My Murder Mystery Story
Forks and Chickens
by Maddie Armstrong
“Mail’s
here!” announced my boyfriend of three years, Ryan as he dropped a stack of
mail on the table by my elbow. I sat at the computer, typing away, trying to
finish a scathing review of a restaurant I had visited the night before. That’s
kinda my job, I have a food column in the local newspaper. Restaurant reviews,
health trends, recipes, you name it.
Oh,
sorry, I guess I should introduce myself. The name is Penelope Jacobson, Penny
for short. Anyway, I grabbed the envelope on the top of the pile. It was
addressed to me and Ryan. I ripped open the envelope and found an invitation
inside. Ryan and I were invited to a dinner party at a large cabin known as
“Forks and Chickens” . It was supposed to be huge with tons of rooms and really
good food.
“This
place….is huge” I gasped as, on the day of the dinner party, Ryan and I entered
the living room of Forks and Chickens. Four other guests had arrived, a clown,
a lady who wore an outfit with a major cupcake theme going on and my friend
from a fish market that I review sometimes. He’s a fishmonger and his name is
Fredrick, really nice guy. Oh, and there was a girl about my age who was
excitedly telling the clown about her singing telegram job.
The
cupcake lady flounced over to me, stuck out her hand and said, “Hi there, my
name is Colette and I make cupcakes for a living. I run a cupcake place, here’s
my card!” She then handed me a card that read, “Colette’s Cupcake Delites” and
some other information about the location and hours and such. I didn’t really
bother to read it.
Ryan
whispered in my ear as Colette turned on her heel and flounced happily away to
introduce herself to another guest, “Is it me or did her breath smell like
cupcakes” I replied, “Nope, I smelled it too. Doesn’t she seem little cheery?” Ryan nodded and stuffed his
hands into his pockets.
The
next person to approach us was my friend Fredrick. He wore his fishing overalls
and his floppy fishing hat. He asked, “So, Penny, did you finish your article
about that restaurant you really hated?” I nodded and replied, “Yep, I finished
it late last night and sent it off to Edwin, my editor”
Frederick
said, “Cool beans. Here, have a balloon animal” He pointed his thumb over his
shoulder and continued, as he handed me a purple balloon dog, “Chesney the Clown
over there is making free balloon animals. It’s like he’s obsessed with it” The
fishmonger rolled his eyes.
I
asked, “You seem to know everyone’s names. Whose the singing telegram girl?
What’s her story?” Frederick replied, “Her name is Sarah and she’s a singing
telegram girl, she goes door-to-door singing fruit songs in the form of a
telegram. Her favorite song, by the way is “Apples and Bananas”. Truthfully, I
thought it would be, “Fruit Salad”
As I
played with my balloon dog, he went on, “Oh, and I forgot to mention that she’s
highly allergic to strawberries. She ate a whole strawberry shortcake at a
birthday once, not knowing yet that she was allergic and she had to get her
stomach pumped, she says it was a near-death experience” Ryan and I nodded. I
felt sorry for the girl because I like strawberries and wouldn’t be able to
live without eating them.
I
asked, “So, uh, have you seen the host anywhere? I thought he would have showed
up by now” Frederick shrugged and replied, “I’m guessing it would be the owner
of the place, Mr. Periwinkle, but I know for a fact that he won’t show up.
Nobody knows what he looks like” I sighed. Since this was an eating
establishment, I wanted to interview him for an article.
Just
then, a voice boomed out over an unseen intercom, “Ladies and Gentleman,
welcome to my little dinner party. I am glad you could all be here tonight to
celebrate my 73rd anniversary of the day Forks and Chickens opened.
Unfortunately, I cannot be with you tonight. I am highly contagious and I don’t
want to get you all sick”
The
voice continued, “Let me introduce myself. My name is Charles Periwinkle and I
am the owner of this fine establishment. My grandfather opened Forks and
Chickens on this night 73 years ago. Before he passed away, he handed down
ownership to my father who eventually passed it on to me” I held back a giggle.
Forks and Chickens was starting to sound like a funny name for the place.
Before
I could mention this to Ryan, Mr. Periwinkle went on, “It will be awhile before
food is served, so feel free to explore every square inch of Forks and
Chickens. Don’t try anything mischievous as I have the ability to see into
every room and every hallway” I sighed and muttered to Ryan, “There go our
plans to raid the place and leave it bare and empty”
Mr.
Periwinkle boomed, “I heard that, Miss Penelope Jacobson. You had better be
joking about your plans to raid Forks and Chickens” I replied, “I’m sorry Mr.
uh Periwinkle, and yes, I was joking” He answered, “Very good, thank you. Now
go off and explore, I will let you and the guests know when the food is ready
to be served”
Ten
minutes later, Ryan and I were peeking into a room stuffed full of old wooden
chairs when we heard a scream echo through the house. I grabbed Ryan’s hand and
said, “C’mon, let’s go see who screamed. I think I know where it came from” We
ran down the hallway.
Pretty
soon, we came upon a room, which was bare except for a large table with a
folding chair sitting behind it. Slumped over in the chair was Sarah the
singing telegram. On the table in front of her sat a half-eaten strawberry
shortcake. Ryan muttered as I checked for a pulse, “She just couldn’t resist,
could she?”
I
glanced up at him and said, “Ryan, there’s no pulse. I think her allergy to
strawberries is what killed her. I’m not sure how. Maybe I don’t want to know”
Ryan
nodded and then said, his eyes on the cake, “Yeah, but that strawberry
shortcake DOES look good” Frowning at him, I snapped, “Ryan, we are trying to
solve a mystery here. We do not have time to eat cake” I then looked sadly down
at the singing telegram girl who I never got to meet.
Deciding
to leave her there, I said, hooking my arm through Ryan’s, “Well, lets’ explore
more of Forks and Spoons, shall we?” Ryan nodded again, took one last longing
look at the cake and then we left the room, which started smelling like
strawberries and got me craving strawberry shortcake.
As we
walked down the hallway, there was a loud rumble of thunder, which made the
floor under our feet shake. Lightning lit the hallway and then rain began
pounding on the roof above our heads. I shivered and moved closer to Ryan for
warmth. He wrapped a warm hand around my shoulders and kissed the side of my
head.
Another
ten minutes later, we were peeking into a room, which was stuffed to the
rafters with rubber chickens when we were startled by the magnified sound of a
balloon popping somewhere at the other end of the cabin. I shuddered. I hate
the sound of a balloon popping.
Ryan
muttered as I grabbed his hand and broke out into a run down the hallway, as if
my life depended on it, “Here we go again” The whole time we were running to
find the source of the sound, I was trying to figure out how Sarah could have
been given the strawberry shortcake in the first place.
Finally,
we came upon another bare room, this time, we found Chesney the Clown lying
face-up in the middle of the concrete floor. I hurried over and knelt beside
him to check his pulse. Ryan said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “It
appears he was trying to blow up a really big balloon, but ran out of
breath” I nodded.
This
made sense because his face, under the normal clown makeup, was blue from lack
of oxygen. In his right gloved hand, he had been clutching a large, but empty
balloon. Next to his other hand were the broken pieces of a balloon and a pin,
which was probably used to pop the balloon in the first place.
I
looked sadly up at Ryan and said, “Chesney has no pulse. Hand me my notepad and
pen, please” Ryan took a notepad and pen from the inside pocket of the blazer
he wore and handed both to me. I began scribbling down notes, trying to find a
connection between Chesney the Clown and Sarah the Singling Telegram Girl.
As I
examined the clown, I noticed the Forks and Chicken logo stamped on his
forehead. The logo was a picture of a fork and the outline of a chicken
criss-crossing each other. I tried to rub it off, but it seemed to be
permanent. I sighed sadly. I had been meaning to ask Chesney to make me a
balloon cat to go with my balloon dog.
Ryan
knelt beside me, took a closer look at Chesney’s forehead, frowned and asked,
running his fingers over the logo, “Hey, isn’t this the same logo that was
stamped on Sarah’s hand?” I nodded, remembering this, and then wrote it down. I
now had a connection between the two victims. Hmm, maybe it was a clue of some
sort!
After
I sat there for a few minutes, trying to figure out the mystery, Ryan poked me
in the shoulder and said, “You know, I’m not entirely comfortable around
clowns, they kinda creep me out, can we get outta here?” Sighing, I replied,
taking one last look at the comatose clown, “Okay, I have to discuss this with
Frederick anyway. He’s really good at solving mysteries”
Once
we stepped out in the hallway, Ryan inhaled deeply, rubbed his stomach, smiled
and commented, “Yum, I smell tuna fish! I bet someone is making a tune fish
sandwich somewhere in this cabin” Wrinkling my nose at the horrid smell, I
replied, following the smell down the hallway, “Frederick loves tuna fish
sandwiches, it’s his favorite thing to eat out on his boat”
Ryan
asked, “That reminds me, you keep calling Frederick a fishmonger, what the heck
is a fishmonger anyway?” I replied, as we followed the scent around the corner
and down another barren hallway, “I think it’s some old fashioned name for a
person who catches fish and sells them at fish markets. I like calling him a
fishmonger because it’s fun to say”
After
going down two flights of stairs, and down three hallways, we found the source
of the tuna fish sandwich smell. It lead us into a room, similar to the one in
which we found Chesney the clown and Sarah the Singing Telegram Girl. I spotted Frederick slumped over as he sat at a table.
In
front of him was a plate with the remains of
tuna fish sandwich on it. Fear stabbed at my stomach as I ran over and
frantically tried to see if my beloved fishmonger was still alive. Alas, he
wasn’t and upon closer examination of the remains of the tuna fish sandwich,
the sandwich had been poisoned, which, in turn had been the cause of death for
Frederick the Fishmonger.
Once
turning over his right hand, I found the Forks and Chickens logo permanently
stamped on his palm. I would never again be able to joke around with my good
fish market friend. He was the only person besides Ryan who understood and
accepted my hatred of seafood.
With
sad tears running down my face, I said to Ryan, “I want to take a break from
chasing this mystery around and mourn my friend while exploring the cabin. I
think Frederick would have wanted me to do that. Why oh why did he have to
succumb to eating a tuna fish sandwich that was just out there on the table?”
Ryan had no answer to this last question.
While
exploring the large, many-roomed cabin, we found lots of strange rooms with
strange items stored inside. In my opinion, the strangest room we explored had
to be the one with a rather huge collection of Teddy bears. There were too many
Teddy bears in one place for my taste. I had to get out of there very quickly.
The
next room we entered, we ended up getting lost in. Basically, it was a room
full of odds and ends. Someone had carefully crafted a path to get through the
room in one piece and since my curiosity got the best of me, like it sometimes
does, I dragged Ryan down the path and decided to see if the path would lead
back to where we started.
“Who
in their right mind would want to own a bunch of mannequin heads?” muttered
Ryan as he picked up a mannequin head by it’s long red tresses. The blank
staring eyes were creeping me out, so I replied, taking the head from him and
placing it back in the large bin with the others, “I have no idea, but they
creep me out”
As we
continued our way down the winding path, I started smelling the delicious scent
of freshly baked (and frosted) cupcakes. My stomach started growling with
hunger and I knew I wanted a cupcake, so I decided to let the cupcake smell
lead me down the correct path to get out of the room.
The
cupcake scent must have been somewhat magical because, just as I predicted, it
led me out of the room and back into the barren hallway. Ryan followed closely
behind, muttering something about women and their strange cravings for cupcakes
at the oddest of times. I was too busy following the scent to even respond to
him.
Finally,
the cupcake smell led us into the large kitchens where on a stainless steel
table sat a tray of brightly frosted cupcakes. I reached for one, but Ryan
pushed my hand away, saying “Careful, they might be poisoned. I really don’t
want to lose you, Penelope Jacobson” I smiled at his kind words.
“You
should really try one of these cupcakes, Penny, they’re really good” chirped
the all-too-familiar voice of Collette, the cupcake maker, who had seemingly
appeared from nowhere. She had a half-eaten cupcake in her hand and frosting on
her lips, which went unnoticed by her.
Before
we could warn her about the cupcakes that might have been poisoned, she said,
the cupcake dropping from her hands and landing frosting side down on the
kitchen floor, “The world is growing darker” Her eyes rolled back in her head
and she fell backwards. Ryan rushed over and caught her just before her head
could hit the floor.
Smirking
at me, he said, gently leaning the cupcake girl against the door to the walk-in
freezer, “I told you they were poisoned! They were obviously meant for
Collette, since she loves cupcakes so much” Smiling at this insight, I clicked
my fingers and said, beginning to pace up and down in front of the table,
nearly stepping on the fallen cupcake, “Good deduction skills, Detective Ryan”
Just
then, Mr. Periwinkle’s voice said in my ear, “Have you solved the mystery yet,
Miss Jacobson? Come and find me in the basement if you want to find out” I
looked this way and that, but there was no way the voice could have spoken in
my ear.
Taking
Ryan’s hand, I said, “We gotta get to the basement. Mr. Periwinkle just told me
to meet him there” Ryan asked, “What if it’s a trap?” . I had no time to stop
and consider the risks. I wanted to find out the mystery and I wanted to find
out as soon as possible, or at least before I became the next victim.
When we
arrived in the basement, which was dark, except for a single spotlight in the
middle of the room, Mr. Periwinkle’s voice boomed, “Please take a seat” just as
two metal folding chairs appeared in the middle of the room. My guess was that
this guy was capable of magic.
Ryan
and I sat down in the chairs. Mr. Periwinkle’s voice said, “Now, let me reveal
myself, so you can see exactly who you are speaking with” Out of the shadows
walked, or rather limped, a tall man in a bright purple tracksuit. A gold name
tag pinned to the jacket read, “Charles Periwinkle”.
Holding
up what looked like a giant stamping device, he asked, “Do you know what this
is?” I replied, “It looks like a giant stamping device” Nodding and smiling,
the man answered, twirling the device in his hands, “Precisely, it is my own
invention. It stamps my own personal logo onto bare skin, permanently” I didn’t
dare ask if this hurt because it probably did hurt.
He
continued, “Now, I am going to give you a choice. If you sit nice and still
through out my speech, I will snap my fingers and you will wake up, realizing
that this is all a dream, or if you ask too many questions and are not
cooperating, I will poison you and you will forever have the Forks and Chickens
logo imprinted on your forehead, for all of eternity” His face was so close to
mine, I could feel his warm breath on my face.
I
stammered, my eyes on the scary stamp device, “Um, I’ll sit nice and still and
I won’t ask too many questions” Smiling maliciously, Mr., Periwinkle said,
“Good, now I will start my speech” There was a nice long pause before he began,
“I am the one who put the stamps on all five of the visitors as sort of a
parting gift from me to them”
Sitting
bolt upright, I asked, “Why did you get rid of them one by one? They are
innocent people!” Mr. Periwinkle replied, “:Be quiet and let me explain, silly
girl! Now, when I was planning this little dinner party, I decided to let my
foolish assistant make up the guest list. He wanted a clown, a cupcake maker, a
food columnist (and her boyfriend), a fishmonger, whatever the devil that is,
and a insipid singing telegram girl, who only performs songs about fruit” He
was practically spitting with anger.
Pacing
back and forth, he continued, “After firing the assistant, I sent out the
invitations. While you were all in the living room, I listened to your
conversations and figured out each of your weaknesses. The clown seemed to be
addicted to making balloons, the singing telegram girl was allergic to
strawberries and once had her stomach pumped because she so stupidly at an
entire strawberry shortcake. The list goes on. I don’t wish to bore you with
the rest”
He
went on, “Before letting you roam about the castle, I set up rooms to attract
each of the dinner guests. In one room, I had a large balloon for the clown to
try and inflate with his breath, in another, I had a strawberry shortcake for
the singing telegram girl to consume. I poisoned this shortcake, so that not
only would the allergic reaction make her sick, the poison would make the
allergic reaction deadly” He let out an evil laugh.
I
asked, “If I may, sir, why did you kill off each visitor? You must have had
some sort of motive?” Mr. Periwinkle cackled, “Of course I did! First of all, I
hate clowns, I am annoyed by singing telegram girls. Secondly, I despise the
smell of fish and fishmongers always stink of fish, no matter how hard they try
to wash it off” He made a face.
He
continued, “Thirdly, that Collette girl was way too bubbly and obviously keeps
her energy level high by eating her own cupcakes. By the way, cupcakes disgust
me. I hate them! Too much sugar!” He shuddered at the very thought of cupcakes.
I then asked, after counting on my fingers, “That leaves me and my boyfriend,
what do you want with us?”
Suddenly
brightening, he said, “Oh, I was saving the two of your for last. You see, I
read your food column every week and I need you to write a review of “Forks and
Chickens” Hardly anyone comes out here. My guess is that nobody really knows
about it and if you write a glowing review, then people would be flocking here
and business would be booming!” He threw his arms up in the air for emphasis.
Raising
my eyebrows, I asked, “Let me get this straight, you killed off everyone else
except me and Ryan, just so you could get a review of Forks and Chickens to get
more customers?” Shrugging, the villain replied, “Well, I had my own reasons
for killing the others, but all I really need is more business. I’m lonely
here!” I felt a reluctant tug on my
heartstrings. Is this what he wanted?
Folding
my fingers, I asked, “If you let me and my boyfriend go, I will write a glowing
review of Forks and Chickens. As long as you try not to kill off all your
customers just because they annoy you in some shape or form” Smiling, Mr.
Periwinkle replied, “I promise. I will even call for a limo to take you back to
your apartment”
He
held up a finger and said, “Well, of course, to write a great review, you’ll
have to try the food. Before I send you off in the limo, you must sit down for
dinner. I promise I won’t poison the food. Trust me, I only poisoned the
strawberry shortcake, the tuna sandwich and the cupcake because, well, I’ve
already explained all that”
As
much as I hated to admit it, I was really beginning to trust this guy. I guess
he had forgotten all about snapping his fingers and pretending this was all a
dream, or maybe that was just a bribe to get me to sit and listen to his speech
about how he was the person behind all the “murders” (as you wish to call
them).
For
dinner at Forks and Chickens, I had the specialty, a crispy chicken sandwich
with extra crispy fries and the most delicious lemonade I’d ever tasted in my
life. For dessert, I had a frosted cupcake, a milkshake and a brownie. Ryan
opted for a tuna fish sandwich, fries, lemonade and a brownie for dessert.
When
we arrived home, I sat right down at my computer and typed out the most glowing
review I could ever give on Forks and Chickens. Soon after my review was
published in the newspaper, Mr. Periwinkle got more business than he ever imagined.
The
End!
