Feb-17 Annon-100 The real deal.

[hopewrites]

Welcome to the classic 100 word anonymous challenge.
To participate, please start a conversation with the host, with 100 and or annon in the title.

Entries will be posted here by me to keep their authors identities secret.

Please have all entries in to the host by 6pm PST February 25th (which is 1am 2/26 GMT for those doing the math last minute.)
I'll have the final entries posted by 10pm PST that night and open the voting (for which it is important to include a title for your entry.)


Theme: Love (unrequited or otherwise)
Genre: murder mystery



Voting will close March 3rd (time to be announced in the voting thread) guessing may continue till someone's midnight on the 4th. Then I'll reveal the authors.


Please remember not to like or comment in this thread, but feel free to review, speculate, and/or discuss the entries in the discussion thread. (February 100 anonymous discussion)

 

[hopewrites]

Greater Love Hath No Man

Harrington Bly drowned in a shallow stream. Jeffrey Madrigan, amateur sleuth, had never faced a stranger case. The elderly billionaire had slow-acting poison in his tissues.

"Two murderers, or an impatient one?" Inspector Harcourt shivered in the icy morgue.

"Neither," Madrigan said. "Bly's corpse was surrounded by soft mud, and there were no footprints but his own. He took his own life."

"But why? He could have told us who was trying to kill him."

"He didn't want us to know. Bly was a humanitarian, and this state has capital punishment. He didn't want his killer to die."

 

[hopewrites]

A Crime Of Passion.

“I alone, Hercules Parrot, have solved this case. The murderer is... Madame Roget!” he exclaimed, swinging round and pointing an accusing finger. “You will hang!”

*disbelieving gasps*

“No! I am innocent!” protested Madame Roget, as the gendarmes dragged her from her husband's side and towards the waiting police vehicle.

“Monsieur Roget,” said Parrot, drawing him privately to one side and draping an arm around his shoulder, “perhaps you would permit me to console you on the loss of your wife by inviting you for a meal at my apartment this evening? Just the two of us you understand, mon ami...”

 

[hopewrites]

Her Felonious little plans.


“Dere’s a new boss in town dey say, and dis young pup ’d been foolin’ wid his bit of fluff.
Stupid mutt had it coming if da stories are true.“

“So who’s this new boss, Lenny?”

“No-one know, detective. Least ways dey ain’t sayin. But the old heads are scared. Real scared.”

I went home that evening, tired and depressed. I’d learned nothing. But my sugar was waiting for me there.

Elsa looked up from the pile of silk cushions where she reclined.
She winked slowly.”You are my slave” she purred. ”and shall always remain so.”

 

[hopewrites]

Mistaken


Harry sobbed.

The others huddled in quiet conversation.

Detective Sharkey cleared his throat for attention. “Why did Lady Billingham have to die? It was all about love and money.” He turned sharply toward Harry. “Wasn’t it, Lord Billingham!”

Gasps. Harry looked up, shocked.

“Oh, yes,” the Detective continued. “He killed his wife so he could be with Mariette, whom he loves; but he could not chance to lose his fortune in a nasty divorce!”

“That’s nonsense!” Mariette demanded. “Why, I don’t love him!”

“You don’t?” Harry said, looking stricken.

“Of course not!”

“Oh God!” Harry wailed. “What have I done!”

 

[hopewrites]

Star Crossed Sleuth


Romeo lay on a table of stone, his cheeks blushing like the roses which dressed it but no breath escaped his lips.

Juliet kissed him, tears grasped her lashes as suspects slinked through her mind. Who would kill her fair Romeo...?

'Was it the deed of a lone wolf like Tybalt. Or the poison of twin snakes Sampson and Gregory?'

Juliet grabbed a bottle that had fallen to the side, taking a swallow. She'd vowed to stop drinking, but you don't work a case like this dry.

She rolled the sour vintage on her tongue, checking the label.

'Oh ...'

 

[hopewrites]

Alan Millstone, Fight For Your Life!
(An Interactive Thriller)

Please Procure:
Two peaches;
Decanter;
Necktie;
Four sleeping pills...
...
...

Chew pills – wait ten minutes...
...
...
Read:

I believed in sharing with those we loved. I’d just named Greta – that impeccable peach, my darling bride *squeeze fruit* – my estate’s sole inheritor.
##

We thrash around my study, hands circling each other’s throats. The intruder’s horrifically strong, and forces me against the credenza. *smash decanter* Was beloved Greta watching still, or away ringing help?

Damned distractions – he breaks my hold. Fingers *cinch tie TIGHTLY about your neck* squeeze the breath from me. My consciousness fades...

...wait! Greta’s voice!

“Isn’t he dead yet, Roger?” *TIGHTER!!*

 

[hopewrites]

Ben, the Two of Us

My first dad fell from scaffolding. Ben tried to save him, but he says he was too late.

Ben became my second dad. He always keeps me safe. Even when Mommy sent him away, he snuck through my window to protect me from monsters.

Since mommy died, I've lived with Ben because the police arrested my third dad, Gregg. They say Gregg ate her face.

Yesterday, I peaked through Ben's shed window and saw Mommy staring at me. I haven't been near the shed since and I'm too scared to tell Ben what I saw. He'll think I'm lying.

 

[hopewrites]

Love’s Letters Lost

His wife swung gently from the ceiling, a crumpled letter sitting on the floor. Inspector Duvac barely registered it. His gaze was transfixed by those pale slender hands. Hands he had kissed as he bid her farewell, heading for work. He fiddled with the ring, her ring, in his pocket. A slender gold band, set with a small diamond.

It was a long time before he read the letter. Reading how he, Inspector Duvac, no longer loved her? He read on. Unbelieving. Nauseous. In one hand, a letter he’d never written, in the other, a ring she’d never worn.

 

[hopewrites]

Daddy’s Little Girl


Hector walked into the kitchen and screamed. Congealed blood pooled around the body of his new wife. Not again! The police will never believe I had nothing to do with it this time.

Daisy entered the room.

“Quick,” said Hector. “Get the shower curtain, we need to take her to the lake. The police can’t find her here.”

“Ok, Daddy. Will we be moving again?”

“Yes, baby. I’m so sorry. In your nine years you’ve been through so much. Losing your mum, then Katie and now Carol. I don’t understand what’s happening!”

Daisy turned away and grinned.

 

[hopewrites]

I Love My Job

I love the weird hours and the taste of coffee at 3:00am.

I love tracing the trajectories from bullet holes and wounds, inferring the position of the killer.

I love standing where he stood and holding my gun just so. I try to think like him and I usually get my man.

But, darling, I loved you more. Whoever did this to you destroyed me too. I try to do my job, but I'm stuck. Every time I point my gun just so, my heart breaks.

Forgive me, my love, but I know not whodunnit.

 

[hopewrites]

For the Love of the Pink Panther


"Dreyfus, is the murderer!"

"No. I didn't kill Inspector Clouseau. I... am Clouseau."

"A mask?!"

"Chief Inspector Dreyfus, was disguised as me."

"Then who killed, Dreyfus?"

"It was...Madam Grouselicker!"

"Brouseliter."

"The, same. Dreyfus, hired her, to kill me. I dressed Dreyfus like me, while he slept. But, I fell asleep too. However, my trap, worked. This case, is sallvad."

"I thought you loved me?"

"I do. I'd kiss you all over, but everyone's watching. Money is your true love."

"But.."

"Save your butt for prison, my darling. After your 100 year sentence, with good behavior, I will marry you."

 

[hopewrites]

Time Loves a Mystery

Two skeletons were found in a Jurassic era archeological dig. They were human, and they were holding hands.

"Inconceivable!" muttered Professor Henry Bingle, hurrying from the train station to his brother's home.

Jasper Bingle ushered his brother into his study. Behind closed doors, Henry revealed the nature of his visit.

Jasper didn't blink. "I wonder why you have come to me with this astonishing discovery."

"How are your time travel experiments progressing?"

"Still highly experimental."

"On a personal note, I haven't seen your wife lately."

"Visiting relatives."

"Have you any further proof of her suspected indiscretions?"

"Nothing, dear brother."

 

[hopewrites]

From the Secret Notes of Dr. Bradley Campbell, Criminal Psychologist, February 14, 2017

My assessment of Blatty, prime suspect in multiple homicides, is almost complete.

He is truly deranged.

Also, I think he's very sexy.

I know it's wrong. But when he stares at me with that piercing gaze, his stubbled cheek twitching in an endearing manner, I can't help but flutter with desire.

Dammit, I'm a married man. I work for the Feds. I shouldn't be falling in love with a serial killer, even if he is hot.

Especially one known as 'the Widowmaker', whose victims were all married...

But I'm different.

He wants me.

I can see it in his eyes.

 

[hopewrites]

A Shot to the Heart

“But you already have the culprit, Sergeant?” She smiles, spreading those cherry-red lips wide. Nice try.

“Cupid? Heart-shaped arrows are surprisingly easy to track down, but then you knew that.”

She attempts to look indignant. My turn.

“Poor sap. Do anything for love, that one. Almost fooled us, too, but for a tip off from a friend of yours. Hades? Turns out our John Doe says Aphrodite wanted him dead.”

“There must be some mistake, Sergeant. My name is Venus.”

“Aphrodite, Venus, whatever you’re calling yourself these days…”

Turns out they’re right.

“...you’re under arrest.”

Love is cruel.

 

[hopewrites]

The alternative

Alice's brow contorted into a gathering of folds as she wallowed in the guilt of her own reflection. A deep and uncontrollable sob that sucked in an involuntary whimper escaped her to her own surprise.

Robbie, as she recalled his frenetic death vividly, had not only lost his mind some forty million miles from Earth, he'd been messing around with her; that whore.

"Both of them had it coming," Alice resolved to herself as a trembling hand enlivened by adrenalinin rolled a damp blood-sodden clump of hair behind her ear and justified her frenzy to herself.

"Both of them."

 

[hopewrites]

Body of Evidence


They’ll catch my murderer, they will. I’ve made sure of that.

She just couldn’t live without me, see?

Here’s this letter I wrote her, sayin’ it was over between us.

Guess it was too much for her.

Here’s the poison she bought. Rat poison, do it good.

This is the dinner she put it in, my favorite, chicken, mashed taters ’n’ gravy.

’Course she had to eat, too, make it look good.

That was yesterday.

Don’t she look peaceful lyin’ there where she went to be with me?

Here’s her letter, tellin’ how she done it.

Guess I’ll eat now.

 

[hopewrites]

Et Tu Brute?


Where did it go wrong? My people love me, despite CNN, but I'm bleeding out on the steps of the White House. Those Secret Service guys are trying to staunch my wounds, but still my life drains away.

What's this? Another blow to my chest?

"Is he dead?"

"No sir. He's awake and aware."

"Good. I want him to know who did this to him."

"He's trying to speak, Mr Vice President."

"What's that? Ha! Who'd have thought he could quote Shakespeare? Didn't even think he could read. Here, pass me the knife. This one's for Vladimir, Mr President."

 

[hopewrites]

Death of the handyman John Smith

Everyone hates the handyman John Smith. Hated, I should say - he’s been pushing up weeds these past six months.

When the time came to hunt down his killer, Sheriff Eric Barnes approached his task with a somewhat diminished desire for justice. Most folks sympathized - the handyman got what he deserved.

Motives were plenty, suspects everywhere. So many, in fact, that the murder of John Smith nearly worked Sheriff Barnes to death.

Just this last week they called the investigation over. Unsolved. The sheriff took stress leave. I went about my business, and tried not to look too relieved.

 

[hopewrites]

That's All She Wrote....

Now go vote!