A Dark and Stormy Knight(A Murder Mystery)

[Drinking Cap]

Robert Fartherington sat at the desk of his study. It was a luxuriously appointed room in a house that screamed decadence. Still, thought Fartherington, what's the point in being one of the wealthiest men in the country if you can't spend the money?

Robert reflected on his life of recent. He'd had quibbles with his wife, his mistress, his children and even at work in the last year. Something had seemed to be out of place with him. He'd been unable to settle down, unfocused. Then came the announcement that he was to be knighted. Somehow that seemed to have straightened his sails.

Robert sipped at his snifter of Remy Martin as he examined his papers. He'd finally set into motion the neccesary paper work that would facilitate his being able to settle down. With one woman at his side, watching his future Grandchildren grow. Robert could feel the relief washing over him. He'd had enough of the cutthroat business world. He was looking forward to a retirement of luxury and leisure.

"Aigh!" Robert screamed. There was a sharp pain in his back. As a young man in the Navy Robert had thrown his back out and it recurred every now and then. Robert was about to reach for the bottle of painkillers he kept at his desk when he felt the pain grow. Also, he felt that this pain was accompanied by a growing wetness. He reached around and felt a knife handle sticking out of his back.

Frantically he spun around. In the corner of the poorly lit room, Fartherington saw his attacker, their face obscured in the dark room.

"W-who are you" he sputtered as he fell against his desk. His bottle of ink spilling across the papers on his desk. His attacker stepped forward into the light. Robert squinted as he looked at the person who'd attacked him.

"Y-you..I...I...trusted you" He choked out as he felt the pain spread out and envelop his body. Robert knew the end was near. He reached out for the letter opener he kept on his desk and grasped it firmly. If he was going to die, he'd exact his revenge on his murderer. He attempted to swing the letter opener at his attacker but his legs no longer responded to his command. He'd been paralyzed by fear. Robert was no longer seeing clearly, tears were welling up in his eyes and he began to see a bright and heavenly light.

"Please...help" He begged of his attacker one last time. The killer simply smiled cruelly and stepped back. Robert collapsed and fell onto the floor of his study, his body stained with blood and ink.

The killer calmly approached the now dead body and withdrew the knife from the dead man's back

 

[Drinking Cap]

Det. Nigel Montgomery

Nigel Montgomery sat quietly in his office at the police station, eating a packet of crisps. He'd smoked a joint at lunch and had been feeling rather good about himself. There were no cases to be solved, no paperwork to be done. He'd initially been upset as his transfer from London to the small village of Chesterfordshire but if it meant he'd have more days to relax and enjoy himself, well, it was a punishment he'd accept with open arms.

Yes, thought Nigel as he let the marijuana high was over him, nothing at all could ruin my day.

Bzzzt

It was the intercom into his office from the hub. The familiar voice of Constable Rosemary Myers snapped Montgomery out of his

"Detective Montgomery, the Inspector would like to have a word."

Ugh, thought Montgomery, the Inspector was an older man who cared nothing for the deductive reasoning Montgomery used to solve his cases. He was all about "by the book" police work and "following leads", "Interviewing suspects" and all the other stuff that, in Nigel's mind usually revealed nothing more than a lack of imagination.

"Gosh Rosie love, there isn't any chance you could tell him I'm out on patrol, is there?"

"First of all, it's Constable Myers, not Rosie love and second of all the Captain happens to be standing right here."

Nigel's heart sunk.

"Ah, then I suppose you'd best send him right in."

Nigel spent a few seconds straightening up his messy office and straightening his tie. Nigel wasn't one for cleanliness but he knew his superior would rather see an orderly environment. He flung open a window so as to air out the room. As he was throwing some of his excess clutter into the waste bin, his door opened and Inspector Davis stood before him. Davis was a tall man with an imposing physique. His hair was greying at the temples slightly but it only seemed to add to his intimidating qualities. The skinny bespectacled Detective tried to shake off the buzz he was feeling.

"Ah, Inspector, it is a great pleasure to see you." He said, holding out the spare chair in his office

"Thank you, Montgomery, sorry to interrupt your patrol" The Inspector replied, his face utterly devoid of humour.

"Ah, yes, well, you know how these intercoms are." Nigel replied. It didn't make a lot of sense but it was the best he could do. The inspector seemed not to take a great exception as he was sniffing the air.

"Montgomery, do you know what that smell is?"

"Uh, leaves, sir, I believe the caretaker was burning some leaves outside my window." Nigel thought this was the best course. The Inspector had spent his whole life in this sleepy country village and was, to the best of Nigel's knowledge, unfamiliar with the smell of burning pot.

"Look Detective, I thought I'd get straight to the point. I'm still receiving complaints about the McManus case"

Nigel groaned. It hadn't been his proudest of moments.

"In all fairness sir, all of my best deduction did indicate a strong likelihood that his Daughter was the killer."

"His daughter?"

"That's right."

"His daughter, the Nun?"

"Well, Inspector, you have to admit that it would be a very clever cover for a murderer."Nigel argued

"Joining a convent at the age of 18, to avert suspicion of a murder to be committed at 43?"

"Well, she could have killed more people. After all who'd suspect a nun?"

"Who indeed?" The Inspector simply stared at his subordinate, incredulously

"Still, sir, why all the commotion, the case is closed and the killer behind bars." Nigel pointed out. The old man's gardener had confessed to the murder a few days ago.

"This is more about your conduct, Monty. I was wondering why you didn't suspect the gardener in the first place."

"Well, why would I sir?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. Maybe it's the Gardener's previous criminal record-"

"Well, I-" Nigel tried to interject

"Or perhaps the fertilizer under the victim's fingernails-" The Inspector continued

"See, I considered that but-"

"The fact that the murder weapon was a rake-"

"In fairness, there were rakes at the convent-"

"OR MAYBE THE FACT THAT THE MAN WAS KILLED IN HIS GARDEN!" The Inspector was yelling now, his face turning a bright red.

"See, though sir, if there's one thing I learned in London it's that all of that evidence pointing to one person will rarely mean that one person is the killer. I mean, that gardener was really stupid not to have even, say, used a gun"

The inspector rolled his eyes. Nigel realized it was best not to press the issue.

"But, uh, bygones will be bygones. Learn from our mistakes and all that?" Nigel asked hopefully.

"Look, Montgomery, I'm just about at the end of my rope with you. We've just had a call from one of the estates out side of town. They found a big muckety muck from London dead and I've decided, against my best judgement, to let you handle this. He was rich and important, so I hope I don't need to impress upon you that this is very not to be screwed up." The inspector threw a file onto Nigel's desk

"You can count on me, Gaffer" Nigel smiled with a mock salute as he picked up the folder.

"And what I mean by that is no accusing people without ample evidence, no half brained theories about sadistic conspiracies of the catholic church and absolutely no tackling middle aged nuns in the middle of sunday mass."

"Well, sir it would be pretty remarkable if this case was exactly like the Mcmanus murder" Nigel remarked, completely deadpanned. This brought a frown to the Inspector's face.

"Just don't bollocks it up, Montgomery, or you'll be demoted to chief urinal inspector." The inspector stood up and left the room. Alone in the room, Nigel scanned the file. The deceased was a Robert Fartherington, from London. This case had all the hallmarks of the excitement Nigel was missing from London. He'd be sure to solve this one. He put his finger on his intercom"

"Rosie love, now that Old Stroppy Puss is gone, can you get on the horn and ask Scotland Yard to send up anything they have on a Robert Fartherington?"

The voice of the inspector came on the intercom

"I'm still in the hallway, Montgomery"

"Ah, good sir. Well, be on the lookout for Old Stroppy Puss, lord I love that cat" Nigel thought he did an excellent job covering.

"Just solve the case, Detective"

Nigel waited a few minutes now before buzzing the intercom.

"Rosie, darling, could you get on the phone?"

The sweet soft tones of the attractive young constable came on in response.

"Do it yourself you lazy git, I'm not your bleedin' secretary."

 

[Drinking Cap]

Det. Nigel Montgomery

It had been a short drive from the station house to the Fartherington estates and then a somewhat longer drive from the begginning of Fartherington estates to Fartherington manor

"Blimey, Fartherington must have owned half the country!" Nigel exclaimed to no one. He drove up to the large and ancient mansion that sat on the top of the hill. A modern place, compared to most in the area, there were tennis courts, a swimming pool, stables and a garage that looked like it could hold two regular sized houses. Nigel pulled his Cooper into one of them. A short, bald, roundish man was their to greet him.

"Detective Montgomery, I presume?" the man said in a stuffy, upper class accent

"That's what it says on my coffee mug" Nigel replied

"Good to see you sir, if you'll leave your, uh, car in the driveway one of the boys will park it for you."

"Great, uh, sorry but who are you?" Nigel said as he shut his car door behind him.

"Alistair Jeeves, at your service. Gentleman's gentleman."

Aha thought Nigel, that explains the accent. And the posture

"Really? Well, you know, I had a cousin that was like that. Every Christmas he'd bring his 'special friend' over and I thought he was a ripping good..."

"No, Detective, that means I was, as you would put it, Mr. Fartherington's butler. His head of household."

"Ah." Nigel still looked confused.

"If you'll follow me, Detective, I'll take you into Mr. Fartherington's study. Right this way" Jeeves turned and motioned down a long hallway. The hallway was furnished quite fashionably and the only touch of ostentatious wealth was the works of art that hung on the wall. Nigel noticed a Cezannes, a Monet and a Picasso in this hallway alone. The walk was a relatively long one.

"Big house to be head of, isn't it?" Nigel asked trying to make conversation

"Yes, Mr. Fartherington had it built five years ago at the request of, hmm, Mrs. Fartherington. Previously he'd had estates further to the north and an old stately place. Now much of my job is cleaning the various Television's and Hi-Fi's." Alistair repsonded cooly before stopping at a large oak set of double doors, a younger servant was standing in front of them.

"Mr. Fartherington's study, sir. I've preserved it exactly as I found it." He gestured to the young servant who quickly left the hall.

"So, you found the body then."

"I am sad to say I did discover the horrific sight. I woke Mr. Fartherington at 7 every morning. He wasn't in his room this morning and I began searching the house. I found him here at about 9 AM. "

"It took you two hours to find the body?"

"It is a very large house, sir" Jeeves said as he opened both of the doors into the study. Inside Nigel noticed a scene of dissarray that would have put even his own office to shame, making note of the bookshelf lined walls and the military antiques that adorned the decorative spots as he noticed the true attraction. He walked up to the desk, papers were knocked about, the chair had been knocked over and lying on his back on the floor, his eyes still open was Robert Fartherington. His Face and hands were stained blue.

"Bloody hell" Nigel exclaimed "I always thought that blue blood was just an expression"

Jeeves had stood behind him

"Sir?"

"Well, I mean, I thought when they referred to big muckity mucks as blue bloods it was some kind of joke but look at this, actual blue blood. How does it get this way, is it through all the inbreeding?" Nigel leaned down to touch the mans forehead, he'd never worked a murder case involving anyone of particular importance.

"Sir, that would be ink. Mr. Fartherington kept a bottle of it on his desk which he knocked over in the struggle, I presume."

Nigel looked embarrassed

"I, ah, knew that of course."

"Of course sir, if you'd care to notice, the wound to Mr. Fartherington is actually at his back." Nigel turned the body sideways and observed the dark red stain at the back of the man's shirt

"As you can see Detective, as red as yours or mine" A small smile crept onto the Butler's face.

"You know, Jeeves, how long did you say you worked for Mr. Fartherington?"

"I didn't sir, but it would have been twenty five years, next October"

"Well, pardon my saying so but you don't seem particularly upset."

"I assure you sir, I'm weeping on the inside. Still, there are things to be done." Jeeves replied, his face not flinching.

"Does his family know?"

"Yes, before you arrived I personally informed each of the guests about the tragedy. I've had them wait in the upstairs parlour. I assumed you'd like to have a word with them." Nigel kept looking around the scene, making notes in the small travelling notebook he carried with him.

"Are there a lot of them here?"

"No, only a few. There's his son and daughter. His wife is here as well. There's a Mr. Blake Connelly, who was in business with Mr. Fartherington but that's everyone in the house aside from the servants." Jeeves recounted.

"Is that everyone who was here last night?"

"No, there is also the matter of a Lady Carina Ryecart. I rang her place shortly after calling the police. I thought it best to be discrete about that, as the Lady and Mr. Fartherington were intimate friends."

"And we don't want wifey to find out about this?"

"I believe it's what he would have wanted."

Nigel took a last look at the body. Stabbed in the back. By either a family member, a lover or a trusted friend. Nigel's heart was practically jumping out of his throat with excitement. This was the kind of case he'd dreamed about. It would take all of his deductive powers.

"Right then Jeeves, I'll ring the station, get them to send the team over to pick up the body. You make sure all of the people in the house stay in the house!"

Nigel could barely contain his joy. There was sleuthing afoot.

 

[PogueMahone]

Robert Fartherington JR

Robert Fartherington Jr. or “Junior” as his friends called him woke up with a horrid taste in his mouth and a dull ache that seemed to be centered just behind his eyeballs. Moaning in pain he tried to squeeze his eyes shut against the early morning light but the pressure seemed to only make the pain worse. Sitting up caused him to curse softly and freeze in place as he waited for the room to stop slowly rotating around him. Once his bedroom had decided to stay in one place, Junior slowly continued to stand up making each movement slow and deliberate as he walked slowly towards the bathroom. He’d over indulged at the party last night and was now feeling the effects of a massive hangover. Junior chuckled softly and instantly regretted it as he remembered how his father had been very disapproving as he drank the entire bottle of 75 year old scotch. The events of the rest of the evening had become something of a blur after that; in fact Junior couldn’t remember how he’d gotten into bed last night.

Splashing water on his face, Robert stared into the mirror, his red rimmed eyes staring back at him as his fingers ran through the shaggy beard he had grown to piss off his father. Feeling slightly better Junior moved back into the bedroom picking his rumbled dirty clothes off the floor and started dressing in the same pair of pants and tee-shirt he’d been wearing all week. He was just slipping his feet into a pair of lace-less sneakers when a knock on the door made him pause, his fingers rubbing his temples as the unexpected noise made the pounding in his head increase tenfold. “Coming.” He mumbled painfully as he moved towards the door, pulling it open to see Jeeves standing there.

“Yah?” Junior asked the kind although impossibly proper butler. Jeeves had been hired when Junior was just an infant and he’d grown up with the always proper gentleman’s gentleman. “Whas up?” He asked, his words slurring slightly. Maybe I’m still a little drunk, Junior thought to himself as he waited for Jeeves response.

What the butler told him sobered Junior Fartherington up instantly. Dead. His Father. Found killed this morning. He couldn’t do more then gape stupidly at Jeeves as he told him about finding Mr. Fartherington lying on the study floor this morning. He fumbled his way out of his bedroom and down the hall towards the impromptu gathering of his family in the parlour. Junior paused, one hand on the door handle as he braced himself, preparing himself mentally for what was waiting for him in the parlour. How were Sarah and Madeline going to handle this? Junior wondered as he opened the door and stepped in.

 

[krazykyotee]

blake Connelly

Blake woke to the knocking on his door. "Alright, Alright, hold your horses, give me a second." Reaching out beside him, he found the other side of the bed empty, and he cursed. Yet another night the Blakester didnt score. Only then did he realize where he was.

Out in the middle of bleedin nowhere, at his partners place for some crummy party. And from what he saw of the others who were here, it was a mostly family affair, though Blake did have to give RObert credit, the ladies attending were quite the dish. Not even a decent disco for tens of kilometers,though...that would crimp his friday night action. Well, he'd stay for the free booze and grub, give ol Mr. Perfect Bobby his attaboys for being a knight, and he was out of here.

Throwing on a robe, he swung open the door. "yeah, i didnt ask for breakfast yet, baby...er, oh, its you.." Blake snapped his fingers, "Jeeves, right? What do you want? Ceremonies starting early?"

Blade took the news of Roberts death quite well. The slack jawed look in his face lasted all of maybe 2 minutes. "Bobby...dead? What the hell happened...oh wait, the bobbies arent here are they? Shit, uh, yeah tell the inspector i'll be down with the others at the time he wants." ANd with that, blake slammed the door.

Running over to the dresser top, he opened several pill bottles, rushing to the bathroom. The look of pain he had as he flushed several hundead dollars of almost pure colombian powder down the drain was wose than the the look he gave at the door.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Lady Carina Ryecart

Carina had given instructions that she not be disturbed until ten o’clock that morning, much later than her customary 8 am wake up. This was not due to being “the worse for wear” as she suspected several of the other party-goers would be this morning, rather it was because she had retired very late the night before, much later than most people at the Fartherington’s might have realised.

The evening had gone well enough, but she had found it … difficult … at best to see Robert “in the bosom of his loving family”. It was a situation she had sworn she would never put herself in and yet somehow she found herself sat at the dinner table trapped between Robert’s indolent and idiotic “son and heir” and Robert’s business partner, the predatory Mr Connelly. Everything had been “civilised” even friendly. She got the impression that Madeline was thrilled by Robert’s new “title” and accordingly deferential and intimidated in turn by her own title and bloodline. Breeding, Carina reflected, could not be bought and after observing husband and wife in action for the evening, Madeline could not help but dismiss her “rival” as “ornamental” at best and “vacuous” at worst.

And so it was that she had excused herself before 11 pm assuring them that it would indeed be a pleasure to attend the formalities early the following afternoon and adding pointedly that this evening was really a time for “family celebration”, a barb that was not lost on Robert. Having made her farewells, she had left the assembled company at the earliest opportunity with the intention of awaiting her car in the reception. Indeed it was there that Robert accosted her pulling her unceremoniously into one of the side rooms, a small sitting room rarely used. Seeing the evidence of the strain he was under as the mask of conviviality fall from his face, Carina was instantly contrite. Experience, the knocks of life made her unusually detached and somewhat . .. severe … in her assessment of and her treatment of her fellow man and woman, yet only with Robert had she let that protective wall slip. He alone saw the warm and vulnerable side of Carina and as such realised just how difficult she had found this evening’s events.

Deep embraces and desperate kisses took the place of apologies.
Words could not communicate so rapidly the frustration of the charade they were trapped in.
The arrival of her car interrupted their heated intimacy.

”I’m sorry darling … I … “

Robert silenced her words promising that they would meet before the morrow, a meeting snatched, clandestine, but necessary if they were to make it through the next day. They had to talk, he insisted. There were … issues to discuss.
She nodded, not commenting. She needed to consider, to weigh her words for later.
The time, the place were set and with one swift embrace she left him to his family.

It had been hours … 6 hours only … since she had seen him when she received the call.
Struggling for consciousness, her hand had picked up the receiver before she was even fully awake.

”Lady Ryecart … “

She struggled into consciousness.
She could count on one hand those who had access to this private line and only one male featured in that select listing.
It couldn’t be … it wasn’t possible that he would be able to call her at this time, today of all days!

”Robert … wh… “

Her words were interrupted by the Jeeves’ precise tones as he announced himself and explained that he had taken the liberty to call her in this way due to some very tragic circumstances.
She was wide awake then.
Tragic took her back, took her back to the time when she had been informed …

”Nooo… “

Her whispered denial.
It couldn’t be true. There had been some mistake.
How could it happen again?
She had only ever loved two men, only ever given herself totally to them.
And both times they had left her.
Once again her world seemed to crash around her as she replaced the receiver even as Jeeves continued to speak as if anything made any difference any more.

It was not until much later that she realised he must have called back on the house line and informed Miles of events and that regrettably her presence was required up at the house as soon as possible. Like an automaton she allowed a bath to be drawn, an outfit to be laid out for her and moved in a daze as she was dressed and prepared to attend initial interviews which were to take place at the house.

How she would live through the ordeal she had no idea.
She was supposed to be a friend of the family, an acquaintance.
An outpouring of grief would be … inappropriate … especially for a woman who might be charitably described as “unemotional”.

And so it was that by the time Lady Ryecart arrived at the house, the rest of the family members and guests were already assembled and the Detective present …