Ten Little Indians

[Cluedo]

Greetings. This is my adaptation of Agatha Christie's famous story "Ten Little Indians."  

I'm making this for 3 different kinds of people.

1. Those who do not know the story.

2. Those who know the story and like it and wish to see it in Sim form.

3. Those who just love the Sims.

I would like to ask the people in Category 2 not to spoil the ending for the people in Category 1. I know a lot of you guys may know the ending, but please! Just don't spoil it!:shh: Thank you.:angel:


Anyway without further ado, may I present Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians." Dun dun duuuhhhhhh!

[Cluedo]

PART I

Friday, August 4th, 1939

Sticklehaven, Devon


It was an unusually hot summer in the seaside town of Sticklehaven. The sun was bright in the sky with little clouds. A perfect day to enjoy a nice cold drink, or even perhaps spend a weekend at an island retreat. It was true however that there did happen to be a private island close-by to Sticklehaven known as Indian Island. It was also true that the island was recently purchased by a low-key couple known as the Owens. The funny thing is, no resident of Sticklehaven or anyone can recall ever seeing or knowing Mr. and Mrs. Owen. However what was known was the fact that the Owens were planning to have a weekend party for a rather large group who were coming directly to their quiet town to get transport to the otherwise secluded island. Who these people are a bit of mystery. From the sound of it though, it was going to be a rather curiously odd bunch.....


"Is everything ready Narracott?" Asked a bluff, bearded man with a bowler hat.

"Yes, Mr. Harrison." Replied Fred Narracott, the boatman.
 

Mr. Charles Harrison was the harbour-master, and he happened to be very particular about how things were done around his harbour naturally. Fred Narracott worked for him as the transporter. A nice decent job. Pay wasn't bad as well.

"The visitors should be arriving any minute soon from the station" Reported Harrison, "One of them has arrived early. He asked me when he will be ready to leave. Davis I believe his name was."

"Ah, yes," Replied Narracott, "That well-rounded cheery fellow? I've met him. Seems  to be a rather friendly chap."

"Yes, quite so." Agreed Harrison, "At any rate, I want you to be ready to receive luggage when the others arrive."

"Aye, Mr. Harrison," Confirmed Narracott, "I'll do that."

"Good."

And with that Mr. Harrison walked off to attend to other things in the store.

[Stelio Kontos]

Continue, please.
This is some good work you've got going.

[Cluedo]

William Blore was sitting down on the patio enjoying a side meal at the harbour's snack bar. He figured he might as well since it was almost lunchtime. He too felt a little affected by the hot air, and decided it was far too hot to wear a jacket with his suit. Never liked the damn things anyway. They felt a little constricting on such a big man like Blore. As he ate he went over his notebook. He had a little list of people and he was pondering as he checked them off.

"Can't be too careful..." Blore thought in his mind, "Mrs. Owen may keep a tight foot on her jewels this weekend. There's a quite a shady sounding few here"

Blore was a detective. When he received an invitation to Indian Island, he had been told by Mr. Owen to protect Mrs. Owen's jewels from a suspected thief during their weekend stay. There was a point made in the letter that there would be a nice bundle of payment and Blore would be in their debt. They also made note for him to masquerade as a guest under a different name.

At any rate Blore was incredibly curious as to the history of Indian Island. Perhaps a local knew a little...even just a little. An elderly gentleman was walking by and Blore decided that due to his age, surely he must be very familiar with these parts.

"Pardon me sir," He asked while getting up from his seat, "But are you familiar around these parts?"

The old man turned around. He has a touch of a roughness to him, but he appeared friendly.

"I lived here all my life, sir." Replied the old man, "Even since I was a wee lad. I take it you are not local then?"

"No, no." Chuckled Blore breezily,  "Just visiting. Oh, I'm Mr. Sam Davis by the way."

"Aye' pleasure Mr. Davis," He replied, with a little gruffness in his voice, "Pat Sherman is da name."



"Well Mr. Sherman," Asked Mr. Blore "What do you know about about Indian Island?"

"Used to visit dere when I was a boy," Recalled Mr. Sherman, "A nice rocky place to explore! Not a soul around! Island got it's name from the  shape of da main cliff, when you turn ye head. Look's like an Indian. Now a couple of fancy folk called de Robsons came to build dem a house on the island thinking it would be a romantic spot to live on. The missus wasn't a happy camper and came to hate it for it's rough winds and nobody for company. We never saw dem again! he! he! he!"  

He sounded like a jaybird as he chuckled.

"Now de Owens are da talk of town," He continued, "We never see dem come or go...and I don't like da look of it. You see, dere's a squall comin', lad."

"No, no, old man" Blore corrected, "It's going to be lovely weather this weekend. Just look at the sky!"



"Dere's a squall coming!" Repeated Mr. Sherman firmly, "I can smell it...de time of judgment is here.... and if you are off to Indian Island, I would a watch me self if I were you,"

With that the old man was off.

"Hmmmmm," Blore thought to himself, "He tells me to watch myself, eh? I'm not a fool, and I bet I would outlive him at any rate! Blimey old man."

[Cluedo]

A short while later, a cab pulled up onto the docks. Inside were three passengers cramped together in the back seat. It was only a relief for them to exit that hot sweaty cab and smell the sea air.

One of them was an old gentleman in his mid-70's. He appearance was rather frail, though there was something about him that looked as though he still had a bit of strength in him. The other two passengers were clearly younger than him. Much younger in fact.  

The man looked to be in his 30's. The woman perhaps even younger. He had a tall posture, a clean cut suit, and a wolfish-almost cruel face. His mouth curled back in a way that looked like a snake before it lunged to bite. As for the woman, her appearance was softer in comparison and more mild. She was very, very pretty, but in a school mistress kind of way.  Both of them exited the cab and faced each other. The man who's name was  Capt. Philip Lombard  was the first to speak.



"Well now, were here!" Declared Philip Lombard, "Quite a awful ride here, wouldn't you agree Miss Claythorne?"

"Yes, well..." Replied Miss Vera Claythorne, sounding a light-headed from the drive, "I never really do enjoy riding in cabs all that much."

"I don't blame you." Agreed Lombard, "At any rate, it's great to finally be out smelling the sea air..."

"Oh to be honest, I never liked the smell of the sea much." Vera replied, that took Lombard a little aback.

"Oh then why did you come?" He asked, with a little bit of daring intent, "I assumed you may have come for a holiday!"

Vera giggled a little and said,

"Oh no, no, no..I'm not on holiday! You see, I've actually been hired as Mrs. Owen's secretary. Funny woman, living out on an island like that. So why did you come to Indian Island, Mr. Lombard?"


"Ah, my dear," Began Lombard, chuckling, "That is private business! Mr. Owen said that he needed a good man in a tight spot, and that's all I can say. At any rate, I reckon I will enjoy myself at Indian Island!"



On the other side of the car, Vera and Philip could hear the  elderly gentleman requesting some assistance with his luggage with a rather strong voice. Looks like there was some strength in that old man after all!

[Cluedo]

General John MacArthur stood by his baggage as the taxi drove off. Technically he probably could still lift the suitcase, but it was always nice to have youthful assistance with this sort of stuff. Shows certain respect for the elders. Especially one who risked his life in a by-gone war. However at his age, he knew when certain things were doomed to happen. Why, in fact he could see that a war was about to start brewing any time soon. He could only wish he didn't have to live to see it. After all, his late wife Leslie would never have the chance to see it...

A boy who was no more 15 ran up to the General with boyish eagerness.

"Afternoon sir," Greeted the boy, "My name's Jim, what can I do for you?"

General MacArthur looked at Jim.


"Well you look like a healthy young soldier!" General MacArthur chuckled, before giving a few coughs, "I would be happy if you could take my suitcase over to the boat thank you."

"Right away sir!" Piped Jim and with quite a bit of ease, he lifted the suitcase and trotted off to the jetty.

"A little too damned eager" Thought General MacArthur, a little wary of the kid's obvious ass-kissing, "Just like Richmond! No....I mustn't. I must not think of Richmond...I did what any general would have done during the war!"

He knew he mustn't think of Richmond....or Leslie.

[Cluedo]

It wasn't long before a second cab from the station arrived on the docks. This time carrying another elderly gentleman, Justice Lawrence Wargrave, and a middle-aged spinster, Miss Emily Brent. Both of them looking rather like rather assessed his surroundings looking little suspicious as he shifted his tortoise-like head. Miss Brent did the same, though slightly more subtle. With her being a decent Christian woman, it was important that she must always keep her head up, and not let worry perturb her, even in the most odd circumstances.

Mr. Harrison who just came back out from the store walked up to greet them both.



"Welcome to Sticklehaven," He greeted, "I'm Harrison the Harbour-master. I hope you both had a pleasant journey getting here."

"Yes, I'm quite fine thank you." Assured Emily Brent stiffening her lip a little.

Judge Wargrave looked at the people who have already arrived then he looked at Mr. Harrison.

"Is this all who are coming?" He asked.

"No sir," Replied Mr. Harrison, "A couple more should be coming by auto."

Wargrave gave a little nod, and walked off a little just as another man exited one of the stores, approaching the Judge....



"Can I help you?" Asked Judge Wargrave sternly.

"Oh I'm so sorry to bother," Replied the man whose face muscles appeared quite tense, "But I'm trying to find a telephone. I just had a bit of a car accident very close to here."

"Oh?" Asked the Judge, "What happened?"

"Some wreckless fool nearly ran into me on the road, which sent me landing the car into a ditch." Answered the man tensely while rolling his eyes, "I figured since I was so close, I would walk the rest of the way, but my car is in a ditch. It would hard to enjoy my weekend on Indian Island knowing my car is simply in a ditch."

"Indian Island..." Said Wargrave, "That's where I'm heading...in fact, I don't suppose you know a woman by the name of Constance Culmington?"

The man looked a Wargrave a little surprised.

"Err..no." He replied, "Say, don't I know you? You look rather familiar...why it's Judge Wargrave isn't it? I'm Dr. Edward Armstrong, but you probably wouldn't remember me."

Judge Wargrave looked at him oddly....

"Armstrong eh? Replied Wargrave, "Yes, I seem to recall you in the witness box."

"Yes," Said Dr. Armstrong satisfied, "Fancy meeting you here, out of all places....and once again I'm sorry but I don't know a Constance Culmington."

"It's no consequence," Reassured the Judge, "She was the one who invited me, and since she is not here, I was wondering if I got the right place, but she is a little undependable of course."

"Of course, why didn't I recognize him sooner!?" Thought Dr. Armstrong to himself, "Those spectacles, tortoise head, and squint eyes. That's Wargrave alright!"

[Cluedo]

There were eight people standing on the jetty above the cool green water, prepared for the journey to Indian Island. Vera Claythorne, General MacArthur, Philip Lombard, Emily Brent, William Blore, Doctor Armstrong, Judge Wargrave, and the boatman, Fred Narracott. For the visitors, a weekend vacation on a island was an extraordinary thing to think about. Even more extraordinary was the anticipation of meeting their mysterious hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Owen. It sent goosebumps down their spines.

Mr. Harrison walked up to them all, ready to give the announcement of departure...


"Ladies and Gentlemen," Announced Mr. Harrison in his best speaking voice, "In a few moments your luggage shall be put on the boat, and you will will be off to Indian Island for the weekend. We will let you know that the boat will only return on Monday provided the weather holds up. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your sta......"

A glorious honking from a very expensive looking automobile that looked completely out of place in Sticklehaven cut sharply into Harrison's speech. The auto screeched to shaky stop due to the speed of the car.

"I...recognize that auto," Dr. Armstrong thought trying to remember, it didn't take him long to realize it was the same automobile that nearly ran him off the road due to it's speed.

"Glory be! Now who could that be!?" Declared Mr. Harrison, sounding very confused.



The owner of the vehicle came in the form of a young man. Not just any young man...a Greek God of a man. Wearing an expensive tweed driving coat and goggles, his golden hair blown back by the wind, tall 6-metre frame, bronzed, chiseled features as though carved by an famed artist, and his overall look about him. A strong, confident, powerful look with his shiny, expensive auto parked impressively behind him. Vera blushed a little.

"Sorry!" He called out without a hint of apology. His tone was confident and cocky, "Waiting for me?"


"Oh..my, my, my!" Stuttered Mr. Harrison in utter shock, "We nearly left without you Mr. Marston. Jim will bring your suitcase down to to dock, and we shall leave right at once!"

Anthony Marston looked at him and flashed a grin.

"I'll give you the keys, chief," Replied Marston, "Have somebody park it somewhere safe."

"Yes, of course!" Replied Harrison still in awe.

Several locales of Sticklehaven stared at the gorgeous vehicle and it's more than mortal owner. It was an event many of them would not forget.


"All ready sir!" Called Narracott ready to start off the journey, he assessed his passengers...and they were queer passengers indeed. They were such a mixed up bunch that he couldn't comprehend it.

"There's an old maid, a few professional looking men, a pretty, yet plain young  thing, a couple of them are elderly," Narracott tried to comprehend, "Not at all like Mr. Robson's group. That Mr. Marston fellow would fit in the Robson crowd, but not the rest of them. They really don't fit at all. Mr. Owen certainly holds strange company....."


Before he boarded the boat, Anthony Marston assessed his fellow passengers as well.

"It's too bad that rumour about Gabrielle Turle buying Indian Island isn't true." He thought regretfully, "I would have liked to have been in with the acting crowd. That young sweet thing looks good enough at least. I hope she's the playful type. What I don't understand is that old horse Barkley isn't here...perhaps he's playing a practical joke on me and stuffed me into THIS crowd."

Jim was finished loading the boat. As Harrison gave the signal, it was time to cast off to Indian Island...

[Cluedo]

The waters of the Devon coast were calm and crisp as Narracott's motor boat roared over. They were on their way to Indian Island, though it made some of the passengers wonder. Most of them pictured the island being close to shore with a pretty white house on it. None of them suspected it would be this far out. Sticklehaven was disappearing in the horizon as Narracott's boat plugged on....



"Well now," Declared William Blore breaking the silence, "I do suppose we better get to know who we are then shall we? Davis is the name, and Natal, South Africa is my homeland. GORGEOUS place!"

He used his arms to emphasize what he was saying.



"Yes, well..." Emily Brent, who was unsure whether she liked this bluff, boisterous man, "I'm Miss Emily Brent."

Everybody was little taken aback about how tight she said her name.

"I'm sure I need no introduction.." Leered Anthony Marston, "But you call all call me Tony."

Vera spoke next...

"Well I'm Vera Claythorne," she said, "And I suppose I better tell you that I'm Mrs. Owen's new secretary."

"Ahhh.." Noted Judge Wargrave, "So you met Mrs. Owen then?"

"Actually I haven't." Replied Vera sheepishly, "I was contacted though an agency in Plymouth.

"I see," Replied Judge Wargrave stroking his chin, "Oh I'm Lawrence Wargrave by the way."

"A pleasure to meet you sir," Stated General MacArthur, "I'm General John Gordon  MacArthur "



"A fellow soldier!" Declared Lombard, "How do you do sir? I'm Capt. Philip Lombard at your service!"

\

General MacArthur stared at the young soldier and winced a little, but gave a nod.

Finally Dr. Armstrong spoke up.

"Ah yes, I guess I better introduce myself," He said, "I'm Doctor Edward Armstrong and uh..."

He turned to Marston.

"I believe we've met sir."

Marston looked at Dr. Armstrong and boldly chuckled.

"As so you were that slow coach there!" He joked, "Sorry about that chap!"

"Damned fool!" Though Armstrong bitterly, "Probably hasn't got any respect for anyone except his own wreckless crowd. I suppose if he isn't careful, I'll be tending to his wounds on this trip."




At any rate now, all conversation stopped suddenly. The awe-striking site of their destination was coming into view. It was Indian Island alright, and what a sight it was! Although, it wasn't what most were expecting. There was something cold and forbidding about it, and the shape of an Indian in rocks created a feeling of eeriness.  But it was probably nothing.

[Cluedo]

A man and woman stood on the terrace gazing out to sea. Of course, one may think that these people were the Owens, but they were not. In fact, they didn't even own the house. This couple was named Mr. and Mrs. Rogers. They were the married butler and housekeeper of the Owens. Both of them stood in anticipation of the arrival of the mysterious visitors. As soon as the boat came in view they could see the people who were arriving to stay at Indian Island for the weekend. Mrs. Rogers wasn't pleased.

"Eight?" She thought, "Eight people? The Owens never mentioned that we were caring for such a large party! Oh dear, oh dear....it will never work."

 



In a matter of minutes, the boat docked along side of the jetty and the guests were more than happy to stretch their legs and get out of the boat to their new lodgings.

"Well everyone," Announced Narracott, "Welcome to Indian Island. In a few moments the butler will be down to give you all your instructions."

He turned around. Rogers was already down the steps behind him. Being a good servant, Rogers had the gift of anticipation, or so one may think.

"Ah," Narracott began to correct himself, "Here he is right now."

"Thank you Mr. Narracott." Thanked the butler.

He assessed the guests with his pale, dull eyes. He wasn't the first to perceive them as a strange crowd, but a good servant never questions.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Announced Rogers in a dull, monotone voice, "I'm Rogers, the butler. If you would be so kind to take the stairs up to the house, my wife will show you to your rooms. I will be up shortly with the luggage."



The guests proceeded forth up the stairs. The General being the oldest and slowest trailed up from behind. Rogers gave a short respectable nod to each one as they left him one by one. Then he turned to Narracott.



"How was the boat ride Mr. Narracott?" Rogers inquired.

"It was quite smooth, thank you," Replied Narracott.

"I don't suppose you could help bring up some of the luggage?" Politely requested Rogers, "My wife will make you a nice sandwich for your help."

"A sandwich, eh? Answered Narracott, "Well I haven't had lunch yet. Been working all morning. In that case I would be delighted. Then I ought to get heading back."

"I understand," Concurred Rogers, "And I thank you for the help Mr. Narracott."

And so they both headed up to the house at the top of the hill, with a suitcase in each hand....

[Cluedo]

After being shown up to their rooms by Rogers, the men adjourned to the mansion's parlor. The house itself was a gorgeous place. From the looks of it, one can tell is was recently built due to modern features. It was bright and spacious rather than old, dusty and cluttered with cob-webs and wood paneling.
The parlor itself was quite a nice room with a few elegant seats, a phonograph, a chessboard, a grand piano, sideboard with drinks (which pleased Marston. He was waiting to get a drink ever since he visited the bar on the way to Sticklehaven), and finally an odd mantle display.

In the meantime, the men in the parlor were discussing what was on their minds after finally reaching Indian Island.




"Well now, I must admit I do feel a little uneasy," Confessed Judge Wargrave, "For we have yet to have met Mr. and Mrs. Owen. I think it's distasteful when the guests end up arriving before their host."
 
"It happens." Said Marston.

"Not to me, young man." Stated Wargrave self-importantly.

"Well I am hoping they arrive soon." Admitted Blore, "I was talking to an old man earlier. He said there was a storm coming. I told him that it was a beautiful day, but you know these old salts. They always seem to know."



"The thing that seems to get me however is that Constance Culmington isn't here," Solemnly stated Wargrave, "She's the one who invited me in the first place.

"Say!" Declared Marston suddenly, "The person who invited me isn't here either! Where is Barkley anyway? I suppose he's late or something as well."



Lombard couldn't help but snicker a little the odd situation the people here were in.

"Well, I wasn't invited here by friends like these people," Lombard thought to himself, "Though, I'm still curious to know what Mr. Owen wants of me. That damnable Jew didn't say a thing!"


Then he turned to the General.

"What about you sir?"

"The people I was hoping to meet," He replied, "Don't appear to be here either..."




"Well here's somebody who's ought to be able to tell us what's going on," Dr. Armstrong said suddenly from the doorway, "Hey Rogers, where are the Owens anyway?"



"I don't know sir," Replied Rogers.

"Well surely you've met them, yes?" Asked the Judge.

"Well yes and no sir," Rogers tried to explain, "I've talked to Mr. Owen, but only by telephone. He did say that he would be here by dinner time."

"Well that's good to hear," Replied Dr. Armstrong, as they all breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a little.

[Cluedo]

Meanwhile, the women were upstairs awaiting to see their rooms. Mrs. Rogers was in charge of showing them. Vera was already excited by her surroundings. She couldn't wait to see her new lodgings.

"If you follow me down this corridor," Said Mrs. Rogers quietly, "I will show you to your individual rooms."




After leading Miss Brent into her bedroom, Mrs. Rogers led Vera to the room directly next to it. Her suitcase had already be brought inside by either Rogers or Narracott.

"What a beautiful room!" Declared Vera in a girlish squeal.

"Yes Miss," Replied Mrs. Rogers in a similar monotone voice as her husband, "Very beautiful indeed."



The bedroom was indeed beautiful. It was modern, upscale bedroom with even a balcony to walk out onto. It has been done in rich, cool colours. Very appropriate for a sea-side setting. There was a nice desk as well for doing her make up, or writing a letter. Vera was getting happier about her stay by the minute.

"I'm Vera Claythorne by the way," Vera told Mrs. Rogers, "I'm Mrs. Owen's new secretary. I believe she has mentioned me, yes?"

"No Miss," Replied Mrs. Rogers, "Mrs. Owen hasn't told us anything."

"But surely she ha...!?"



Then she stopped herself mid-sentence.

"Oh nevermind."

Mrs. Rogers stared at her blankly.

"May I leave you alone, Miss?"

Vera gave her a nod, and Mrs. Rogers scurried out of the room.

"What an odd woman!" She thought to herself, "She's as skiddish as a mouse and she looks like ghost..."

Then her attention turned towards a small written piece of parchment on her desk.

"What's this?" She thought to herself, "A welcoming letter? From the Owens perhaps?"



It wasn't. In fact all it was, was a nursery rhyme. At the top was the title, "Ten Little Indians."

"Ah!" She thought suddenly, "It's the nursery rhyme! What fun! This is Indian Island after all..."

Vera read a little further....

"Ten little Indian boys went out to dine; One choked his little self and then there were nine..."

"How ghastly!" Vera thought, a little jokingly disgusted, "Well the rhyme is a bit gruesome..."

Then her attentions turned towards a teddy bear sitting innocently in the corner of the room. She strolled over to pick it up, and seeings how she was alone, give it a little hug as her inner child would have. Unfortunately, the bear was nothing like what she was expecting. It wasn't cuddly at at all. In fact, it was downright heavy....

"Good grief!" Exclaimed Vera, "What kind of teddy bear is this? It's as though it has been filled with a lot of rocks!"



Despite being rather weirded out, Vera never gave it a second thought as she dropped it back down and walked over to her suitcase to unpack.

[Cluedo]

Downstairs again in the parlor, the men started to take notice of the odd mantle display....

"Quaint these things!" Stated Marston, "What the heck are they?"

"Hmmmmm," Thought Armstrong aloud, "Well there are ten of them."

"Ten, eh?" Noted Blore, "Seems like they are the Ten Little Indians if you ask me."

"Ten Little Indians?" Questioned Marston, "That's a rum go. Well I suppose this Indian Island after all. Funny they don't look like American Indians."

"Perhaps not," Said Blore, "But they do resemble the East Indians or perhaps African Indians."  



The Rogers were now in the Kitchen preparing supper. Mind, the fact it was still late afternoon, but Mrs. Rogers insisted they get a head start due to the amount of guests. She was starting to feel a tad overwhelmed by the guests.

Just then Rogers entered after setting out the plates in the Dining Room.



"Have you got dinner underway?" He asked.

"I'm working on the salad right now." Mrs. Rogers replied, "Anyway, it's not right to be cooking for so many visitors."

"You knew the Owens were having a party." Mr. Rogers reminded sternly.

"Never did they say this many number of guests in the letter!" Declared Mrs. Rogers, "You tell the Owens!"

"Alright," Reassured Roger, "I will have a word with Mr. Owen when he arrives."

"You tell them we're quitting!" Cried Mrs. Rogers, whose pale face turned a shade of red.

Rogers didn't know what to say to that. He never has seen his wife so upset since their last employment. A efficient butler and excellent cook was what they advertised in the papers, and he really wished to keep his word. Now if his wife could just keep her mouth shut....


Their argument went unheard as everybody else was involved in their own thing. Emily and Vera were sitting in the Parlor listening to the outdoor sounds...

"Peaceful sound," Voiced Emily Brent, "The water crashing on the rocks..."



"I hate it!" Burst Vera all so suddenly it took Emily Brent aback.

"I beg your pardon?" Asked Miss Brent, who was still in shock at Vera's comment.

"Oh, excuse me," Vera replied back to her mild self, "I never really liked the sound of the sea much..."

"Well then," Miss Brent was trying to change the subject. She didn't want to upset the poor girl again, "The servants here are quite excellent. Mrs. Oliver was quite lucky to get these two."

"Mrs. Oliver?" Asked Vera, who was a bit surprised, "Don't you mean Mrs. Owen?"

Emily Brent stared at Vera, embarrassed.

"I never met a Mrs. Owen." She replied sharply.

"Well, this is nuisance!" She thought, as her face flushed, "I could of sworn that said Mrs. Oliver on the letter. I don't know a Mrs. Owen! Who's this Mrs. Owen?"

At the end of the room, General MacArthur ignored the two ladies as he was involved with a game of chess with himself.



"It's your turn Leslie, dear." The General thought, as he was absorbed in his thoughts, "Oh..no. That's not right. Damned whole thing. Old army friends? My foot! And wanting to talk about old times? Ha! Spoof Leggard and Johnny Dyer? They are dead probably....just like everyone else."

Not realizing what he was doing, he knocked over his own King in defeat.

[Cluedo]

Detective William Blore was trying to avoid everybody else for the present moment. He was getting a head start on the investigation despite no further instructions from the elusive Mr. U.N. Owen. He sat in the private Library, trying to see if he could get information on Mr. Owen himself, or perhaps even the island! He did find a couple of interesting books of some of the island's old history, as well as a map, and some parchment without writing.




At any rate, he had to be careful being in Owen's Library without permission. He didn't want to bungle his job at any rate. What if Rogers were to come in? Still however, Blore didn't think Rogers would come in here during dinner preparation. Nor did he think Rogers would tell. Deciding on that scenario, Blore relaxed a little, and looked out the window. It was quite cozy in here in fact, and like the old man, Blore did recall knowing about Indian Island before.

"Recall Indian Island when I was a kid myself," Blore thought, "But I never would have guessed I would be given a job in this house. Good thing, perhaps, that one can't foresee the future!"


Upstairs, Anthony Marston was taking a long, hard bath. His tensed, cramped muscles oozed in the warmth of the bath water. It was pure relaxation. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh....." He sighed in a single breath, as he massaged his calves. Being a man of sensation, this was one of his favourite moments.




"A nice steamed bath," He thought wistfully, "Kink out those tired limbs from the drive, perhaps a shave, a c0cktail, dinner, and after...?"  


Meanwhile, Emily Brent was in her bedroom dressing for dinner. Something modest, classy and decent seemed appropriate. A nice black silk dress was a article of choice. The red in her vest not too flashy, and finally she fastened an heirloom broach at the collar.




What now though? There was still time for dinner. Perhaps a good Bible verse would be appropriate. Sitting where she was, she pulled her King James 1611 Holy Bible out from the drawer and opened it up. She stared at the cross that she affixed to the wall close to her bed. As she read her Bible, she mouthed the words along with it....

"The heathen are sunk down in the pit that they made: in the net which they did hid is their own foot taken. The Lord is known by the judgment which he executeth: the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands.  The wicked shall be turned into hell...."

She felt her eyelids get heavy. Better not fall asleep at the dinner table! Perhaps she better take off her spectacles for now. She closed her Bible and put it on the side table as she headed down to dinner....

[haileyharper]

I really like this! We had to read the book in school last year and you did a really good job with this.