Lady Beryl’s Demise [Restart]

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Falcon, Oct 10, 2014.

  1. 1:00 a.m.

    The Fairview city chief of police sighed and ran both hands through his thinning hair. He felt like hitting his head against a wall, repeatedly. His jail was full tonight, and not with the usual thugs and Friday evening drunks. No, the patrons who currently occupied the cell block were none other than the costumed party guests of the woman commonly known around town as the mysterious owner of the house on Monarch drive. No one had ever even seen the woman; all business was done with the live in cook and housekeeper, Widow Jennings.

    “Is Mrs. Jennings all right?” the chief sighed trying desperately to keep his temper.
    “Shaken up, but physically unharmed.” A reedy detective answered in a rush. “She was hysterical when we finally got to the house, and she insisted on not staying there alone, which quite frankly I don’t blame her.”
    “Has she been able to provide any informa—“
    “Well, no,” the detective interrupted, “but we’ve got all the others. I reckon if we interrogate them each separately so they can’t keep talking over each other like they have been doing—“
    “Bring Mrs. Jennings in here.” The chief grunted. “I need to hear how things started. And bring her a cup of coffee or tea or something . . . poor woman.”


    5:00 p.m. - The night before.

    The afternoon was cold and foggy as the elderly woman known as Sarah Jennings waddled about the dining area, putting the last touches on the various trays of finger food that would stand in place of dinner. Each tray had its own place in the buffet line set up in the dinning room and there would be more than enough food for all the guests to eat their fill. Mrs. Jennings prided herself on her hospitality. Someone had to be hospitable, the other woman in the house was somewhat on the antisocial side.

    Still, the poor widow gladly performed the job she had to do that night. It wasn’t often she got entertainment such as this. A moment later the house other human occupant bustled into the room draped in chocolate and ocher satin, a little top hat pinned jauntily on top the false, brunette curls of her wig. A fitting costume, Irene Adler, on so many levels.

    “Mrs. Jennings,” The woman paused eyes an empty spot among the desserts on the table, “What happened to the double layered chocolate fudge cake? That was on the menu was it not?”

    “Oh don’t worry, Madam.” Widow Jennings tittered back, “There was just a bit of a brewha with one of the new bakery boys. They should be finished any moment now, and when I’m done with these garnishes I’ll just pop down to Fairview and get it. I’ll be back before any of the guests even decide they want dessert.”

    “All right, all right. I suppose I can handle them on my own for a bit.”

    “Of course you can dearie,” Widow Jennings carefully placed the last bit of parsley, wiped her hands on her apron and preceded the other woman into the kitchen. The old woman’s eyes didn’t miss the way the younger one’s hand clenched in her skirt for a moment. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible. You just do what you need to do, Madam.”

    “Mrs. Jennings, it is Lady Beryl tonight.”

    “Of course it is.” The elderly woman was gone a minute later, cell phone, oversized bag, and keys in hand. As the little white Subaru puttered down the drive the first drops of rain began to fall.

    5:15 p.m.

    The doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of the first guest.
    Gathering her skirts in hand, Lady Beryl swung the door wide, a broad smile plastered across her freckled face.
    “Welcome, welcome, do come in!”
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  2. Sister Pearl

    The door opens to reveal a rather average looking woman, cloaked in an ink black nun's habit. Her eyes shine with a glint of something. With a bow of her head and no words she glides past Lady Beryl and into the grand living room. She looks around, silent as a phantom. As the other guests file in she slips away to explore the rest of the house, her rosary beads clinking softly together in her hands. She walks into the kitchen, gliding through and lightly brushing her fingers over the counters. Then from the kitchen she goes to the dining area, looking at the food set out but never touching it. Her fingers run along the tables, dancing around the food and drinks.
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  3. "Really Howard, I'm fresh out of fucks about being late for this thing. If the two-bit tart wants to get upset, I need a new handbag," Lady Lazuli muttered, shifting her grip on her bag, which appeared to be a very cleverly-crafted woman's head, her necklace functioning as a strap. Lady Lazuli herself shifted in the backseat of the limo she was riding in, a fruitless endeavor considering that she and her dress took up most of it. The porcupine-esque quills of her dress clinked and rattled gently as the car ground to a halt and she sighed, pushing a blonde curl out of her face.
    "Well, let's hope tonight is fruitful. I hate it when parties are a drag," she said, wrestling herself out of the limo and heading up to the doors. She knocked impatiently, but when no one came she let herself in and on her way to the dining room passed by a young woman dressed as a flapper, smoking by an open window.
    "Move it or lose it," she growled, pushing past the girl and making her way into the dining room. She grinned crocodile grin at Lady Beryl and waved when she got into the room, tucking the grisly bag under her elbow.
    "Hello darling, interesting looking lot that's here. Especially the, er, rabbit. Really, what on earth? Some people," Lady Lazuli muttered, smoothing her dress down as she walked over to the rabbit and tapped its nose, looking into its eyes.
    "And what are you supposed to be, hm?"
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  4. Aquamarine stepped up to the large door, using one of her gloved bunny hands to knock. Lady Beryl opened to door, illuminating the steps on which Aquamarine stood.

    "Hello, you must Aquamarine." Said Lady Beryl. Aquamarine said nothing as she was ushered in to the large home. "The other two guests are waiting for you in the lounge, it would be wise to join them."

    She entered the lounge, her large bunny feet making no noise on the shiny floor. She shambled over to a tray set out, with small glasses of champagne. Picking one up, Aquamarine noticed a swish of black fabric as a woman in a nun habit seemed to be examining the trays of food. She then proceeded to spill champagne all over her bunny face as she pretended to drink it, watching the woman through the black soulless eyes of her bunny head. The bubbly drink pooled around her floppy feet, and she placed the empty glass back down with a echoing clink.

    Another woman approached her, bopping her plastic nose lightly, not noticing her wet suit. Aquamarine just rubbed her nose and mumbled something about being a rabbit.
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  5. The door was in the process of closing behind Aquamarine when a very well polished black limo pulled up in front of the mansion. A squat, bald driver hopped from the front passenger's seat and made his way to the rear, opening the door to allow Miss Opal to step out on to the driveway. She ran her hands along her sides to straighten out her sequined dress and adjusted the bun in her hair before placing her hat on her head.

    "Thank you, James." She said, waving her hand at the man. "Now kindly move along. I'll give a call when I'm ready to be picked up. And don't forget to pick up Arthur's dry cleaning on the way back."

    James nodded and made his way back to the car, closing the door as it began to drive away. Miss Opal jumped at the sound of the engine revving and mumbled to herself the entire journey to the door. Knocking loudly, she shrugged her fur coat slightly off of her shoulders as the door opened. Making no attempt to hide her surprise at the fact that Lady Beryl herself had answered the door, Opal's eyes darted across the beautifully painted walls of the room inside before she smiled sweetly to her host.

    "Lady Beryl? I'm Miss Opal, it's such a pleasure to meet you. I have to be honest, I would have expected someone else to answer the door. You know, a good hostess always entertains her guests."

    With a wink and a grin, Opal slipped past her hostess and made her way to the other guests, wasting no time in grabbing a drink and lighting a cigarette.
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  6. "A rabbit? How terribly, wonderfully tacky," Elle exclaimed quietly, wasting no time in taking the rabbit by the arm/paw and dragging her over to the table where she forced the lagomorphic guest to sit, pulling a chair up and sitting beside her. It had been, in part, a ploy to get away from the nun. Elle had no fond memories of the holy sisters and quite a few of rulers and being made to stand in the corner. Plus, nuns were no fun, and Elle was determined to have some fun at this party, even if it killed her. That was the other part of the reason she'd dragged the girl dressed like a rabbit over to the table. Not so much the wanting to be killed as her love of having fun and her love of strange things. The byword was tacky, but everyone who knew Elle knew she likes things that were a little offbeat, which accounted for the headbag and her suddenly infatuation with the rabbit girl.
    "And who are you, anyway? That's a hell of a getup," she said, putting a plate of food in front of her dining companion and then promptly beginning to pick off of it. As she ate a grape, popping the delicate skin between her teeth, she craned her neck to look around at Lady Beryl, wondering if there would be anyone else coming.
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  7. Aquamarine was dragged to a table by the strange woman, her feet sliding across the floor as she feebly tried to dig her heels in. It wasn't smart to let herself be pulled around by strangers, but she was far from being able to put up some sort of fight. The woman plopped her down in a chair and sat next to her. She pushed a plate of food in front of Aqua, and began to pick at her own plate. Aqua just lifted a clumsy paw to scoop up a handful of baby carrots and shove them in her pocket.

    She watched the woman's eye glance feverishly around the room, towards the direction the nun had left in. She seemed a little nervous about something, but Aquamarine held her tongue and said nothing. Turning back to Aquamarine she asked who she was.

    "My name is Aquamarine," she whispered, patting her slightly damp suit, and pocket full of carrots. "And you are?" Aquamarine was genuinely curious about the woman, even if she did seem a bit brash.
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