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COUNTERTOP


You come upon a countertop with a few items of interest. There’s a purse, a kettle of some kind, and a locked cabinet.



As you rotate the ancient purse in your hands, scrutinizing it closely for any secrets it may hold, you’re suddenly startled by the sound of a woman crying behind you. Spinning around, you see the huddled figure of someone with their back to you, the rapid rise and fall of their shoulders consistent with the sobbing whimpers. You reach out to touch their shoulder, but your hand passes through as they turn to face you! Their eyes are red and swollen from the tears, but are no doubt the eyes of none other than Aunt Jane.



“Something terrible has happened again, hasn’t it?”

“I was hoping you could answer some questions for me.”

“So the curse has struck again, no doubt! I’ll help as best I can.”

You mean these other spirits? Most of them were family, I assure you. The others? Perhaps they were here for more nefarious means. Vera, Virgil, and Elsie lived here, of course. I suppose I’d consider Mr. Emmett, the lodger, somewhat of a family member as well. The sleazy salesman? Well, he “rescued” us, so to speak, from our broken down vehicle and delivered us safely back to the house. Then he grabbed a few items from his car, including a briefcase, and proceeded to barter his way inside. Something about him felt off. Then there was the nosy neighbor, Birdie, who was always finding some reason to make her presence known here. The fact that it was in the evening, at the onset of a storm, and that she seemed to appear out of nowhere has always troubled me.


It does, sadly. They say I’m cursed, and I’m inclined to believe them. I suppose you know all about the troubles that have plagued my past? The death of my husband by automobile crash, the taking of my daughter, Rose, by some stranger in a park! I wish I could say I had done something to deserve all of this, that the curse was somehow my own fault, but the truth is I have no reason to offer! I was happy, once. My family was happy, and then by curse or rotten luck it was all turned upside down.”


I shudder to think so, Detective. I fear in secret that I doomed everyone that night, that whatever or whomever took it upon themselves to poison me did so at the expense of the others. That the curse that took my first family decided to take my second as well. I believe whole-heartedly that my brother spent his remaining years studying the curse, trying to devise a way to lift it while in tandem attempting to discover the perpetrator of this dreadful hex!”




You intently inspect the kettle. Specifically, you note that it’s the type of kettle used to serve hot cocoa. Surely it’s an antique at this point. Investigators at the time of the deaths never pinpointed the means by which poison entered the bodies of the seven victims, but you’ve always harbored the suspicion that the cocoa had been poisoned. You notice something etched into the counter beneath the kettle.