Halloween Short Stories

Just Desserts

Just Desserts

Roland Pierce ran his fingers along the wood panel of his chair, muttering to himself. He'd been about to leave this accursed house when the blasted Inspector Carrigan waylaid him by the main entrance. He then had to wait in the stuffy atmosphere of the Drawing room for everyone to come. The good Inspector hadn't said why he wanted to meet everyone there, but Roland knew. But there was no way that anyone had seen him...

Roland stopped muttering and placed his arms in what he hoped was a neutral position as the Inspector walked into the room, followed by other people who looked almost as anxious as Roland felt.

"I've brought you all here to solve a crime most foul," said Inspector Carrigan, as he stood in front of the group of people in the drawing room. "A crime so awful, that I scarce dare to name it." The Inspector paused for a moment, as if to gather his courage. "Our poor Miss Penelope, was taken in her prime... and what's worse is that her innards were taken, as well."

"I have brought you all here," Inspector Carrigan continued, "because one of you is the culprit."

A gasp of shock traveled around the room at the Inspectors words. There were five people gathered in the room. Each one had been 'invited' to the drawing room by the Inspector. There was Count Dashgood standing by the fireplace, with monocle in place over one eye and a stern expression on his face.

Next to the Count stood Lady Mayweather, who, even in these dire circumstances, was still trying to catch the Count's eye as she pet the fox fur scarf around her neck.

Sitting in the armchair was Mr. Dawson, who had a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other. His brown, woolen vest strained as he lifted his glass in a silent toast to the deceased.

The housemaid stood just behind Mr. Dawson, with her feather-duster in hand and looking frightened.  Roland tried to place her name... Mary. Yes, that was it.

Roland Pierce sat in the high-backed and very uncomfortable chair off to the side of the Inspector, feigning a look of complete innocence and shock. 'They've got nothing on me,' Roland thought to himself. 'All I have to do is sit here and not draw any attention.'

"Oh, Inspector," began Lady Mayweather, "how could you think one of us could do this?"

Mr. Dawson put his glass down on the table next to the armchair and said, "Well, I know that I, for one, did not do it. If you'll excuse me." Mr. Dawson got up with considerable difficulty and made his way to the door, only to be blocked by the Inspector.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dawson," said Carrigan. "But, no one can leave this room until we know who the culprit is." Carrigan patted the revolver at his side and said, in a quiet voice, "I hope I do not have to use this."

Mr. Dawson's face burned bright red and he opened his mouth to argue, but the maid, Mary, grabbed him by the arm and guided him back to his chair.

"Inspector," Roland asked after a burst of inspiration, "how long will this take? I mean, we all knew who did it."

The Inspector raised his eyebrows, but it was Count Dashgood who finally spoke.

"Do we now?" asked the Count. "Who, may I ask, is it then?"

"I should think that it was obvious," Roland said with mock-surprise. "Was not Mr. Dawson the one who wanted to leave, immediately after hearing the charges?"

Mary looked up at Roland, gasping as the Count looked at Mr. Dawson with interest. Dawson, himself, however, glared at Roland through blood-eyes.

"How dare you!" Mr. Dawson shouted, trying but failing to get up out of his chair. "I make and break better men than you every day before breakfast! I'll have your head on a platter for this nonsense."

Roland returned Mr. Dawson's glare with one of absolute calm and turned toward the Inspector. "You see?" asked Roland. "He threatens me now. What more evidence do you need?"

The room erupted in a chorus of angry words and accusations, but the Inspector just looked at Roland in the eyes. Roland was the first to turn away from Inspector Carrigans glance, but masked it by pretending to tie his shoe.

"Actually, I already know who the culprit is," the Inspector said, and the room fell silent. "It is none other than our own Lady Mayweather."

Roland tried to mask his glee at the pronouncement, as all eyes fell on Lady Mayweather. The Lady had to catch herself on the edge of the mantel as she swooned in shock at the Inspector's announcement.

"Surely there's been some mistake, Inspector," said Count Dashgood, as he helped Lady Mayweather to a chair. "She wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Penelope was no fly, my good Count," said the Inspector with confidence. "I talked to the entire staff of this mansion, and Lady Mayweather was the only person who came in or out of this room at the time the crime was committed."

"So, what is to be done now, Inspector?" asked the maid, Mary. "Will you take her off to jail and let us all go free?"

"I'm afraid not, Mary," said Inspector Carrigan as he removed his overcoat. "If I were to take her to jail, she could have a trial and there's a chance she'd be found not guilty." Carrigan placed his coat on the coat rack by the door and walked over to the chair where Lady Mayweather sat silent and afraid. "No, I think we need to punish her here and now."

Count Dashgood tried to block the Inspector, but got knocked to the floor with an almost casual punch to the chin. Carrigan pulled a strong-looking chord from his belt and tied the Lady's hands to the arms of the chair as she cried and against him.

"Now see here, Inspector," Roland said, feeling less happy than before. "You can't do this here, she has rights."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Dawson. "We won't stand for it! She may have done something terrible, but you have no right-"

"I have every right!" cried Inspector Carrigan, his voice now sounding manic. "Do you have any idea how much Penelope meant to me? Every time I came here to visit, no matter what happened, she was always there for me." Carrigan sobbed, but looked back up with anger in his eyes as he said, "But now this woman has taken her from me!" He pointed at Lady Mayweather, then took a pair of black gloves out of his pocket without looking away from the frightened Lady.

"Don't do it, man!" cried Roland, who stood up and walked over to the Inspector. "It wasn't her."

All eyes turned to look at Roland. The Inspector gave him a look of loathing and disbelief as he asked, "Then who did?"

"It was," stammered Roland, with fear rising in his throat. "It was me." Roland looked down at his feet and gritted his teeth. "It was I who took the cookies from the cookie jar!" Roland's voice got stronger as he went on. "I didn't mean to break the jar-"

"Penelope!" corrected Inspector Carrigan.

"Penelope, then." Roland looked back up. "It was a mistake, but come one, is all this necessary? It was just a cookie."

The Inspector looked at Roland for a moment, then untied Lady Mayweather from the chair. Then Roland felt himself being shoved into the same chair and gasped in horror as his hands were tied down.

"Mary, if please," said the Inspector. The maid, Mary, approached Roland with an evil grin as she lifted her feather-duster.

Roland screamed and struggled against his bonds as she closed walked toward him.