You would think that every December would go well. Children writing to Saint Nicholas, decorating trees, families getting together, Christmas carolers going door to door. But this Christmas of 1915 didn't go as planned in the little town of Hackney. It is true that the sound of Christmas was present, but something didn't feel right. In fact, it had been three years that Hackney was under the threat of a new sort of "Ebeneezer Scrooge". This man was despicable and so was his wife.
Every year since they came to town the same mysterious person came to the party they always organised for Christmas and always tried to kill them, with no luck. The first time was food poisoning with holly. The second stabbing and the third was to try and burn down the manor. Every time they both survived, unlike the guests to whom they were talking to.
But this time around they asked to have money for their protection. By asking the town folks to give them money because to Mr and Mrs Bloodstone it was their fault if someone wanted them dead. The war was everywhere and most of the men in the town left for France to help out. The mysterious figure became a legend. A scary story told to naughty children at Christmas. They called him "Murder December". But what he did was not only attempt to kill the Bloodstones but to kill all that represents Christmas season.
A new inspector arrived in town, just in time for the Bloodstones party. He arrived at the town police station and was attributed to the "Bloodstones vs murder December" case. All the other policemen knew it was a cold case given to new bees as a joke. It was an impossible case to solve and all the town knew it. But that did not scare inspector Wood, who came straight out of Boston police. Mr Wood felt confident with this case. And decided to go look for any sort of clue he could find in the Bloodstones manor.
He arrived in front of these huge gates with gold detailing. Something to be found very usual for rich Americans but Wood had never seen such beauty in something so cold. A bit like the greeting he received by Mr Bloodstone. His wife, on the other hand, tried to stuff his face with this new French delicacy "amuse bouche". She told him her favourite quote from this young writer Virginia Wolf "one cannot think well, love well, sleep well if one has not dined well."
After that he asked if he could freely inspect the house, to find some clues. Mr Bloodstone gave a sigh of anger and left for his safe. His wife became cold again and gave him a bad look and just responded: "go ahead but mind the precious things and the silver wear. I just got new vases all the way from China."
Mr Wood went to the main living room, closely followed but Mrs Bloodstone. He went by the piano where placed photo frames were. He picked one up and turned to Mrs Bloodstone and said: "are those your sons?" showing the picture. She then replied: "yes, they were young in this one.
"And where are they now?" the inspector inquired.
"Garrett is in Teddington but he will be here for the party and Warren is..." she dragged.
And she stopped. You could see in her eyes that something had happened to him. But Wood insisted and continued asking her what happened. She answered roughly.
"He died in our first house fire in 1900, Christmas Eve." she brushed the event off as if it were nothing.
"So fifteen years ago, day for day on the day of the party." inspector Wood pushed.
"Yes, indeed."
"Garrett and Warren look a lot alike, are they twins?" was the next question.
"No, but they do look fairly similar but Garrett is four years older than his brother." Mrs Bloodstone stated.
"And how old is he now?" Wood asked turning around, glancing around the living room.
"Forty years of age." She added.
"So if my calculations are correct, that would make him twenty-five at the time of death of your son Warren? Right?" he pushed once more
"Yes. Stop with your questions! Are you saying that one of my sons may be behind all that is happening to us for the past three years!" Mrs Bloodstone yelled appalled.
"I need to look at all the possibilities. It may be the truth, who knows." Wood spoke, a hint of tease in his words.
"That's preposterous! You may now leave my household. Good day to you sir!" Mrs Wood stood straighter sending Wood on his way.
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Short stories
Short StoryGo back in time, a century of two, and dive into these short stories. Would you have gotten away like they did with murder ? What would you have done in their place?