My Dear Sweet Murder-A Murder Most Unladylike Fanfic

Alexander

George paced around the room impatiently. "No," he murmured. "We've done her." He began muttering under his breath far too quiet for me to hear, while counting off his fingers. "We've missed someone! Aargh!"

  I eyed George's raised arms, evident of his frustration. "Well, let's think George. Martha, tick, Honey, tick...Oh, I know! John!"

  "The butler?"

  "Yes." I nodded. "And he seems even more important, now that Ms Haulings also brought him up to the girls."

  George slumped his arms down warily. "But the girls said that Ms Haulings was just springing bullocks out of her mouth."

  "How are we supposed to know if we don't see for ourselves? Please, George. He's the last one to interview anyway." I gave my best puppy-dog eyes (well, I tried) and my best friend sighed.

  "Fine," he said. "We'll go at once."

A while had passed before any of us spoke. John sat disapprovingly, glaring at us, while George pretended to admire the pictures on the wall and I pretended to adjust my notepad.

  "Oi," John the butler barked. "Stop looking at my niece like that."

  George startled, then seemed to remember what we were here for. "Mr..."

  "Clarion."

  "John Clarion," said George finally. "We've come in hope that you'll perhaps aid us in our investigation."

  John snorted. "Oh, I know who killed her all right. The both of them. Her and him. It was the best friend."

  George nodded for him to continue. 

  "Lurking in the shadows. It was out of spite, I tell you!" John wagged his finger, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "The Asian one killed 'em both. Out of spite," he repeated.

  "Like how you chased Alice out of spite?"

  "Do not utter the devil's name! And yes, maybe I did chase her, try to get a little bit of my own revenge..." He licked his lips.

  I cringed as George stared at him dumbfounded.

  "Uh, anyway." George shook his head. "You chased her with a knife. Were you trying to kill her?"

  John sized us up and gleefully said, "Yes."

  I didn't know whether to run out of the house screaming "Police!", or to risk my life and find out more information from the maniac sitting in front of us.

  "I'm gay," John continued. "Now if you think about it, not many would take in someone like me.  But I needed a little bit of work to keep going through life. Until, that is, I die." He cackled this time.

  "Annie supported me dearly. Ha, who would've thought? A rich, young lady in the upper-classes of Eastfield, going against what is considered 'normal' in society? I would've laughed in your face. But her, oh yes, that one, she didn't like the attention on me, oh no she didn't! I could clearly tell that she was only Annie's friend for the status. Of course," John said, while smoothing down his hair, "Annie was smarter than that."

  "You think that's when the racist stuff started happening?"

  "You know what I think?" John asked, turning the tables on us. "I think that you, my boy, need some counselling. Your unlucky behind has obviously gotten spat on. Curse the boys who have treated you like that."

  I could tell George was moved. Before he could say something even more emotional and empathetic than what John said, I intervened. 

  "Sorry, but, could you answer the question? I'm not trying to be rude, but we're quite short on time."

  John eyed me suspiciously. "Hush up white boy." He turned back to George kindly. "Now, now, Annie needed to defend herself; Alice obviously wanted her reputation. Alice wanted to be part of us, the white! Not a foreigner.

  "But did she know she would get so infuriated? I'd like to think not. But in all seriousness, yes, and that's why she found it easy to just murder her. Then, after she murdered Annie, she went for the husband. The husband must've known something."

  John took a sip of some old English tea. "I can't believe you detectives, old or young, short or tall, haven't figured that out. Youse were beaten by a wrinkly, old man." He cackled again.

  "John," George said slowly. "Have you ever thought of other possibilities?"

  "Nope." The 'p' was popped.

  "Exactly," George said. "How are we supposed to figure out anything if we haven't looked at the situation from more than one pair of eyes?"

  John shrugged. "Because they lie and I tell the truth."

  "The time when you chased Alice," I announced. "Mr Blueberry was very much still alive. The next day, Alice was on board the Carrington II. She couldn't've killed him. The police in the case have already verified this piece of information. And besides, we found out Mr Blueberry died in an illegal boxing match. It had no relation to his wife's death."

  George took the man's silence as a response and took over from me. "Alice knows it was you who ran after her, because she went back to the scene of the crime and found out you'd dropped something. But she knows it wasn't you who killed Annie. It was someone else."

  "And who would that be?" John demanded, pursing his lips.

  We'd gotten the information from Daisy and Hazel. We'd gotten the same assumption from the girls.

  "Ms Haulings."