The Perfect Murder
A CRIME SHORT STORY WRITTEN BY LYNDA FRANKLIN
An old house, a group of friends and a mystery to solve – but was there a more sinister side to the story?
If there was one thing Lucinda Laycock loved, it was a Murder Mystery evening. If there was one thing she loved even more, it was an unsolved murder mystery. She’d lost count of the evenings she’d hosted where the guests had either not understood the clues or got them completely wrong.
Someone would inevitably drop out at some stage saying plaintively, “Oh, it’s too hard, Luce – I’ll stick to the gin and tonic. The rest of you can solve it.”
But with one fewer player, the momentum of the evening would usually fall flat and before she knew it there would be an outcry and demand of, “Oh, just tell us who did it, Luce!”
Yes, Lucinda loved that. It meant they couldn’t fathom the working of a criminal mind. They had no idea how one twist or turn of a situation could change everything or incriminate someone. It wasn’t easy, Lucinda could admit that. But that was the point, surely? If a criminal mind could be easily understood, then catching the criminal would be simple.
They were all due at Lucinda’s large Victorian house at seven in the evening. There would be snacks and drinks served on arrival, followed by a brief chat about the rules. Then the mystery solving would begin. A tremor of excitement trickled down Lucinda’s back. This was the best part. The anticipation and a group of people determined to have a good time. Anything could happen.
The doorbell rang at precisely five minutes to seven.
Susie! It’s so lovely to see you – come in, lovely lady.
“I never miss your murder evenings – you know that!” Fresh-faced and pretty, Susie gave Lucinda a quick polite kiss, slipped out of her coat and hung it on the banister. She knew exactly where to go, and followed the usual route down the hall to what Lucinda grandly called the parlour. She helped herself to one of the cocktails laid out, and sat down.
Margot was next – pale-faced with red hair and dressed as if she was going to the office in a sensible suit and wide shoes. To keep everything perfectly balanced, there was also Lance – a widower from up the road Lucinda knew reasonably well – and Jonathan.
Jonathan was new to the group. Like Lucinda, he was in his forties – probably late forties. He had wispy fair hair, a pleasant open face, and gave everyone a friendly smile as he walked in.
Lucinda looked around the parlour.
“Has everyone got a drink? Help yourself to canapés. We’ll just have ten minutes or so chatting and getting to know one another and then we’ll start.”
“We know each other already, Luce,” Susie told her. Then she turned to Jonathan and gave him a special smile. “Apart from you, that is. Hi! I’m Susie.”
“Jonathan.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“This is Jonathan, everybody.” Lucinda stepped in. Susie could be a little overbearing at times.
“It’s his first time, so treat him gently.”
“You make this evening sound like a surgical procedure,” he said dryly.
There was a ripple of laughter.
“Well, it can be painful,” Lance put in. “I can never work out the ruddy clues.”
“We almost got the last one right,” Margot said quietly.
She was sitting very upright on the edge of the sofa, as if poised for immediate action.
“Do you all come to Lucinda’s murder and mystery nights often?” Jonathan asked. “If so, I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this sort of thing.”
“It’s just fun,” Susie assured him.
“A good laugh.”
“Shall we begin?” Lucinda said, passing an envelope to each of them.
“Please don’t open them until I have finished speaking.
“So…” she raised her voice very slightly.
“Ernest Smith is dead – believed murdered. There were only four people in the house at the time: the gardener – that’s you Lance.”
She pointed at him and he nodded.
“Also, the handyman who was painting the kitchen.”
“Me?” Jonathan said, eyebrow raised, holding out one hand for the envelope.
“Correct. There was also Bridget his sister – that’s you, Susie. And lastly Maud, his wife.”
“I’m Maud? Dreadful name,” Margot shook her head.
“It’s just a name, Margot,” Susie said. “I’ll swap if you like.”
“No swapping.” Lucinda took a deep breath.
So, I’ll set the scene for you, and then you can open your envelopes, question each other, and search the house for clues if you wish.
“So. At 6pm, Maud and Ernest could be heard arguing.
“The handyman shut the kitchen door so he didn’t have to listen. The gardener heard them, but he was used to hearing them argue so didn’t take a lot of notice.
“At seven, both men recall the smell of dinner cooking. Maud waved goodbye to the gardener at ten minutes past seven, as he left.
“The handyman also left the house at quarter past seven, having noticed Maud start to set the kitchen table for two.”
Lucinda looked at them one by one.
“But Ernest was never seen again. The question is: did he leave his wife? Or was he murdered? If so, where was his body?”
“Oh, my goodness – bit gruesome tonight, Luce.”
“It is a murder mystery, Susie,” Lucinda reminded her. “OK, any top-up of drinks needed? No?
“Right – over to you, then. Solve the mystery of what happened to Ernest Smith!”
Lance sipped his wine and turned to Susie.
“Where were you, then?”
“What?”
“You – Bridget. You’re his sister, aren’t you? Where were you when they were arguing?”
“I was in my bedroom. I had the most dreadful headache and was lying down,” Susie said.
“How come you had a bedroom in their house?”
“I live with them, obviously.”
Lance shrugged.
“Were you just lying down, or in a deep sleep?”
“Oh deep – very deep.”
“So, you didn’t hear anything?” Jonathan asked.
“Oh dear, more questions for me. Well, I heard Maud scream, ‘You’ll never get away with this,’ and then there was a loud bang and –”
“For goodness’s sake, Susie, you’re not meant to make it up,” Margot told her wearily. “Go by your instructions.”
“Oh yes, sorry.” She scanned the sheet. “No, I didn’t hear anything.”
Margot rolled her eyes.
“What about you, Lance – I mean the gardener? Did you see Ernest leave the house? You apparently saw Maud at the window waving to you – did you see Ernest?”
“No.”
“You have to say more than just ‘no’.”
I was putting my tools away. I didn’t go near the house until it was time to leave. I noticed Maud at the window, so I waved and she waved and –
“You waved first?”
Lance sighed.
“Yes. Does it matter?”
“It could do.”
Lucinda leaned against the wall listening to their conversation – glass of orange juice in her hand. She never drank until the evening was over. One of them knew they were the murderer by now, but she had to admit they were covering very well.
“Mr Handyman,” Susie said. “When did you finish painting? It’s odd Maud was setting the table for dinner in the kitchen. It must have smelt really bad.”
Jonathan glanced down at his paper.
“No, I’d finished the painting days ago. I was just putting up a shelf.”
“Did you see Ernest? Was he there when Maud was setting the table?”
“Maud said he’d popped out for a pint of milk.”
“Really?” Susie looked smug. “The gardener said he never saw Ernest leave the house.”
“He also said he was busy putting his tools away and didn’t go near the house until it was time to leave.”
“Oh, yes – that’s a nuisance,” she murmured, putting a cross against a name. “Oh dear, I’m a bit stumped now.”
“Obviously Maud murdered her husband,” Margot said in her quiet, even voice. “He would have come forward to confirm he was alive otherwise, wouldn’t he? But how did she do it?
“No one has mentioned a bang – apart from Susie which was ridiculous – so a gun could not have been involved. Even a knife would have involved some yelling perhaps.”
“Oh, well done Margot!” Susie said. “It must be you, but how did you do it?”
Margot nodded slowly.
And where is the body?
Jonathan grinned.
“Can we just remember this is a game? There is no actual body.”
“I know that, but we have to come up with an answer to where it might be. You haven’t done this sort of thing before, Jonathan. It’s all about working it out – making it fit like a jigsaw puzzle.”
Jonathan turned to Lucinda.
“Any chance of another drink?”
She shook her head.
“You need to keep a clear head. We’ll have drinks when the game is over.”
Lance seemed to have woken up.
“We know the gardener left. What about the handyman? How do we know he didn’t come back – or didn’t actually leave at all? Come to that, how do we know the gardener didn’t come back?”
“That’s you, Lance.” Margot said. “Are you now saying you did it?”
“What? No, of course not, just keeping you on your toes.” He let out a big breath. “It all seems very confusing. But of course it isn’t.”
“You’re not confused?”
“It’s the patch in the garden you see, Margot.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s no longer there.”
“Stick to the script, Lance,” Lucinda warned.
He glanced across at her.
“The larkspur – pretty little blue flowers, they are. They had been dug up, you see. I only live up the road and I can see the back garden from my upstairs window. I used to notice and think how pretty they were, but then they were gone.”
“For goodness’s sake Lance, we don’t want a gardening lesson,” Susie said. “Who cares whether the blue flowers are there or not. Get on with the game.”
“It only takes six hours. Nausea, burning in the mouth and slowing of heartbeat. Then death.”
Lucinda cleared her throat.
I love your imagination, Lance, but would you please stick to the script or we’ll be here all night.
Susie nodded.
“Yes, stop messing around.”
“The handyman came back,” Lance announced evenly.
“Is this your theory?” Margot asked. “Are you saying you’ve actually solved the mystery? I’m not sure you’re right.”
Lance shrugged.
“He came back to help Maud. They’d poisoned him, you see, with the larkspur petals – chopped them up as finely as they could and put them in his dinner. It took two of them to carry him to the back garden. He was quite a big man.”
“Ernest? I imagined him as being on the small side.”
“I suppose you’re going to say they dug a hole and buried him in the back garden!” Jonathan said. “A bit unoriginal, if you ask me.”
“Yes, but the hole had been dug days ago. The murder had been well prepared. They dug the hole then covered it with patio slabs. They popped him in and put the slabs back on top.”
“Hmm. Not sure about that, Lance – I mean, Mr Gardener,” Susie said. “What was the motive?”
“Maud was having an affair, wasn’t she? With the handyman.” He looked up at Lucinda. “My solution to the crime is that Maud and the handyman planned the murder of Ernest because they were having an affair. They poisoned him with larkspur and he is buried under the patio in the back garden. Am I right, Lucinda?”
There was a moment’s silence then Susie clapped her hands together.
“Is he? Is he right, Luce?”
“Surely there is usually only one murderer?” Margot said. “It’s a bit unfair to put two in this time, I think.”
“It all sounds very unlikely to me,” Jonathan added.
Lance held Lucinda’s gaze.
“But I’m right, aren’t I? Of course, like all true crimes the names have been changed to protect the innocent – or is it the guilty? But I’m pretty sure I’m right.”
“Because a few flowers were missing?” Lucinda said softly.
“That was the start of it.”
“The game’s over then! Let’s have a drink.” Jonathan stood up, his smile now fixed on his face.
“Anyone else want a drink?”
“So, when did you guess, Lance?” Lucinda pressed, her eyes meeting his.
“The flowers got me thinking. Then you had that lovely new patio laid, even though there was nothing wrong with the old one. And, of course, I’d seen the handyman come and go for quite a while. I see a lot from my upstairs window. As for your husband, Derek.
“Well, I know you said he was away on business, but he seemed to disappear into thin air. And all the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never known Derek to miss a home football game.”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re both talking about!” Susie insisted. “Can we get on with the game, please?”
“I needed to test it out,” Lucinda murmured. “I had to see if anyone would be able to guess. Planning a murder is an intricate affair and this was the perfect murder. Not one of you knows anything about planning a murder.
You are all useless at guessing and working out. You wouldn’t have known either, Lance, if you hadn’t noticed I’d dug up the flowers.
“You say I wouldn’t have known, but you only need to make one mistake. One mistake is all it takes to get caught,” Lance said.
“You made a mistake, Lucinda. You are not as clever as you think you are.”
“Maybe not.”
“Lucinda – stop it!” Jonathan stood up. “Don’t say anything else!”
“It’s no good, Jonathan. Lance has obviously seen you creeping round the back when Derek was out. I suppose you just happened to be looking out of your bedroom window?
“That’s right, isn’t it, Lance?”
Lance sighed.
“I’m afraid so. I really wish it wasn’t.”
Lucinda smiled.
“Yes, I wish it wasn’t, too.”
She looked around at the shocked faces staring back at her.
“So, the murder has been solved! Well, I’m afraid I have to announce that this will be the last murder mystery evening for some time. I hope you’ve all enjoyed them. I rather think it’s time you went home now, Margot and Susie.”
“What about Jonathan?” Susie said, in almost a whisper.
“Oh, Susie, really! Have you still not grasped who did it?” Lucinda touched her shoulder lightly. “You know I’m going to miss you, lovely lady.”
“Let’s go, Susie,” Margot said, ushering her towards the hall.
“I suppose the police are on their way?” Lucinda asked Lance.
He nodded slowly, his mouth in a tight line. “They’ll be here any minute.”
Lucinda patted her hair and smoothed her dress.
“Well, I’m glad someone’s worked everything out perfectly, anyway.” She smiled. “Shall we sit down and have a drink together while we wait? Jonathan darling – pour me a cocktail, will you? I’m not sure how long it will be before I have another.”
She watched as he fixed her a drink before walking slowly back to her.
“Thank you, darling. Cheers!”
She slipped her hand into her pocket, tipped what looked like blue mist into her glass – so fine were the petals – then, in a flash, drank every drop.
She turned to Lance with a shaky smile.
“Perfect planning, don’t you think?”
