A Mystery...

“I must ask that none of you leave.  The murderer is in this room.”

                Chief Inspector Mansel Braminger keenly watched for reactions on the faces of those gathered around him.  Some were lightly dozing while others simply continued to preen, caring more deeply in their own appearance than his announcement.  But mostly he was met by the same vacant stares to which he had grown accustomed.

                “I see,” he said, “so this is how it will be.”

Only the faintest hint of disappointment crept into his voice.  In truth he preferred it this way.  The pleasure of the hunt would be spoiled if the prey were caught so easily.  He spun on his heel and pointed an accusing finger.

“Let’s start with you, Tom,” he began.  “When I found you starving and ragged in that London alley you begged me for a morsel of food.  I had pity on you and your one eye.  I brought you back here where I fed you and cleaned you, never imagining that I might be bringing a killer into my home.  J’Accuse!”

One-Eyed Tom blinked his remaining good eye.  Speechlessly he got up from his repose and walked out of the room.

A wave of embarrassment swept over Chief Inspector Braminger.  He suddenly felt he had been too hard on his old friend.

“Ah, hmm, well…,” he stammered, “I suppose it wasn’t him.”

The inspector watched the doorway for a moment then quickly recovered himself.  He turned back to the room to select another suspect.  He scanned the room till his eyes came across Princess Khala.  He narrowed his eyes.

“Then it must have been you, my dear.  What have you to say for yourself?” he asked pointedly.

Princess Khala said nothing.  Aloof by her Persian heritage, she continued to gaze out of the parlour window, disinterested in him and his accusations.

This lack of co-operation in the room began to grate upon Braminger.

“I demand to know who did this!  When I left this morning Gilda was alive and healthy.  She was having a swim.  Now there is no sign of her and one of you is to blame.”

Chief Inspector Braminger strode across the room and picked up a fish bowl.

“Look!  She’s gone,” he cried.

Silence filled the room.  Princess Khala was licking her tail.

“Blasted cats,” swore Braminger under his breath.

 I'm Karl Fogsen.  Thanks for reading.