Ten Little Indians

[steelguy]

Astral: I haven't read it either!
But I have my suspicions...

[Astral Faery]

Arrgh!  I need more, Cluedo!  What happens next, what happens next?  Tell meeeee!

Okay - deep breath - I'm okay.  Great update (when's the next one?):blob:

Great, steelguy - I'm glad I'm not the only one, lol!

[Cluedo]

Philip Lombard and Vera Claythorne stood by the sprawled out body of the late Ex-Inspector.

"That does it!" Bellowed Lombard, "Now only one thing is certain and that is Dr. Armstrong is the murderer and is hiding somewhere in the house. I'm going in to  get him..."

Vera grabbed Philip's arm.

"Don't be a fool!" She cried, "It's us now! We're next! He's counting on us to look for him!"

"But I now got this!" Lombard said as he flashed his revolver.

"But Dr. Armstrong is mad!" Vera continued, "You said Blore would be alright, and that he was more than a match for Armstrong. Look at him now!"

Philip grabbed Vera by the waist and ushered her indoors.

"Come on," He whispered, "In that case, we must make our way back to the cliff.  We may even have to spend the night there if we have to."

They both stealthily hurried down the hall of the house so that he could make it to the front. Lombard kept his revolver on guard....




When they exited through the front doors, Lombard stopped for a moment and looked out at the sea with the sun glowing down on it...

"So," He said suddenly, "What now?"

"What do you mean..?" Asked Vera.

"What I mean is once were rescued," Clarified Lombard, "I mean, as long as we both stick together and avoid Armstrong, I don't see why we shouldn't be rescued. What do you plan to do after this?"

Vera giggled a little.

"I would first of all like to have a bath..."

"I'm wondering if we'd ever see each other again," Suggested Lombard.

"Perhaps we might..."



"Well, here I'm asking as a friend mind you," Lombard said with a grin , "You didn't drown that little boy did you?"

Vera stepped back.

"I didn't! I didn't! You have no right to say that!"

Philip laughed with ease.

"Oh yes, yes you did my good girl!" He chuckled, "I can't imagine why though...must have been a man involved I assume?"

"Yes..there was a man in it..." Vera replied in a dulled voice.

"Thanks," Said Lombard, "That's what I wanted to know."

Vera turned away from him and looked out at the waves drearily. The was an object. A coloured object floating in the waves back to shore...

"What's that there!?" She called out, "Right there! By the rocks!"



Philip Lombard turned around to see what she was talking about...

"I don't know," He replied, "It's looks as though it's wearing clothes...a bather perhaps?"

Vera kept her eyes focused on the object.

"We better go look."

[Cluedo]

Carefully, both Vera and Philip climbed over the veranda balustrade and onto the  rocky terrain below. Then they slowly made their way down the side of the island down to where the beach was.



"It is clothes!" Vera remarked as they made their way down, "Look I can see slippers and a coat!"

"Wait," Said Lombard, "It looks more like a dressing robe to me."

"Hold on!" Cried Vera, "It's not clothes...it's a man!"

They watched as the man got wedged up along the rocks and the beach due to the tide moving in.

Finally they both made it down to the beach where the reached the body that had been coughed up from the sea...

It had a face...a hideous, purple, drowned face.

"My God," Whispered Lombard, "It's Armstrong!"

[Cluedo]

Aeons passed...world spanned and whirled....Time was motionless....It stood still...It passed through thousands of ages....

No. It was only a minute or so.

Two people were standing...looking down at the dead man.

Slowly...very slowly, Philip Lombard and Vera Claythorne lifted their heads and looked into each other's eyes.

Lombard laughed.

"So is that it then, is it, Vera?"

"There is no one on the island," Coldly stated Vera, "No one except the two of us."



"Precisely," Whispered Lombard, "So you know what this means then...don't you."

"How did you do it?" Vera asked, "That trick with the teddy bear?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"A very old parlor trick my dear, a very good one at that."

Their eyes met again.

"Why didn't I see his face properly before?" Vera thought, "A wolf...that's what it is...a wolf's face. Those horrible teeth..."


Lombard's voice became a snarl...deep and menacing.

"This is the end you understand...we come to the truth now. And it's the end..."

"I understand," Vera whispered.

She stared back out to sea again. General MacArthur stared out to sea before. When? Yesterday? Or is it the day before. She could almost feel him close by...

"This is the end," He'd said.



He said it with acceptance...almost with welcome.

But to Vera, it should not be the end...it will not be the end.

She looked down at the body again.

"Poor Dr. Armstrong," She whispered.

"What's this?" Sneered Lombard, "Womanly pity?"

"Why not? Haven't you any pity?"

"I've no pity for you, you..little conniving bitch. And don't you expect it."

Vera almost ignored him. She was concentrating on the figure that once was the living physician; Dr. Edward Armstrong.



"We must move him. Carry him up to the house..."

"To join the other victims?" Laughed Lombard, "All neat and tidy in his bed? As far as I'm concerned, he can stay where he is."

"At any rate, let's get him out of reach of the sea..."

"As you like," Replied Lombard with a hint of sarcasm.

They both bent down as they dragged the body out of the lapping water and high up on the sand. He was heavier than they thought; the water had added to the extra weight. Vera had to press hard against Lombard's body to give him assistance.

"Not such an easy job..." Panted Lombard.

Finally they were able to get the body clear of the water mark.

"Satisfied?" Lombard panted as he faced away from her, catching his breath.

"Quite.." Vera replied.

Her tone warned him...



...even as he clamped his pocket, he knew he would find it empty.

Lombard quickly spun around and saw her face to face. Danger was in her eyes, and the revolver was in her hand....

[Astral Faery]

Go, Vera, Go!  Shoot him!

[Sam_Cains90]

Oh no! Please get the next one up quickly!

[Cluedo]

Both of them stood there on the beach face to face in a deadly climax of tension. Vera held the revolver poised and ready....



"So that's the reason for your womanly solicitude," Growled Philip Lombard, "You wanted to pickpocket me."

She nodded.

Still, she held the revolver steadily and unwaveringly. Death was very near to Philip Lombard now. It had never..he knew...been nearer. Nevertheless, he was not beaten...yet.


"Give that revolver to me," He said authoritatively.  

Vera laughed. She wasn't stupid.

"Come on...hand it over!" He continued.

His brain was working....should he talk her over? Lull her into security? Or make a swift dash?


All his life, Lombard took the risky way. He took it now...

"Now look here my dear girl...you just listen..."



And then he sprang. Quick as a panther...as any other feline creature....

Automatically, Vera pressed the trigger.....



BANG!




Lombard stood frozen in his jump....a split second of shock.

His heart would have been beating...if only it would beat.
A clean hole straight through silenced it instead.

Then he hardly felt a thing...the life had left Capt. Philip Lombard...




Heavily, he crashed to the ground; frozen and motionless.

Vera came warily forward, the revolver still in her hand....but she had nothing to fear.

Philip Lombard was dead....shot through the heart.

[Cluedo]

A teardrop rolled down Vera Claythorne's cheek. It was a tear of relief. It was over. There was no more fear. She was alone on the island. Alone with nine other dead bodies. But what did that matter? She was alive! And that was all that counted. She had killed the monster. No more fear....



It was the afternoon now. Even still, there was no room in her now except the glorious sense of safety.

However, she realized now that she was now very hungry and sleepy. Principally sleepy. She wanted to throw herself onto her bed and sleep and sleep and sleep...

Even if she did have to wait for tomorrow to get rescued, she really didn't care. She was alone now and safe. She didn't mind staying in the house. Not now that she was alone.

Now she had nothing to fear...and slowly...she made her way up to the ordinary modern house she was once afraid of. After using her quick thinking and ingenuity, she had gotten rid of her would-be destroyer. After that, she would be suprised if she was afraid of anything....

Slowly, she headed up the rocks, leaving the abandoned beach....



She made her way to the quiet terrace. How peaceful everything was once again.

"It is as though I'm in a dream..." Vera thought.

She entered the front door. Her eyelids were drooping. All she wanted to do was sleep, sleep, sleep.....



The house felt strangely peaceful.

"Ordinarily, one wouldn't want to sleep in a house with a dead body in practically every room!" She thought.

She thought about getting something to eat from the Kitchen, but she was simply too tired. She needed the bed.

Suddenly, something else struck her mind....the Indians.

She strolled into the Parlor where she found a single Indian resting on top of the mantle.

Vera giggled...

"One little Indian boy left all alone..." She said aloud, trying to remember,"Ah yes! He got married and then there were none!"



Married...funny how she suddenly got the feeling Hugo was in the house. Very strong feeling in fact. It was if though he were waiting for her upstairs.....

[Cluedo]

The sound of Vera's feet climbing the staircase could be heard. Otherwise, the house was bathed in complete silence, save for the ticking of a clock downstairs. How quiet the house was. But still, it didn't seem like an empty house.

Hugo was upstairs, waiting for her.

"One little Indian boy left all alone," Vera thought, "What was that last line again? Something about being married? Or something else?"

She had come now to the door of her bedroom. She felt as though she were to collapse as she entered, rubbing her eyes with fatigue...



She stumbled to the center of the bedroom, preparing to collapse on the bed, when suddenly she realized a chair was in her way.

"What's this doing her?" She wondered, "I didn't move this..."

Then she looked up...and gave a little gasp at what she saw....

It was a rope. A rope that was tied to a noose attached to the same hook that held the seaweed before. The chair below was ready for her...ready to be stood upon, and kicked away....

[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?