Mystery in William Manor


It is a dark and stormy night. Lightning flashes in the sky, leaving a huge jig-saw puzzle breaking as each strike of lightning occurs. Clouds blanket the moon, causing a dull and gloomy glow over the ground. The rain resembles a curtain—making visibility close to none. In the middle of this storm, a giant mansion sits towering on a hill.
Suddenly, a car emerges from the darkness. It travels through the windy road leading to the gate. The driver stops at the gate and exits the car while holding a briefcase over his head, shielding himself from the rain. He pushes aside the barrier preventing the gate to be opened—causing a noise similar to nails scratching a chalkboard. He shivers. After this, the driver enters his car and pulls ahead to the front of the mansion. As he makes his way up the steps to the door, two lion-shaped gargoyles stare fiercely at him.

Colonel Muston opens the door only to realize he isn’t the only one there. In the lobby are Professor Prim, Miss Violet, Mrs. Petri, and Mr. Greener.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” questions Colonel Muston.

“Don’t be silly Charles. You aren’t the only detective who wants the fifty thousand dollar reward for solving the crime,” responds Miss Violet.

Professor Prim adds, “We were wondering when you were going to arrive. Still fashionably late I see.” As they talk with one another, a well-dressed man enters the room. He wears a black suit with a crisp-white dress shirt buttoned to the top, a black tie, white cotton gloves, black striped pants, and laced black shoes.

The butler announces, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. All of you were invited by Mrs. William to investigate the murder of her husband, Francis William. He died by a blow to the head with a square-blunt object. It is your job to identify the murderer and locate the weapon used. Detectives, you may begin your investigation.”

“May the best detective win,” mumbles Mr. Greener. The detectives disperse and dive into their investigation.

When Professor Prim departs from the group, he strolls into the kitchen. The kitchen contains very nice features: marble counter tops, a large set of knives, and a walk-in freezer. After he enters the room, Professor Prim meets the cook, who is standing next to a counter, slicing onions with a large sharp knife. “So, how long have you been working for the Williams?”

“Around ten years,” replies the cook in a raspy voice.

“Very tragic…I mean…one day Francis is healthy as an ox, and the next, he is gone just like that.” Professor Prim snaps his fingers.

“Yes, none of us saw it coming. Can I help you with something?” asks the cook.

“No, I’m just looking around trying to get a feel of the place. Say, where do you keep the rolling pins? The cook points to a cupboard at the other side of the kitchen and Professor Prim walks over. He takes a rolling pin and examines it closely. A thin layer of dust masks it, indicating it wasn’t handled recently.

While Professor Prim is snooping in the kitchen, Miss Violet is doing the same in the den. In one corner of the room, a large dark-brown recliner sits facing an out of date television which appears as if it came out of the sixties. In the opposite corner, an antique desk rests. It seems exhausted from its many years of service. Scattered papers camouflage the surface of the desk while the desk chair lies at its side. As Miss Violet scans the papers, something catches her eye. It’s a memo Francis wrote to himself dated the day before his lifeless body was found. It reads, “Meet with the cook.” Beneath the memo is a termination letter.

“That’s strange,” Miss Violet whispers. As she turns to leave, Miss Violet spots a golf trophy sitting towards the back of the desk. It seems out of place since the mansion already contains room dedicated to the families’ trophies. Just as she reaches for the trophy, the lights turn off. A spine-tingling scream pierces the silence from somewhere in the mansion.

The detectives stop dead in their tracks. As they frantically make their way back to the lobby, Mrs. Petri and Mr. Greener bump into one another. Thinking she is in danger, Mrs. Petri swings her purse and strikes Mr. Greener in the face. Momentum from the hit causes him to lose his balance and fall down the staircase they are traveling on. Finally, the lighting returns.
“Oh, I am so sorry Mr. Greener. I thought you were attacking me,” apologizes Mrs. Petri.
“Just don’t do that again,” Mr. Greener snappishly replies. Finally, all the detectives make it to the lobby. They find the butler standing next to the power switch.

“What in the world is going on here?” barks Colonel Muston.

“Yeah, how are you expecting us to work under these conditions?” asks Professor Prim.

“Everyone needs to calm down. It seems there was a power shortage. There is no need to panic,” the butler replies in a soothing manner.

“What about the scream?” questions Professor Prim. “We all heard it, didn’t we?” He glances at the other detectives and they nod in agreement. “Try to explain that.”

“I don’t know,” the butler admits. I think it came from the living room.” The group sets off for the living room. There they discover the house-keeper, Mrs. Whitney, dead, lying on the carpet with a knife wound in her back. Sickened, Miss Violet flees the room.

“Who would do such a thing?” cries Mrs. Petri. Suddenly, darkness overtakes the room. Another yell is heard. The groups’ panicked voices fill the mansion. The darkness lasts only twenty seconds, but seems like an eternity for the detectives.

“Where did the scream come from?” asks Mr. Greener frantically.

“I think it came from the kitchen,” replies the butler. Running, the group finally makes it to the kitchen. The cook lay face down on the floor with a candlestick next to him.

“Not again,” the butler says exasperated. Suddenly, the cook begins to move. Everyone gasps.

“Hey…what happened?” mumbles the cook.

“It looks like you got hit in the head with a candlestick. Do you remember who it was?” questions the butler.

“No. I was just slicing carrots and bang, someone hit the back of my head,” responds the cook. Just then, Miss Violet enters the room.

“Hey, where have you been?” demands Mrs. Petri.

“I left the living room because I was frightened,” answers Miss Violet.

“Yeah, but where did you go after that. How do we know you didn’t murder Mrs. Whitney or try to do the same thing to the cook?” bellows Colonel Muston.

“Now why would I do that? I came here invited like the rest of you to solve the murder of Mr. William. What motive would I have to do it anyway? Plus, I know who the actual murderer is. In fact, the murderer is in this very room.” The detectives glance nervously at one another.

“How do you know?” asks the cook.

“Funny you should ask—you being the murderer and all.” Everyone gasps.

“That is preposterous! Why would I murder Francis? I have worked here for ten years!” exclaims the cook.

“That is exactly the reason,” replies Miss Violet. “I did some digging in the den and found some very interesting things. A letter of your termination was lying on the desk when I checked there before the lights went off. I also saw a golf trophy. And you know what? The corner of the trophy’s base was an exact match of the wound caused by the death blow to Mr. William’s head. You probably did some snooping around his den and realized you were getting fired. Apparently, ten years of you busting your back for Mr. William meant nothing to him.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” the cook replies testily.
“After I left the living room, I returned to the den and found both the document and trophy were gone. You must have covered your tracks. To be absolutely sure you wouldn’t get caught, you made it look like you were a victim,” Miss Violet points out.
“I’m not following this,” complains Mrs. Petri.
“It is actually quite simple Mrs. Petri,” the butler cuts in. “Here, I will take you through all of what happened here tonight. Follow me.” He runs into the lobby. “We all started here, and then we separated. As we were distracted investigating, the cook went out to the power switch and turned it off.” The butler runs over to the power switch and pretends to flip it. He then races into the living room while pretending to hold a knife over his head. “Since the cook wanted to make sure there were no loose ends, he murders Mrs. Whitney here in the living room with the knife! With only ten seconds of darkness to spare, the cook sprints to the closet and hides there.” The butler darts to the closet with the group following close behind. “With all of us distracted, once again, by the dead body of Mrs. Whitney, the cook sneaks out the closet, grabs a candlestick from the wall, and turns off the power again. Then, he runs into the kitchen.” Following the butler, the group makes its way to the kitchen. “The cook yells out, lies down on the floor, and places the candlestick next to him. That is what happened.”

“Hey, you know, that actually makes sense,” remarks Professor Prim. Turning to the cook, Professor Prim adds, “You said you were slicing carrots when you were attacked, right?”

“That’s right I was,” stammers the cook.

“How could you be slicing carrots when the lights were out?” demands Colonel Muston. Suddenly, the cook pulls out a gun. Terrified, everyone jumps back.

“Nobody move!” the cook shouts. “I’m leaving and you guys are not following me.” He backs toward the door. What he doesn’t realize though, is that Mrs. William is waiting for him at the other side, holding a golf club. Just as the cook backs through the door, Mrs. William swings the club and hits him square in the head—knocking him unconscious.

“Mrs. William?” Miss Violet exclaims, “When did you get here?”

“I decided to check on the investigation to see how it was going. Just as I came in, I overheard the cook. That is when I grabbed a golf club from the closet,” explains Mrs. Williams.
“Thank you so much Mrs. Williams,” chimes Mr. Greener.

“No, thank you. Knowing the truth about my husband’s death means more than you know,” Mrs. Williams adds. “Here, I want each of you to have these,” she hands the detectives envelopes. Each envelope contains ten thousand dollars.
With that, the detectives leave the mansion and venture back into the dark and stormy night.