Murder at the Banquet

OK, so I told you guys about this like a month ago, but I've finally gotten around to writing it. Good thing too, what with our performance on the 13th, and the day I'm writing this being the 9th. Anyway, for those that don't know, this is based on the play my drama class is doing. I'd also like to thank Evangeline Vera, who finally motivated me to get this started, and DREAFLO09, who gave me the idea in the first place. This should be around a chapter for each scene, so probably three. Italics symbolize sarcasm or just general emphasis. Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story or the play it's from. Robert Lavohn wrote the original script. I was an actor in it though. I had Alex's part.

First, a cast list:

Mitchie Torres- a young detective with a grudge. Descendant of Dr. Watson

Claudette Pindu- a French sleuth

Agatha Preakness- an aging British mystery solver

Alex Russo- a flippant young detective. Descendant of Sherlock Holmes

Wanda Winters- a seeming airhead

Jack Diamond- a gumshoe past his prime

Chief Harley Stanton- a hillbilly sheriff

Nathan Wimberly- the upper crust British man

Assorted Waiters

~Scene one~

Everyone slowly entered the hall. It was to be a small gathering, just a few of the nominees were left. Tonight the award would be presented. They started to sit, Alex, Wanda, Jack, and Agatha at one table, Mr. Wimberly, Claudette Pindu, and Chief Stanton at the other head table. A few scattered audience members were seated below their platform. All were happily chatting until Wimberly tapped his spoon on his glass and moved to the podium in the middle.

"Good evening. My name is Nathan Wimberly. As the president of the International Association of Mystery Solvers, it is my pleasure to welcome you to this, our First Annual Mystery Solver Hall of Fame Induction Banquet. As you know, tonight we announce which of our three finalists will be our first Hall of Fame inductee. The winner will receive a handsome plaque, and a bronze bust will be placed in our Hall of Fame. Also, the Hall of Fame inductee will receive one quarter of a million dollars in gold Krugerands."

As he got to this point in his speech, a waiter noisily dropped a tray behind him. Everyone turned to look at her before slowly turning back to Wimberly.

"Ahem," he continued, "I would also like to note that this is a special night for me as well. After many years of service, I am stepping down as president of the IAMS to enjoy a long awaited retirement." His tone became sharper and he sounded quite annoyed as he proceeded, "Our finalists will be introduced by the current vice president of the IAMS, and your next president, Ms. Claudette Pindu. Ms. Pindu has been heading up the rewriting of our constitution. Among the changes she's sponsored has been the two term limit for presidents, which explains why I am retiring. Ms. Pindu, if you will introduce the finalists, please." He then returned to his seat, all the while glaring at the woman who was taking his place, whether at podiums or in organizations.

"Thank you so much, Captain Wimberly. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say how sorry we are that you'll be leaving us." He rolled his eyes. "Before tonight's award is presented, I will briefly introduce each of the finalists and ask each of them to say a few words. Our first finalist is Mrs. Agatha Preakness, who has solved over 700 murders in her lengthy career. She is considered Great Britain's most famous living detective. Mrs. Preakness celebrated her ninety-eighth birthday just last week. Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Agatha Preakness!" Everyone in attendance clapped respectfully, including Mrs. Preakness. Claudette seemed surprised for a moment before regaining her composure. "Uh... Mrs. Agatha Preakness! …Ahem! Mrs. Preakness!" She bent down to the old woman's ear, "Mrs. Preakness, it's time for you to give a speech!"

"A peach? No thank you dear. But a nice bowl of guacamole would be just ducky."

"Mrs. Preakness, you're supposed to give a speech to the audience."

"Oh, certainly dear. But I can't do it while you're standing in my way, now can I? Be a good girl and go get me some guacamole." She then stood and hobbled towards the podium. "My dear colleagues, after seven decades of solving various murders everywhere from Austria to Zimbabwe, I never thought a day as auspicious as this would arrive. I am reminded of the words of my Great-Aunt Winifred." With that, she hobbled back to her chair, the others clapping hesitantly.

Claudette stepped back up. "Th-thank you, Mrs. Preakness. Our next finalist-"

"Dear, did you get my guacamole?"

"No, not yet Mrs. Preakness. Our next finalist-"

"There is simply nothing better than a nice bowl of guacamole."

Claudette laughed accommodatingly, somewhat annoyed. "Our next finalist-"

Agatha turned to Jack Diamond at her right. "Gracious, they invite you to be guest of honor and they can't even procure a simple bowl of guacamole!"

Claudette, clearly frustrated now, growled, "I will get your guacamole in a minute, but right now I need to introduce the next finalist!"

"And a few crackers off to the side, if you don't mind."

Claudette rolled her eyes. "Oui, crackers. Certainly couldn't forget the crackers." She shook her head. "Our next finalist has worked out of San Francisco for the past fifty years. He achieved prominence by solving the case of the Maltese Pigeon in 1948. He is accompanied by his secretary, Ms. Wanda Winter. Now that Mr. Diamond has officially retired, Ms. Winter will help him compile his memoirs of over five decades as a private detective. Ladies and gentlemen, Jack Diamond!"

The man in question, in his mid-seventies, moved to the podium, peering side to side before leaning casually on it. "Thank youse all. I been a private eye for longer than mosta youse guys have been alive. And I can tell ya, it ain't the same as it used to be. Back in my day, if you wanted information from a stoolie, you'd just hang him on a coat rack and threaten to fill him full of hot lead if he didn't squeal. Nowadays, you gotta obey laws and stuff. Why, you can't even smoke anymore. I been smoking for fifty years and it never hurt me-" He paused to cough harshly into his elbow- "Never hurt me any."

Claudette moved to help him down. "Thank you Mr. Diamond."

He shoved her back, her looking quite offended. "Get your paws offa me! I ain't done yet. I just wanna thank Wanda for all the help she's been these past few years. I don't always remember things too good no more, but Wanda, she's got a mind like a... watchacall..." He paused, clearly searching for a word.

"Ooh, a steel trap, Mr. Diamond?"

He snapped his fingers, pointing at her. "Yeah, that's it. Thanks Wanda, and thanks to all youse guys for this honor." He started back to his seat, but quickly turned back, raising a finger. "Oh, and one more thing. I wanna encourage all of youse to contribute to the Mystery Solvers Retirement Fund. I don't mind telling you this old detective don't have much of a nest egg built up. Guys like me, we need your help."

Claudette returned to the podium. "Our final nominee is the-"

"Dear, I'm still waiting on my guacamole."

She turned toward the kitchen, yelling now. "Would someone please bring Mrs. Preakness some guacamole?" A waiter quickly appeared with a bowl, which Mrs. Preakness promptly pushed away as the speech went on. "Thank you. Now then, our final nominee is the late Sherlock Holmes. He is known worldwide for his incomparable skill at observation and deduction. Perhaps his most famous case is the Hound of the Baskervilles. Tonight, representing the family of Sherlock Holmes is his great-great grandniece, Alex Russo."

A younger girl, around twenty years old, stepped to the podium. She was dressed in a semi-formal fashion, a nice dark green sweater and a pair of khaki pants. She smoothed her long dark hair before speaking.

"Thank you. I'm very pleased to be here representing my great-great granduncle in the company of so many prestigious detectives. As Sherlock always said-"

Then, right in the middle of her speech, a young woman came charging in from the audience, carrying a large sign and shouting "Up with Watson, down with Holmes! Up with Watson, down with Holmes!"

Wimberly stood quickly. "Here now! What's the meaning of this?"

Claudette stood as well, albeit more aggressively. "How dare you interrupt our dinner?"

Finally Chief Stanton stepped in. "Young lady, I warned you not to come here tonight!"

Wimberly looked toward him. "Chief Stanton, is this that Torres that's been stirring up trouble all week?"

Said girl looked indignant at this, stepping up onto the stage as she spoke. "My name is Mitchie Torres, proud descendant of a long line of Watsons! Sherlock Holmes was a fraud! My great-great granduncle, Dr. Henry Watson, solved each and every one of Holmes's cases."

"That's preposterous!" Claudette interrupted, "Holmes was the genius. Watson just recorded the events."

"My great-great granduncle was too modest to admit what a great sleuth he was. He allowed his friend Sherlock to take the credit, just like this self-aggrandizing lunkhead is doing tonight!"

Now it was Alex's turn to look indignant, stabbing her finger toward Mitchie. "Hey, watch who you're calling... whatever it was you just called me."

Stanton attempted to take control. "Ms. Watson, you keep mouthing off to everyone like that, I'm gonna haul you off to the county jail!"

"Why, yes, some Jell-O would be lovely." Everyone turned to Mrs. Preakness with questioning looks for a moment, before getting back to their argument.

"A grave injustice is about to be committed here. I cannot stand idle and allow such a perversion of justice to take place. Up with Watson, down with Holmes! Up with Watson, down with Holmes!"

"I've heard enough of this claptrap. Lady, it was Sherlock Holmes and his faithful sidekick, Dr. Watson. Sidekick. Side-kick! Like the Lone Ranger and Tonto, Batman and Robin-"

"Howdy Doody and Buffalo Bob."

"Are you calling my great-great granduncle a dummy?"

"If the strings fit, wear 'em." Mitchie finished, crossing her arms and turning away from Alex, who by this point looked quite frustrated.

"Everyone, please be quiet. Ms. Watson, I assure you, we'll give ample consideration to your claims. But can't we at least continue our ceremonies?" Wimberly stated, trying to calm things down.

Mitchie's hands went to her hips. "Do you promise a fair hearing on the matter?"

"Yes! Now please, have a seat and let us go on." She reluctantly did as she was asked. "Ms. Russo, perhaps it would be best if we moved on? If that's all right with you."

"Of course, Captain Wimberly. I wouldn't want to disrupt the proceedings...as others have." She turned her head, staring at Mitchie as she returned to her seat.

Wimberly stepped back to the podium. "At this time, I'd like to ask Chief Harley Stanton to say a few words. Chief Stanton!"

"Howdy. I'm happier than a tick on a bulldog to be here tonight. Being the chief of police in a place like this, I haven't had the opportunity to solve as many cases as our nominees. But, if I could toot my own horn just a little, I'd like to tell you about the time ol' Farley Dunbar's prize coon dog showed up missin'. Let me tell you, there was lawmen from three states huntin' for that hound. They hunted up one side of his farm and down the other. Well, I figured the best way to find a coon dog was to think like a coon dog."

"That must have been a very simple task for you."

He looked over to Agatha, one eyebrow raised. "'Scuse me?"

"I was just asking for a basket of fruit, dear."

He shook his head, turning back to the podium. "Well, to make a long story short, yours truly found the dog. She'd just wandered into one of the old houses round here and gotten lost. All the old houses and buildings round here have lots of secret passageways for smuggling. And as a matter of fact-" He stopped suddenly as Jack began to snore loudly in his chair. Wanda noticed and pushed his arm.

"The Fat Man! He's gotta be in Zanzibar! I...what?" He looked around slowly, remembering where he was.

"Well, I guess I know when my time is up. At this time, it's my very great pleasure to reintroduce you to the president of the IAMS, Nathan Wimberly. Nate, come on up here and present this here award." He patted Wimberly on the back and returned to his seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present our first annual Hall of Fame award, and these gold coins to..." He opened the envelope slowly, everyone's eyes on him, "The family of Sherlock Holmes!" Alex stood with a fist pump, walking towards him, as everyone but Mitchie cheered. Then, as she reached him, the lights went out.

Stanton quickly took charge. "Okay everybody, just stay where you are. Does anybody have a flashlight?"

Jack rolled his eyes in the dark. "No, I left mine in my other jacket."

Claudette stood quickly. "I think there are some candles in the kitchen. I'll go get them." She headed that way, crashing through Alex on the way. "Oops, excusez moi."
Mitchie finally spoke up. "Did anyone think to try the light switch?" Everyone suddenly considered this, as a collective 'oh!' filled the room.

Claudette crossed the room again. "I believe the light switch is right over here."

"Ow! That's my nose, you imbecile!" Mitchie yelped.

"Oops, excusez moi."

Mitchie crossed back to where Claudette had started. "Here's the light switch."

When the lights did come on, everyone was surprised to find Captain Wimberly slumped over the podium, a knife in his back.

Stanton approached him slowly. "Hold on now, everybody just calm down. Captain Wimberly, are you all right?"

Alex joined him, stepping forward. "Gee, he seems fine other than the knife sticking out of his back!"

"He's dead!" Stanton exclaimed, Alex gesturing towards the knife, mouthing 'duh'.

"You know," Jack interrupted, "I'm not one to stick my nose where it don't belong, but shouldn't somebody maybe call the cops?"

"Hold on there now! I'm in charge here. This is under my jurisdiction. We'll handle this my way!" Stanton paused. "Ms. Pindu, why don't you go call the police."

Mitchie rolled her eyes. "The man obviously has a gift for leadership."

After a short silence, Mrs. Preakness spoke up. "With all due respect, Chief Stanton, but while we are waiting for the police, isn't it possible...oh dear me, I do ramble on so...but isn't it possible the murderer is making his escape?"

Stanton jumped a little, the thought just occurring to him. "Okay, everybody stay where you are! Nobody move! Who's missing?"

Finally Wanda spoke. "Well, other than Ms. Pindu, everybody is exactly where they were when the lights went out... other than Captain Wimberly. Oh, by the way, wasn't the captain holding a bag full of gold coins?" Everyone looked around, remembering them nearly simultaneously.

Mrs. Preakness never left her seat, calmly stating "Maybe they're on the ground."

Claudette entered from the kitchen, one hand held behind her back. "Excusez moi."

"If you want my guess, when we find the murderer we'll find the coins." Jack told Stanton.

"Excusez moi."

"What makes you so sure it was a murder?" Stanton questioned back.

Alex and Mitchie looked towards him together. "Stabbing oneself in the back is not a common method of suicide!" They turned and stared at each other before shaking their heads. The group then started arguing again.

"Excusez moi!" Claudette screamed.

"What is it, girl?" The argument stopped as everyone faced her.

"The phones are dead!" She spoke over a crack of thunder.

Stanton brushed it off. "Well, it's probably the storm."

"I don't think so!"

Jack's head tilted. "Why not, shweetheart?"

She brought her arm forward to reveal half of a phone. "Because the phone was ripped out of the wall!"

This was generally upsetting news for everyone. Stanton had all could do trying to regain control of the situation. "Okay, let's get calm here folks. There's nothing to worry about. When I don't check in, my deputies will come over here to check things out."

"When will that be?" Jack asked, turning around to face him.

Stanton's shoulders shrugged, he looked somewhat sheepish. "Uh, about six a.m. tomorrow."

Alex threw her hands up, pacing in a short circle. "Swell! So we're trapped in here with a murderer until then?"

"Not necessarily. We could simply leave."

"Uh-unh Mrs. Preakness. Nobody leaves here until this mystery is solved."

"Then perhaps we should turn our attention to finding the murderer, before the murderer turns his attention to us!"

"Well, if I had my guess, it would be that hot-headed young vixen over there." Stanton pointed to Mitchie. "We all know she had a bone to pick with Wimberly, and Holmes getting the award could have put her over the edge!"

Mitchie rolled her eyes at him. "Good thinking chief! It was really clever of me to stab him while standing over here. You might consider the finalists. They were a bit closer, especially Ms. Russo." She finished, pointing toward Alex.

Alex, in turn, looked shocked. "What motive did I have? I was getting the money anyway, and why would I kill Wimberly?"

Jack turned his attention to her now. "Well chum, you may not have had a motive, but you definitely had the best opportunity. You were right next to him when the lights went out."

Alex became indignant, pointing over to Claudette. "So was Claudette Pindu, and everyone knows she and Mr. Wimberly didn't get along!"

"Captain Wimberly was like a father to me. I would never have killed him!"

Mitchie walked in front of her. "Not even for a sack full of gold?"

Claudette glared at Mitchie for a moment before turning to Jack. "If anyone needed the money, it was Mr. Diamond. He told everyone he's bankrupt!"

Agatha interrupted as always. "Each and everyone of us is a potential suspect. We should not start placing blame until we have more facts."

"Well," Stanton started, "one way or another, we're all here until this case is solved. No way am I gonna let a potential murder suspect waltz out that door." Everyone seemed somewhat saddened by the news.

"Well, let's try to look on the bright side." The group turned to look questioningly at Wanda as a silence fell over the room.

Alex was the first to speak, going back to her pacing. "My award was stolen, a man was killed, I'm locked up here with a hick sheriff, a bunch of old detectives, and a woman who spends her life maligning my ancestors. How much brighter can it get?"

"No, really. With all you great detectives, especially Jack," she leaned into his arm,"this case should be snap to solve." She finished, actually snapping as she said it.

It was Mitchie that spoke next. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. Mrs. Preakness was right when she said we're all potential suspects. But if one of us is a murderer, he or she is going to be tough to catch. No one in the world knows more about killing someone than a detective. And if one of us is the murderer, then the rest of us could be victims!"

So there's scene one. I hope you enjoyed the murder and alliteration. I'm gonna get to work on scene two once I get back from Atlanta on the 30th. But for now, who do you think dunnit? Let me know. ~SGM