Who Did It?

It was a dark and stormy night. Rain pounded against the roof, the sound echoing through the hallways of the ancient house. The eyes of the paintings seemed to follow the dark figure pacing through those same hallways. He was a tall, young man, dressed unusually smart, covered almost completely with shadows. They watched him stop to turn and look over his shoulder once again as the lights mounted to the walls flickered. Slowly, he turned and began to walk again, his pace slightly more urgent. Only when he was half way through the hallway did he pause before a grand portrait of an older gentleman dressed almost identically to himself. His face held a grimace, his eyes revealed nothing but disappointment. The young man braced himself against the wall, staring accusingly into the painted eyes.

Suddenly, with a crash of thunder and lightning, the lights flickered once before going out completely. As soon as darkness enveloped the young man, another loud crack echoed in the hall. Then, in sequence, the sound of a gunshot pierced through the night, a chandelier crumbled to the floor with a crash, and a woman screamed, deeper in the house. Thunder rumbled once again, farther than it had been only a moment before. The lights slowly began to flicker back on. As they did, a horrible scene was revealed. Sean Gerringer was dead.

....

The professor stood in shock as he watched the smoke swirl up from the barrel of his gun. Though he couldn't see the house through the thickets of the forest, he had heard the crash of the window right after the defective gun had gone off. His mind swirled with anxious thoughts, most of which, at the time, were what Mrs. Wilson would do to him when she found the broken glass. He had come out, in the middle of the storm, to study the old colt that had come into possession of the Gerringers. It was a classic gun, and would most likely ensure him another grant if he could link it to his other research. Though he and Sean's family had been friends for a long time, the young man had refused his perusal of the rare gun.

Thus, the professor was forced to take it into the forest, barely sheltered by the small hunting stand, to examine it. It had never crossed his mind that the gun might still be functioning, nor that it would be loaded. But, with the smoke only just dissipated in the air, he was sure that his mistake would not be seen as such. Opening the chamber of the gun, he saw five more bullets locked snuggly in place, waiting patiently to be used. It had been his hope that he had only imagined the gun going off, but the missing bullet in the sixth chamber confirmed his fear. Embarrassment spread over him like a fire. Sean would surely kill him for not only stealing such a priceless piece of history, but also using it. He returned quickly to the house, praying that the shot that had been accidentally fired could not be heard through the thunder storm. It was only when he had entered the main hall, that a new fear began to form in the old man's mind. What if he had hit someone?

....

Mrs. Wilson stood crying in the kitchen, standing over a medicine bottle. Her throat burned from the scream that had been ripped from her body. How could she have been so careless? The young master had come to her right before the dinner party complaining of a headache. In her haste to finish the already disastrous dinner, she had quickly grabbed a bottle from the medicine cabinet, thinking it to be acetaminophen before pouring five pills into his waiting hands. She had then rushed back to the over-boiling pot. Behind her she heard a whispered thanks, a rush of water, and then a door closing. That moment had barely been a minute of her time in the chaos of the evening. If only she had not spent so long flirting with Mr. Brooks.

After she had served dinner graciously, everyone complimented her on her excellent cooking, and no one was the wiser of the mayhem that had taken place to get it on the table. She knew the party had been delightful. From her spot in the corner of the room, she watched with a smile as the entire group laughed with each other, clearly enjoying each other's company. Mrs. Wilson held only a slight concern for her poor master Sean, who, at the head of the table, was clearly paler than usual. Still, a smile was placed firmly on his face for the entirety of the evening. In the end, she thought nothing more of it than she would have his other headaches.