COUNTERTOP
There’s a countertop here, with several interesting items that snag your attention. There’s a purse, a stainless steel pot, and a locked cabinet.
As you turn over the purse, you’re startled by a sound. From behind you comes the sharp sob of a crying woman. Carefully replacing the handbag, you turn around to find a woman watching you as she sniffles. Streaks of tears are easily visible even on her foggy features.
You cycle through your mental rolodex of the house’s known inhabitants and land on an ID.
“Something horrid has happened, hasn’t it?”
“It has, and I’m trying to discover exactly what that is.”
“Oh goodness, that’s what poor Charlie was doing until the day he died… I don’t know how I could help any more.“
“Well, Vera, my sister-in-law, had a delivery that needed to be picked up in town. She said she didn’t trust delivery men to get the order, a piece of furniture, to our house on time or in one piece. She wanted Mr. Emmett and Virgil to come load and unload it. She never liked Mr. Emmett, so I offered to go along to keep her company. We broke down before we even made it into town. And yet, on that rather empty stretch of road, just as the storm broke, that odd salesman appeared. He certainly took advantage of giving us a ride back, getting an invite out of the rain and bringing his suitcase in with him. The nagging old biddie from next door had appeared at some point, insisting to Vera that she’d had enough of the kids causing problems.“
“I didn’t really get the chance to know the traveling salesman, Otto. I will always wonder at the odds he showed up on that roadside just as he did. Mr. Emmett, while quiet, seemed kind enough. Elsie adored him and his games he would play with the kids. All I knew about the neighbor, Birdie, was that she came over at all hours accusing the kids of this or that slight. She even accused them of stealing from her house! Virgil… Well, he was a quiet boy, and didn’t socialize with the family much, preferring to stay in his room and write. My sister-in-law and I never really got close, but she really only ever had eyes for Charlie. He was such a kind man, who lost his wife so early, so I’m glad he found a second chance at happiness. I found a second chance myself, taking care of my niece and nephew, after… after what happened to my own family.”
“How else could one rationalize the tragedy that has plagued this family?! My husband and daughter, Charlie’s first wife, and then that night, with the rest of his family gone in one fell swoop… Why else, but a curse, would one family be forced to lose so much? Then for us to watch Charlie waste away the rest of his life, having devoted himself to finding the killer… *sob*”
Your gaze lands on the stainless steel pot before you. It’s a quaint little antique, a special pot designed especially for serving cocoa. At the time, this style of cocoa was much more than today’s dry packet hot chocolate mix, and was commonly enjoyed more by adults almost than by children, as it was truly made with bitter cocoa, needing to be sweetened to taste with sugar as it was heated. Now that you think of it, the investigators of the time had never come to a decisive conclusion as to how the victims had all come in contact with the poison. It would certainly be possible that the otherwise wholesome-looking little cocoa pot may have been the culprit.
As you turn over the purse, you’re startled by a sound. From behind you comes the sharp sob of a crying woman. Carefully replacing the handbag, you turn around to find a woman watching you as she sniffles. Streaks of tears are easily visible even on her foggy features.
You cycle through your mental rolodex of the house’s known inhabitants and land on an ID.
“Something horrid has happened, hasn’t it?”
“It has, and I’m trying to discover exactly what that is.”
“Oh goodness, that’s what poor Charlie was doing until the day he died… I don’t know how I could help any more.“
“It has, and I’m trying to discover exactly what that is.”
“Oh goodness, that’s what poor Charlie was doing until the day he died… I don’t know how I could help any more.“
“Well, Vera, my sister-in-law, had a delivery that needed to be picked up in town. She said she didn’t trust delivery men to get the order, a piece of furniture, to our house on time or in one piece. She wanted Mr. Emmett and Virgil to come load and unload it. She never liked Mr. Emmett, so I offered to go along to keep her company. We broke down before we even made it into town. And yet, on that rather empty stretch of road, just as the storm broke, that odd salesman appeared. He certainly took advantage of giving us a ride back, getting an invite out of the rain and bringing his suitcase in with him. The nagging old biddie from next door had appeared at some point, insisting to Vera that she’d had enough of the kids causing problems.“
“I didn’t really get the chance to know the traveling salesman, Otto. I will always wonder at the odds he showed up on that roadside just as he did. Mr. Emmett, while quiet, seemed kind enough. Elsie adored him and his games he would play with the kids. All I knew about the neighbor, Birdie, was that she came over at all hours accusing the kids of this or that slight. She even accused them of stealing from her house! Virgil… Well, he was a quiet boy, and didn’t socialize with the family much, preferring to stay in his room and write. My sister-in-law and I never really got close, but she really only ever had eyes for Charlie. He was such a kind man, who lost his wife so early, so I’m glad he found a second chance at happiness. I found a second chance myself, taking care of my niece and nephew, after… after what happened to my own family.”
“How else could one rationalize the tragedy that has plagued this family?! My husband and daughter, Charlie’s first wife, and then that night, with the rest of his family gone in one fell swoop… Why else, but a curse, would one family be forced to lose so much? Then for us to watch Charlie waste away the rest of his life, having devoted himself to finding the killer… *sob*”
Your gaze lands on the stainless steel pot before you. It’s a quaint little antique, a special pot designed especially for serving cocoa. At the time, this style of cocoa was much more than today’s dry packet hot chocolate mix, and was commonly enjoyed more by adults almost than by children, as it was truly made with bitter cocoa, needing to be sweetened to taste with sugar as it was heated. Now that you think of it, the investigators of the time had never come to a decisive conclusion as to how the victims had all come in contact with the poison. It would certainly be possible that the otherwise wholesome-looking little cocoa pot may have been the culprit.