Murder on a Silver Platter

Who doesn't love a good old fashioned murder mystery?

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5. Chapter 5

~~“So, Mr. Trishby, where were you when Patricia was seen last?” Bryan asked.
“I was answering the door.”
“So you heard a knock at the door?” Bryan asked.
“Yes.”
“And can that be confirmed.”
“Yes.”
“And your only relation to Ms. Hornswell was she was your butler?”
Al’s face grew red under the light of the closet light bulb, “Yes” he said
“Who was at the door?” Bryan asked
“Is this relevant?”
“It’s just a question.”
“Fine. There was no one there, I assumed it was a prank.” Al crossed his arms.
“Interesting. Now, can anyone confirm that you actually opened the door?” Bryan leaned in from the chair that he was sitting in.
Al paused a moment. “No. You can’t see the door from the dining room.”
“Thank you. That will be all.” Bryan stood then opened the door. He let Al out, took the cuffs off of Arnold and put Al in his place, then led Arnold into the closet.
“Mr. Matthews, where were you when the victim, Ms. Hornswell was murdered?” Bryan started right away, before even sitting down.
“I had gotten up get a rag to wipe up the tea that I spilt into my lap after Mr. Willis bumped into me.”
“Where did you get the rag?” Bryan asked.
“I had gone into the kitchen.”
“Can that be verified?”
“Yes. I was seen by most of the staff. I grabbed one off the dishwasher.” Arnold seemed too pleased with his answers.
“And you wiped it completely clean?” Bryan seemed too pleased as well.
“I don’t see how any of this is pertinent.” Arnold cocked his head.
“Don’t worry. Now could you please answer?”
“Yes, I wiped it clean.” Bryan led Arnold out of the closet and did the same routine with George.
“So, Mr. Willis, where were you when the victim was last seen?” Bryan started.
“I was heading to the bathroom.”
“And you had bumped into Mr. Matthews?”
“Yes.”
“Was she being your friend’s butler the only relation you had with her?”
“Yes” George said. Bryan was starting to doubt whether this man actually was involved.
“Thank you. That will be all.” Bryan led him out of the closet, took the cuffs off of Al and Arnold and led them back downstairs. While they were going downstairs, they spotted the medical examiner packing up the body and leaving with his two detectives. Once he had them back on the couches in the living room, people started questioning Bryan again.
“What is going to happen?” Diana started yelling right away.
“Nothing. Right now all we can do is wait for the results from the medical examiner.”
“How will that help?” Diana asked.
“Well the medical examiner can give us evidence that was left behind by the killer and can identify him.”
“Okay.” Diana went back to curling up in a ball in her husband’s arms. Bryan remembered about how the staff could have seen something, so he told the guests and the Trishbys to sit tight while he questioned the staff. First, he went into the kitchen. He went up to the chef, who was in the middle of making something that looked very green and smelled delicious. "Chef Nicholas" Bryan said.

"Yes detective?" The chef said in a very heavy French accent.

"Where were you when Patricia Hornswell was murdered?" Bryan started his interrogation.

"Well I was here, we all were. Mr. Trishby always has us very busy, especially during his parties like this. He has these just about four times a month." The chef said whom he added something to his pan. "Whenever he has a party, he asks us to make a ridiculous amount of food. We are always busy. Frankly," he leaned in closer,"I'd rather kill Al then anyone else." Before Bryan could ask him anything else, like "would you like to take a ride downtown," the chef was whisked away by a worker, but not before something In French to Bryan that he couldn't understand. Bryan went out of the kitchen, and looked around to find a housekeeper to question. Once he found one, he asked them the same questions as he asked the chef. They said the same thing, only with cleaning instead of cooking. He thanked her, and walked back to the living room where the guests and the Trishbys were waiting.

"How's everyone doing?" He asked. There was a slight mumble to answer, except for Mrs. Trishby who just groaned, her head in her husband's lap. That was when Bryan’s phone rang.
“That would be the medical examiner now.” He took out his phone and pressed on. “Hey, what have you got?”
“I’ve got some things that you won’t believe.
 

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