Ten Little Indians
Cluedo:
Suddenly, Vera remembered the last line of the poem...
"One little Indian boy left all alone; He went and hanged himself, and then there were none!"
To hang herself? That was exactly what Hugo Hamilton wanted!
Like automation, Vera stepped forward....her mind was in a daze. This was the end after all...it was here where Cyril's cold wet hand touched her throat....
She remembered now:
It was during the August summer, much like the one now. Cyril was just being as horrible and obstinate as always...
"Please Miss Claythorne! I want to swim out to the rock today!"
The puny little child didn't stand a chance...not against the rough waves. He couldn't make it...and she knew it.
"You may swim to the rock Cyril...."
That was what the murder was...as easy as that!
But now...it was too much to bear, for the tears welled up within her, begging to leave...
It was a child! A shrimp of nine year old! She...she let him die. She killed him. She couldn't even hear him scream as he battled helplessly against the waves as his lungs burst with water; choking up his throat....
She tried to save him...no...she pretended to try and save him. But in the end...she never got Hugo. She fooled everyone else, but she never fooled Hugo.
"Why..!?" Vera sobbed through garbled, hysterical tears, "How...could I? HOW COULD I! WHY DID I DO IT!?...why? Cyril...I'm so sorry......I'm so sorry...."
But now it was no use denying it now. It was the end. She knew exactly what she had to do...
She climbed up on the chair...her eyes damp and blurry from the tears stared ahead as fastened the noose around her neck...
"HUGO!" Vera cried out.
He was in the room. Hugo was there watching to see what she had to do...
She kicked away the chair....
"ACK!!"
...and that was the end of Vera Claythorne.
END OF PART III
Astral Faery:
AAAAAHHHH! Is there more? Is there an epilogue or something? Please say there is!
Brilliantly done. Your pictures are great - I really like the one on the beach with the gun in the shadow - and the one where she's looking up at the noose - very well done! Good show!
Cluedo:
Yes, don't worry.
There will be an Epilogue AND a Confession (He!).
Cluedo:
EPILOGUE
Wednesday, August 9th, 1939
Scotland Yard, London
Sir Thomas Legge, Assistant Commissioner at Scotland Yard was sitting irritably at his desk going over some legal document he didn't care about. It was an exceptionally hot day and he just wanted to head back to his home for the day. However, with all the work in front of him, it seemed as though he will be working late.
"Good Lord, look at all this!" He grumbled as he glanced over the document.
That's when his secretary, Miss Buxley entered...
"Mr. Legge," She announced in a husky voice, "The Inspector is here to see you about the Indian Island case."
Well...at least it would give him a little break from his cumbersome document.
"Well?" Sir Thomas Legge asked, "How did it go?"
Inspector Maine looked grim as his fingered his little mustache.
"All of them are dead," He reported, "And not a single other soul alive on the island."
"Damn it all, Maine!" Grumbled the A.C., "It just doesn't make sense! Ten people dead on the island and not a living soul on it! Somebody must have killed them! Anything helpful in the doctor's report at least?"
"No sir," Maine respectfully replied, "Wargrave and Lombard were shot. The first through the head, the second through the heart. Miss Brent and Mr. Marston died of cyanide poisoning. Mrs. Rogers died of an overdose of chloral. Her husband, Rogers' head was split open. Blore's head was crushed in. Armstrong died of drowning. MacArthur's skull was fractured by a blow on the back of the head, and Vera Claythorne was hanged.
'Nasty business, all of it," Muttered the A.C., "Have you at least found out about the bugger who arranged all of this and provisioned the island?"
"Actually, we have," Maine replied, "It was a man named Issac Morris. Unfortunately he is dead as well. He was an unsavory little man who in my honest opinion, got what he deserved."
"And he was the one who arranged the island?"
"Yes he was. He put the house and island for sale...made it clear he was buying it for a third party, "Mr. Owen." He then made all of the arrangements. He also was the one who apparently told the locals of Sticklehaven about there being some sort of bet about living on a "desert island" for a week and to take no notice of their appeal for help!"
Inspector Maine continued on.
"Fred Narracott was the man who provided the boat transport to the island. He found something oddly normal about all his passengers that when a local boy announced he saw an S.O.S. smoke signal, Narracott overrode Mr. Owen's instructions and provided a boat back to the island early."
Then the A.C. turned the attention over to the letters and gramophone...
"I'm assuming then then that Morris had written the letters and provided the voice on the gramophone..."
"It was Morris again who recorded that, under instructions of "Mr. Owen", Maine explained, "As for the subject matter, I can't say much about it. I will have to do some extra research. I do know however that Wargrave was falsely accused on it. Edward Seton was guilty alright, as I recall. I do remember Blore. He was an old friend and colleague of mine. We had a falling out when I discovered he wasn't going straight. He got mixed up in a bad gang and from what I know, committed black perjury against Landor."
"How did Morris die?" Legge asked.
"Overdose of a barbiturate at his house, no evidence of accident or suicide, but I find his death to be very convenient for "Mr. Owen."
"Quite," Replied Legge, "Also quite convenient for Mr. Owen to vanish in thin air from the island like that...well then the only explanation I can see is that he was one of the ten."
"We thought of that as well, and have gone into it. Our discovery was that Vera Claythorne kept a diary. So did Emily Brent. Old Wargrave made some rather cryptic legal notes that are difficult to read. Blore however made some notes too. Piecing them all together, we determined the deaths happened in this order: Marston, Mrs. Rogers, MacArthur, Rogers, Miss Brent, and Wargrave. After that, Vera's diary states that Armstrong had left the house and Blore and Lombard had gone looking for him. Blore made one final entry after that: "Armstrong disapeared."
"Well then isn't it clear that Armstrong is the killer!?" Legge exclaimed, "He obviously went mad, killed the others and either jumped off the cliff to suicide, or he drowned trying to swim to shore."
"Not so sir," Maine replied, "The coroner certified that everybody had been dead for at least thirty-six hours, but he was certain Armstrong had been in the water for about eight to ten hours. Also, his body had been dragged up high beyond the waterline."
"Alright then, that leaves three other people...Vera Claythorne, Philip Lombard and Blore, who you say are all dead. Let's assume Lombard is the murderer then. He strung up Vera Claythorne with the noose, dropped a heavy thing on Blore's head, then shot himself in the heart."
"Errr no sir." Maine replied weakly, "The gun was found upstairs. Lying outside the bedroom of Wargrave. If he shot himself, how did the gun get up there?"
"This is getting annoying, Maine. Were there fingerprints on the gun?"
"Yes sir, Vera Claythorne's. And now I guess you are going to say that Vera shot Lombard, went and dropped the rock-filled teddy on Blore and finally went and hanged herself. Well that's quite alright, except the chair that Vera used to hang herself had been put neat and tidy against the wall, rather than kicked over."
Inspector Maine continued as he sipped some coffee.
"Now, that only leaves Blore. But if your going to tell me that Blore shot Lombard, induced Vera to hang herself, then went outside and dropped the teddy bear on himself, I just won't buy it. A man like Blore would never kill himself in such a way. Nor would he go out of his way to avenge abstract justice. He was too stupid for that."
"I agree," Mumbled Legge.
"And therefore, somebody must of been still alive on the island...somebody who could have cleaned up after the murders. But there was no escape except from a rescue boat...."
Their conversation continued, while Miss Buxley who was watering the plants, happened to overhear.
"My stars!" She thought, "In that case, who killed them!?"
steelguy:
What? Whaaaat? *flails madly* All dead? Then who-? And with the-?
But the-? *Sputters helplessly*
Right. It was Hugo. Right?
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