.
“The way I see it, you can trust that Mr. Jacob would be at best a “bystander” in the affairs of House Lattimer. He is still my guest and will be treated as such,” broodingly declared Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer as he stood up from the head seat at the far end of the marble table. “This is all I will say upon the matter. Now, excuse me. I wish to retire for the evening.”
Mr. Henry Carmichael Lattimer had said his peace and bowed briefly before marching his way out of the Dining Room towards his bedchamber.
After their host had left, the table was abuzz of murmured whispers and slightly agitated activity.
“How did you know Jacob was not whom he appeared to be?” asked Sid Lattimer in a hushed tone to Alfred, who was sitting next to her right hand side.
“I saw his black envelope upon his dresser earlier as I mistakenly entered his room. It was addressed to a Mrs. Pauline Lattimer,” cheekily replied Alfred Lattimer, a wry and mischievous grin upon the ten year old’s face.

( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 5, part 4…)


The muttering of hushed tones seemed to die down as the remaining six of the Lattimer Party became silent around the black marble table once more. It seemed a dark yet invisible aura surrounded the surviving members like a bad omen. The one whom broke this tense moment was not one of the guests, but Gerard the head butler of Lattimer Manor.
“If you would be so kind, ladies and gentlemen. After dinner drinks and cigars have been prepared in the Parlour Lounge at your leisure,” Gerard announced gently to the seated guests.
“Well, never one to turn away free drinks. Shall we depart, fellow hunters?” asked openly to invitation Mr. Jacob Lattimer in a joking manner.
“I have no desire to be anywhere with you and your bad taste in jokes,” Lady Constance Lattimer said openly and plainly with disfavour.
“Truthfully, I could use a nightcap and cigar before bed,” stated Guye Lattimer, brushing aside the open protests of Lady Lattimer.
“Will you be alright if I join you?” Terry Lattimer-Davies asked of Guye and Jacob.
“Don’t see why not. Just be mindful of the smoke,” replied Jacob Lattimer with a half-hearted chuckle escaping his lips.
Guye Lattimer just shrugged, seeming to not care in the slightest before the three of them left the Dining Room towards the Parlour Lounge.
The two women stayed sitting within their seats as Alfred Lattimer got up from his own, the scraping of the wooden chair ever present in the Dining Room.
“I am off to bed. I wish you goodnight, ladies,” he explained to the two women that glanced over to his sudden rising from his seat.
With a light bow of pleasantry and manners, Alfred Lattimer took his leave from the Dining Room, leaving the last of the Lattimer Party within the Dining Room. The two women did not say anything to each other, the clock in the Dining Room chiming it had just gone past six thirty that evening.

The three people were lavishing comfortably in the Parlour Lounge and had partaken a quarter of port between them whilst smoking their first cigar, savouring the lush brand of Cubans with relish.
Terry Lattimer-Davies had coughed slightly but with the help and support of the other two occupants of the room had eased himself to cut back on his cigar inhalation. In all honesty, Jacob Lattimer seemed to take care of Terry like an Uncle would when making an example of an overzealous nephew that wanted to grow up too fast. He made sure to water down the quarter cup of port with some extra ice and a mixer of mineral water. The cigar he made sure to cut at least a third off before handing it to the teenager and lighting it up for him.
Guye Lattimer just stayed silent, smoking the cigar gingerly as they observed this somewhat comical scene from their seat.
“There is nothing, and I mean nothing, like a cigar after a meal,” Jacob Lattimer announced as he lit his own cigar and taking a few enthusiastic puffs.
The other two just nodded in agreement, not wishing to spoil the moment with unnecessary chatting. Jacob Lattimer just took the hint and sat in another seat across from Guye Lattimer. Terry Lattimer-Davies just stood with his mini glass of iced port in one hand and his one third cigar in the other.


( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 5, part 5…)


The three gentlemen were still within the Parlour Lounge as the clocks inside Lattimer Manor chimed at half past seven.
The two women had stayed conversing curtly within the Dining Room, whilst Alfred Lattimer was silently reading a book to himself in his bed.
But, all was not as it should have been. For one thing, the fireplace poker Terry Lattimer-Davies had stashed in his room was no longer there. It wasn’t until it was too late that Alfred Lattimer glanced up and was violently beaten over and over again with the heavy weapon, his dying cries barely audible in the silence of the house, the clocks having just stopped chiming.
The hunter had struck once more, but timing was of the essence as they heaved the unconscious body of Terry Lattimer-Davies up to the crime scene and placed the bloody poker within his left hand. Satisfied with this, they smeared some of the blood from the corpse at an angle on Terry’s clothes as if from blood splattering upon Terry in the frenzied attack. Discarding their gloves in their own fireplace until they were cinders, they crept back downstairs to establish the alibi they would need later.

It was an odd occurrence to Miss Sidney Lattimer to be shaken awake by Gerard, evidently she had been asleep for some time. The clock in the Dining Room showed it was now nearing seven fifty five. Last she recalled, it was seven thirty when she apparently dozed off.
Lady Constance Lattimer looked put out, having also been roused awake a minute or two ago from the elderly butler.
“I am dreadfully sorry to awaken you, Miss. But there seems to have been another…incident,” slightly hesitated Gerard as he noticed Miss Sidney Lattimer had regained her full senses.
“Whom was it?” Sid asked simply, the news not as much a shock to her anymore as getting jostled awake had.
“I am sorry to say, young Master Alfred Lattimer,” candidly announced Gerard with sincere solemness.
This seemed to be what awoke Sid Lattimer fully, as she hastily got up from her chair in disbelief.
“Where? Where is he?” she cried out in full panic, the words almost caught in her throat with worry.
“His bedroom, Miss. But…” started Gerard but it was all Sid Lattimer needed as she ran swiftly from the Dining Room, running towards the staircase without letting Gerard continue.
Bursting into the room of Alfred Lattimer with a whirlwind of worry and strength she did not know she possessed, Sid Lattimer stood stock still at the abrupt scene before her. Shock and horror filled her mind at seeing the young boy beaten to death, his skull smashed in with bone and blood indistinguishable to seperate. Sid just collapsed sobbing uncontrollably, her mind shutting down into only crying whimpers.
‘He was like a younger brother to me,’ was all she could think to herself as the tears kept flowing.
She was so distraught that she did not even notice the unconscious body of Terry Lattimer-Davies upon the floor nearby, her focus just drawn to the remains of Alfred Lattimer laying within his bed, the blood soaked linen and book he had been reading at his death.
Sidney Lattimer only roused herself from her devastated stupor as she heard footsteps behind her approaching from the hallway.

( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 5, part 6…)

The rest of the Lattimer Party had appeared at the doorway to Alfred Lattimer’s bedroom.
The discontented quiet was almost unbearable, not a sound to be heard except for the crying of Miss Sidney Lattimer.
Then, the stirring of movement, which shocked the attention of Miss Sidney Lattimer. Terry Lattimer-Davies was coming round, albeit slightly groggy in his awakening.
At first, the teenager did not know where he was, confusion setting in as he lifted his hand with the fire poker unknowingly within his left hand. It was not until he felt the heavy object within his grasp did Terry open his eyes and glance around the area he was in.
“What the bejeebus is going on here?” Terry Lattimer-Davies asked, seemingly baffled and confused.
“Master Alfred Lattimer is dead, Master Terry,” filled in Gerard from the doorway pensively.
“And it looks like you did it,” commented Guye Lattimer casually, indicating with their eyes towards the bloodied poker in Terry Lattimer-Davies hand.
“I for one, do not need to investigate. We caught the culprit in the act!” vehemently declared Lady Constance Lattimer.
Terry Lattimer-Davies still looked misty-eyed, not able to take it all in the moment. He glanced at the unsure faces of Guye Lattimer and Jacob Lattimer.
“I don’t know about that. It just seems…too simple,” spoke up Jacob Lattimer, his outward sigh betraying his outward appearance of confidence.
Guye Lattimer seemed to nod their own head also. “I agree with Jacob. Something just does not sit right with me here.”
“Like what? He practically has the murder weapon in his hands, the boy’s blood all over him. I still say he did it!” Lady Constance Lattimer said with righteous conviction in her voice.
“Just a feeling I got, a hunch. Miss Lattimer, are you alright?” asked Guye Lattimer with a touch of concern in their voice.
Miss Sidney Lattimer had stopped crying, her body language that of a rag doll as her body slumped forward. Gerard the butler rushed to her side to provide aide as Miss Sidney Lattimer had fainted out of shock from seeing the aftermath of the brutal crime.

Lady Constance Lattimer and Jacob Lattimer automatically went towards the fainted woman with concern upon their faces as Guye Lattimer merely entered and stood beside Terry Lattimer-Davies as Miss Sidney Lattimer was hefted by Jacob and Gerard to get her out of Alfred Lattimer’s bedroom.
The three helpers got her out of the room and placed her upon her own bed down the hallway, confident that Guye Lattimer had the crime scene well in attendance whilst keeping a watch upon the prime suspect.
The bounty hunter idly flicked their Smith and Wesson revolver’s cartridge wheel whilst awaiting the return of the others, eager it seems to get the investigation underway.
“You had better say your prayers, kid. It don’t look too good for you,” Guye stated with a serious countenance upon their face before snapping back the cartridge in place of their gun.
Guye Lattimer pointed their gun directly at the sixteen year old’s face from the few feet they were situated and simulated a silent bang sound and recoil before smirking and placing the gun back into their holster.
Terry was understandably terrified, but behind that was a contemptible sneer in the teen’s mind. He was outwardly concerned about the bounty hunter but was also confident that he had nothing to be frightened of since he was innocent of this crime.

( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 5, part 7…)

It was a general agreement between Gerard, Jacob Lattimer and Lady Constance Lattimer to allow Gerard to stand guard over the still unconscious Miss Sidney Lattimer. The two family members came back in less than three minutes to the latest crime scene.
Without much thought, the bounty hunter and teenager glanced towards the open doorway as the other two came back from Sidney Lattimer’s room.
“So, Terry, where shall we begin?” Jacob Lattimer asked, a short smile betraying his innermost thoughts.
Lady Constance Lattimer mildly scoffed before Terry responded but held her tongue, though she had obviously no interest in what the sixteen year old killer had to say.
“I dunno what to tell you. I just remember we three were in the Lounge, enjoying some alcohol and cigars,” he just said simply in response, shrugging his shoulders as he gazed up at the judgemental faces of his peers and elders.
“Well, at least that is the truth,” mused Guye Lattimer with Jacob nodding along with Terry’s statement.
“You let this boy drink?!” exclaimed Lady Lattimer, unable to hold back her tongue any further.
“Hey, what can we say? We are not his parents. Besides, it seemed like the perfect time to let loose with all that was happening,” meekly stated Jacob Lattimer as he was well and fully abashed by Lady Lattimer’s glare.
“And then what happened, Terry?” quickly asked Guye Lattimer, eager to get the facts fully in haste lest the bounty hunter and present company included would get an ear thrashing from Lady Lattimer further.
“I recall the clock chimed seven thirty, then it all gets rather hazy,” Terry Lattimer-Davies said, his face one of concentration at trying to recall his memories.
“That’s the booze for ya, eh?” Jacob Lattimer said with a grin still upon his lips.
“Not really. I seem to recall feeling drowsy around that time myself too,” Guye Lattimer said with a thoughtful look upon their face.
“Apparently, so did I,” Lady Lattimer admitted in present company. “But I was with Miss Sidney in the Dining Room. Gerard had to shake us awake.”
“Yes, funny thing that. I was feeling sleepy myself with Guye and Terry in the Parlour Lounge. I just assumed it was the port,” stated Jacob Lattimer in reflection, looking puzzled himself in confusion.
“Can we safely assume, then, that I am not the culprit?” Terry asked with a bored tone as he fervently dropped the bloodied fire poker from his hand and stood up.
“We can’t determine that. Goodness, for all we know, you could have faked all this being at the crime scene to cover your own tracks,” said Guye Lattimer with a slight smirk.
“If that were the case, why would I stay here and not come back to the Lounge, genius?” Terry retorted, his temper flaring up and seemed brash with the bounty hunter.
“Obviously, to not draw attention to your blood stained clothes. You could hardly explain those when you “woke up” with Jacob and I,” the bounty hunter pointed out, indicating the blood stains upon Terry’s clothes.
“We are just going in circles at this point. Would someone kindly calm down, please?” came a soft spoken voice from the doorway.
The four of them turned at the sound of the voice and noticed a slightly pale yet determined Sid Lattimer standing in the doorway, apparently having woken up under the care of Gerard. The elderly butler was behind Miss Lattimer, ready to catch her in case she was going to have another case of the faints.
With heavy breaths, Sid Lattimer wandered into the room and let herself collapse within the chair nearby.
“Miss Lattimer, are you sure you are well enough to be here?” asked Lady Lattimer with a twinge of concern for the young woman.
“Yes, I am quite alright now, thank you, Lady Lattimer. I wish to be here, for Alfred,” she responded tenderly, covering her mouth as tears swelled up within her eyes.
But as if expecting the tears to overflow, the four gathered in the room watched as Sid Lattimer seemed to sit up straight within the chair and resolutely held the tears back, placing her hands demurely within her lap.

( to be continued…)
 
( chapter 5, part 8…)

“I have heard all you have discussed. I admit that I too was drowsy by seven thirty and recall nothing up until Gerard shook me awake at seven fifty five. So, we have a liar in our group,” bluntly stated Sid Lattimer, her face one of intense concentration.
“Well, despite how it looks, I still suspect this young uncouth teen of the crime,” Lady Constance Lattimer said with a look of disdain towards Terry Lattimer-Davies.
“This “teen” has a name and I’m standing right here! I didn’t do it!” heatedly announced Terry in reply to Lady Lattimer’s statement.
Guye Lattimer stayed out of the argument as Jacob Lattimer glanced between the two heated individuals, also not wanting to get entangled within the drama.
“As I have no doubt, I want no quarrels as we try to solve this murder. Understood?” snapped Sid Lattimer, cutting through the row between Lady Lattimer and Terry Lattimer-Davies.
The two stopped as the usually quiet demeanour of Miss Sidney Lattimer snubbed the two of them into being quiet and glanced over at her with momentary silence.
“Thank you. Now, is there anything that could provide us with evidence?” Sidney Lattimer asked in a more calm manner, attempting her best to imitate Jerry Lattimer’s tone of voice when he was investigating.
She was met with shakes of the heads from the other four, obviously they were all at a loss on how to continue further. Then, Sid Lattimer knew she had to be brave as she came to a realisation. She would have to examine the body of Albert Lattimer.
As much as she steeled her resolve, Sidney Lattimer blanched a pale white in her face at the mere thought of it. Then, she recalled that she was not the only one in the room. Her eyes wandered over to Guye Lattimer, the bounty hunter beheld a grim look of hardness, almost looking masculine in countenance at her searching gaze.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Guye Lattimer suddenly asked, crossing their arms across their chest.
“I need a favour, if you could,” Sid Lattimer beseeched with as much kindness she could in the situation.
Guye Lattimer seemed to sigh slightly, their shoulders dropping as they uncrossed their arms from their chest.
“Fine. What do you need?” the bounty hunter asked in defeated exasperation.
“Could you check the body for me? It’s just…just…” Sidney Lattimer seemed to struggle with the request but stopped speaking as she could not finish her sentence from tears welling up in her eyes again.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it,” hastily stated Guye Lattimer, already moving over to the bed where the dead body of the ten year old laid in eternally bloody repose.

(to be continued…)
 
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(chapter 5, part 9…)

It was devastatingly hard as Sid Lattimer waited with bated breath at the grisly examination of Alfred Lattimer’s body.
She turned her head away subtly and got up from the chair to distance herself from the bed as Guye Lattimer started their investigation of the corpse.
It felt like an eternity but was at most less than seven minutes as the bounty hunter came back with their report, careful not to allow the others to bear witness to the scene or their slightly bloody hands as it was impossible to conduct even a simple search without getting it upon them.
“Well, I gather he was hit pretty hard on the right side of the head, that is pretty much obvious. There were no signs of defensive wounds, as he was struck rather quickly. I do not think there was any trauma internally, as the death was quick. I can’t say for certain, but no other marks show any sign of abuse, physical or otherwise,” Guye Lattimer reported darkly and seriously. “But, that is beside the point. Whomever did it was fast, brutal and had no remorse killing the child.”
The hard edge to the bounty hunter’s voice betrayed trying to remain emotionless. They showed signs of fury, possibly empathy and disgust at this brutal crime against young Alfred.
“Still, seems rather convenient that Terry here was the one on the scene,” mused Jacob Lattimer aloud, but shied away at the glare he got from the hot-tempered teenager.
“How could I? I tell you, I am right handed! And yet, that,” Terry hurriedly pointed to the fireplace poker he discarded, “That thing I had in my left hand when I was found by the body! That boy was killed by blows on his right temple! I am NOT the killer!” Terry vehemently defended, his teenage cries of innocence thundering to the heavens.
“We only have your word for it,” pointed out Lady Lattimer, which only seemed to infuriate the sixteen year old further.
“I give up, there is no sense talking to socialistic prats,” muttered Terry Lattimer-Davies as he grumpily broke away from the group of adults and sat down upon the chair Sidney Lattimer had sat in moments ago.


( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 5, part 10…)

“Friends and relatives, let us not squabble. It is obvious what is going on here. I mean, we have had an admitted killer already, right Guye?” Jacob Lattimer boldly declared in a theatrical fashion, lightly smiling in the face of adversity.
“What do you mean by that remark?” Guye Lattimer coldly asked, the bounty hunter’s eyes narrowing at the question Jacob had put forth.
“Nothing sinister in the slightest, I assure you. I just meant, with Jerry and all that. He did admit it, right?” the nervous tension surrounded Jacob Lattimer as the three other family members glanced at the bounty hunter quickly.
“Guye? What does he mean by that?” hastily asked Sid Lattimer, a mixture of confusion on her worried face. “We know for sure Jerry asked you to let his sins be known, right?”
“Yes, that is all I meant,” interjected Jacob Lattimer half heartedly with a worried smile upon his face.
But, the cold stare of the bounty hunter did not leave the eyesight of Jacob Lattimer for a second.
‘He knows. I don’t know how, but he knows I killed Jerry in cold blood,’ thought Guye Lattimer, a sickening taste of blood reaching from the bounty hunter’s hands through their nose and leaving a bitter and rotten taste in the back of their mouth.
“If you are trying to pin this crime on me, it won’t wash,” Guye Lattimer warned, the direction of their gaze transfixed solely on Jacob Lattimer.
The other three guests still seemed confused as Jacob Lattimer merely chuckled in response, which was hardly appropriate at the moment in the current circumstances.
“I am not pinning you with anything. Just a reminder of facts is all,” brushed aside Jacob Lattimer, looking cold as a cucumber.
On the inside, Jacob knew he was playing a dangerous game. If Guye would not play the game as he intended, Jacob would have to cut his losses and drop the bounty hunter. This was a dangerous game of cat and mouse and Jacob would lay it all on the table to win.
But, what the two were unaware of was the other three players in the game. Sidney Lattimer deftly grabbed Guye’s gun from the holster and held the two of them at gunpoint.
“Okay, this has gone on long enough! I just want to know one thing from the both of you: Who killed Albert?” the hysterical girl demanded, holding the gun with both of her hands and brandishing it at both of the two of them with determination.

( to be continued…)
 
( chapter 5, part 11…)

Tensions were running high in that moment, the three in a stand off of sorts with the twenty two year old woman obviously with the upper hand at the moment.
“Go on, Sid! Shoot them both!” egged on the rambunctious Terry Lattimer-Davies.
“Oh, shut it, Terry!” snapped back the exasperated and irritated tone from Miss Sidney Lattimer, obviously feeling put out by the teenager.
“Now, my dear, this is hardly…” started Lady Constance Lattimer but shut her mouth as Sidney cocked the back of the gun, her demeanour stalwart and true.
“No need for this, Sid. I know how it looks, but I swear I had nothing to do with Albert’s death,” Jacob Lattimer pleaded, his voice slightly quivering at the gun momentarily trained upon him.
“And what do you have to say for yourself, Guye?” Sid asked casually, the gun wavering slightly between the gambler and bounty hunter.
If there was any reaction to this, Sidney Lattimer was not expecting the bounty hunter to calmly cross their arms across their chest once again and glance squarely at her without flinching.
“I have nothing to say upon the matter. Just that I am innocent and it is obvious whom committed this crime. There is only one idiot that would give the poker to Terry to frame him. Do you know who that is, Sid?” gravely asked Guye Lattimer, the look on their face never changing.
“Yes, I do,” remarked Sidney Lattimer solemnly before lining up her shot and firing the pistol.
Bang! It only took a brief instant, even with the shot ringing in the air and the sudden shout out of fright from Lady Lattimer’s mouth as the wounded body hit the floor.
“Darn, right on the button,” winced out in pain Jacob Lattimer as he held his wounded leg and collapsed to the ground.
Sidney Lattimer stood in shock, allowing the gun to be held loosely in her grip. Guye Lattimer walked over to the momentarily dazed girl and took back their gun from her. The bounty hunter held the smoking pistol by the grip handle and eased it out of the woman’s shaking hands.
“You lose, unfortunately, Jacob,” Guye Lattimer said coldly to the man that was holding his injured leg in pain.
Wincing at the excruciating pain in his shot out leg, Jacob Lattimer could not repress a sinister smile at his predicament.
“Well, I knew I was done for the moment that Albert revealed my trump card of not being a true Lattimer by blood. I did not know what came over me, maybe a panic attack of rage or survival. I just drugged you all and had to get my revenge on that little kid,” stated Jacob Lattimer in between bouts of wincing but noticed the four other figures reacting cold and distant to his confession. “Naturally, I had to do it. WHO CARES ABOUT THAT DUMB BRAT ANYWAY!?!”
It was obvious from that last outburst that the pale face of Jacob Lattimer showed he was afraid as he desperately tried to crawl his way to the wall for support with his injured leg unable to carry his weight. The oppressive pressure, both literally and figuratively, made Jacob Lattimer a hunted man in his own eyes as the rest of the Lattimer Party seemed to close in around him.
“That is still no excuse to kill a child, you vile man,” Lady Lattimer stated with righteous venom and hatred that she could barely look at Jacob in utter repulsion.
“Despite my hunch, I just…to think…why you did it…why?” cried out pitifully Miss Sidney Lattimer, unable to put her disappointment into words as she openly cried tears of sadness for Alfred Lattimer.
“Even if we had our differences, he was still just a kid,” said Terry Lattimer-Davies, shaking his head in disgust at Jacob.
Guye Lattimer said nothing, the fury and retribution evident within the eyes of the bounty hunter as they raised their gun one final time to the head of Jacob. With another final shot, the gambler gurgled out a cry before the body of Jacob Lattimer slumped to the wall and breathed his last breath.


End of Chapter 5.

( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 6, part 1…)


Chapter 6: A Pride To The Fall…

The four survivors remained in silence, no remorse over what they had just witnessed. The pretender was gone, the weasel coward that had killed Albert Lattimer now laying dead at their feet. The bloodied hands that were mired was now awash clean in Guye Lattimer’s act of shooting the child murderer.
“But, why did he still do it? Why kill Alfred?” Sidney Lattimer exclaimed softly, still in shock of the confession they had heard before the end of Jacob.
“Alfred must have known too much, I guess. It was not that hard to think a desperate man like that would do anything to survive,” Terry Lattimer-Davies stated plainly whilst feeling nothing as they gazed down at the ex-gambler.
“No, it wasn’t just about that, it never is with his type of people. Greed, simple as that. By taking out another of our family, his wife’s share would have increased. At least she will know peace at not knowing her husband’s true nature fully,” darkly muttered Lady Constance Lattimer, her face a stone wall of intolerable blankness.
“There is no doubt, this day has ended tragically,” said Guye Lattimer, giving one final look over to Albert Lattimer’s body before their attention was drawn away with a polite cough.
The four Lattimer relatives saw Gerard the head manservant standing in the doorway of Albert Lattimer’s bedroom, the butler having been quiet for most of the proceedings that had just transpired.
“It has now come to just past nine o’clock,” Gerard stated modestly. “If you would be so kind, I humbly request all guests vacate to their rooms.”
It took a few seconds for the four surviving guests to react and they sheepishly agreed as was bidden of them. The last to leave was Terry Lattimer-Davies. He stopped short as he exited, the butler Gerard standing stoically outside the room to have let the guests bypass him.
“So, how did he do it? How did he drug us, Gerard?” Terry incredulously asked Gerard.
“I have no idea, Master Terry. Perhaps by slipping something into your port,” was the cordial response from the old butler.
Terry glanced sharply and slyly back at Gerard. “I will not be fooled, you know. I may be young but I ain’t stupid. The only reason Lady Lattimer and Sid were drugged was because you added something to all our meals, right?”
The butler did not falter, the wall did not break as Terry stared Gerard down. Terry sighed in defeat and started walking by Gerard to go to his room.
“How very perceptive of you, sir,” Terry heard the butler lightly exclaim in a calm and effeciant manner which made Terry stop for a slight moment before continuing down the hallway to his bedroom.


( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 6, part 2…)

The house was eerily quiet that night, not a sound was heard as it crept past the midnight hour. There was no nefarious plotting, no wicked schemes to be planned, no murderous intents within the minds of the surviving Lattimer Guests.
In retrospect, one would almost consider it peaceful if it were deemed to be so. In actual fact, it was. That is why it was somehow even more sinister when the respected party members awoke to nothing insidious or even remotely unsightly in the morning, the second day of their “weekend getaway”.

Lady Constance Lattimer was a shut in recluse, despite her socialist reputation. The life of the party and earlier in her youth renowned as “the Belle of the Ball”. Now she barely exited her lucrative chateau at least twice a month, if that. She knew her old age would deteriorate her social standings eventually, even the moniker “Lady Lattimer” held little sway to her reputation. That was why she became a socialist in the first place, but knew she was a dying breed, being replaced by more celebrity people and young models with political ideals. She had tried the modelling scene twenty five years ago. All that did was get her bad publicity and scandalous news in the papers. “Lady Lattimer in scandal over nudes,” or some such rubbish. Now she retreated to Italy and just socialising in “proper” circles, trying to desperately revitalise the dying breed of “Lady”.
This left a sour taste in her mouth as Lady Constance Lattimer dwelled upon the past of her youth, eager to get back to that old fashioned lifestyle, no matter how the stalest of breads it was good to at least taste something again.
Internally crying over the vicious cycle of life she led, Lady Lattimer half heartedly roused her thoughts away from this melancholy moment and got herself out of her bed.
It took her over fifty minutes to be washed and dressed to presentable attire, her deep brimmed black hat perfect for this fashionista of old, the black dress perfect for usually casual fitting. She almost looked thirty again, if not for the slight wrinkles upon the sides of her eyes and neck betraying the hefty makeup she wore to hide her aged appearance.
‘It is time to greet the peasants once more,’ she thought candidly to her reflection.
Lady Constance Lattimer broke a slight smile to herself before leaving her bedroom at seven fifty that morning.

( to be continued…)
 
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( chapter 6, part 3…)

Guye Lattimer had been unable to sleep, sitting in their bedroom until the crack of dawn at five that morning. Their gun was still in their hands, a comfort in the sleepless night. Though nothing happened, the bounty hunter wanted to be alert, even though they were sleep deprived. It did not occur to them that nothing else would happen last night, but that was just a constant in their life and job.
‘Never can be too careful,’ they grimly thought after cracking their neck to the side to get their head joints functioning again after stiffly eyeing their door all night.
The bounty hunter took a relatively cold bath this morning to ease their sore muscles into relaxing, getting the edge off from being a tensed rattlesnake ready to strike a threat that never came to be. Feeling a crampness from the intense cold in their legs, Guye Lattimer rubbed their legs while swigging back a small flask of whiskey to wake them up fully.
It took less than twenty minutes for Guye Lattimer to get ready, eager to get moving their body out of the cold bath water to loosen up the aching muscles in their body.
They did not care about clothing, just some new jeans and the usual clothes from yesterday would suffice, their jacket holster and gun in its usual place, of course. They did sport some fancy black boots though, just for a change.
Without a word or thought to themselves, Guye Lattimer left their bedroom at roughly seven thirty that morning.

Terry Lattimer-Davies was restless that night but had finally drifted to sleep at around eleven thirty, fatigue finally yielding the sixteen year old boy towards sweet oblivion of dreamless unconscious.
He jolted awake suddenly, having a weird experience of being in danger but was relatively relieved to find himself okay and alive. Grasping a pillow, Terry eased his frantic mind to remind himself he was okay, at least for now. He was glad he had frame of mind last night to keep his bedroom lights on, for he would have been even more afraid to wake up in this state in the dark, as any sane person would.
“It’s nothing, you are safe,” Terry muttered to himself, trying not to let the anxiety get to him.
‘Yeah, for now,’ he heard his inner voice say to himself, the mere thought a constant reminder he was not safe in this house.
“Okay, calm down and relax,” he heard himself say in a forceful tone, trying to get his mind together as he threw the pillow he was clutching away from himself.
Terry never told anyone about his anxiety, maybe that was why he kept putting on a brave front to people. His “stick it to The Man” attitude and rebel thing was just a confidence thing, even the dressing like a punk helped his low self esteem issues that arose from his anxiety. In all truth, Terry just missed the days of being a carefree kid. But he was labeled as just another delinquent troublemaker and that was also what conformed him into being a stereotypical punk. A “troubled teen” as his peers called him.
Easing himself to calm down, Terry got out of bed in a foul mood, just eager to get the day over with. After a fifteen minute shower and dressed in his punk attire, Terry Lattimer-Davies felt refreshed to start a new day, his worries now gone from his mind but still deeply bottled away until another night terror would let them bleed out at a later morning.
‘Stick it to The Man!’ he retroactively thought in defiance as he left his room at seven in the morning.

( to be continued…)
 
( chapter 6, part 4…)

Sidney Lattimer awoke at seven fifty five to the sudden sharp scream coming from out in the hallway, shortly followed by a large thumping noise.
Jolted awake in her pink nightgown, she soon found her fears justified as she raced from her bedroom and glanced over the balcony below her. There was a grisly scene, the rag doll appearance of mangled limbs of Lady Constance Lattimer. She was laying motionless upon the bottom of the stairs in an unnatural heap.
The picturesque view of the former socialite woman made Sidney gasp lightly in shock, turning away from the sight after she saw Guye Lattimer and Terry Lattimer-Davies come from seperate rooms from the hall below her. They had obviously heard the commotion that had gotten Sidney Lattimer’s attention.
With a heavy sigh to soothe her nerves, Sid decided to hold herself together. She had to, as she carefully started to descend the stairs slowly until she caught sight of a thin black thread tied to opposite sides as a tripwire upon one of the stair rungs and to the landing. This was no accident, that was evident. Somebody had deliberately set this trap to make one of them fall down the stairs.
As the clock chimed the hour as eight in the morning, Sidney Lattimer carefully went over the deadly wire with caution not to fall and used the stairway bannister as support to effortlessly avoid a similar fate to the dead Lady Constance Lattimer.

The three surviving guests glanced between each other suspiciously, occasionally looking at the dead body at their feet. Nobody said anything for a few moments before Sidney Lattimer gave another hefty sigh of discontentment.
“I know this is a formality, but where was everyone during the scream?” she suddenly asked the other two guests.
“I was just in the Lounge, looking through a book,” muttered Terry lightly, the teenage boy shrugging his shoulders.
“I was in the Study, just relaxing,” responded Guye Lattimer without a second thought.
“And I was in bed when I heard the scream,” admitted Sidney Lattimer, looking puzzled and concerned.
“The problem is not where we were, it is the timing of this murder. We did not need to be at the scene of the crime to have committed it,” pondered Guye Lattimer, which the other two nodded to the bounty hunter’s point.
“Then how do we solve this? There are only three of us left, so that makes it obvious to me one of you is the killer,” Terry said openly and candidly to them both.
“Obviously, that is true to at least one more of us, Terry. That means one of us is a liar and killer,” Sid Lattimer responded, which made the teen lightly scoff but made Terry quietly think to himself in reflection of her words.

( to be continued…)
 
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