The mailbox creaked as it was opened and shut. A tall blonde man flipped through a large pile of junk mail. Near the bottom a larger letter than the rest poked out. The letter was encased in a red envelope and sealed with wax. The wax mark bared the crest of the Braginski family. A look ofcuriousty crossed over the man's face. He had no connections to this family of such a high class. There seemed to be no reason that they should be sending him a letter.

He broke the seal in one quick motion and pulled out the letter. It read:

Mr. Alfred F. Jones you have been formally invited to the BraginSki Manor on the eve of February 14th at 19:00 sharp. The Master, Mr. Ivan Braginski, will be Throwing a party to celebrate the oncoming marRiage of Maria Chernenko and Eduard von Bock. We ask You to present this invitation at the door before you Can be admitted to the party.

We will be pleased if you could grace us witH your presence on this special Night. Mr. Braginski will be servIng a most delightful selection of foods from arouNd the world. There will also be the fInest vodka moNey can buy. Your attendance is crucial.

SincErely,

The House Staff

'In all the oddities of this I can't help but notice one thing. The last line was hand written. Why is my attendance so important that it had to be notified once more?' Alfred thinks as he walks back into his old house, the snow crunching underfoot. To add more to the puzzles in his mind he noted that there were more capitalized letters then there should be, and all in the wrong places. The door rattled as it hit the door frame behind him. With a few strides of his long legs he entered his bedroom. He made a beeline for the desk at the foot of his bed.

When he reached his desk he flipped on the small lamp. The room flooded with light and revealed many old newspaper clippings of unsolved murder cases. Alfred's room was, as always, cluttered with papers; his thoughts and logic written upon them. He studied the letter in his hand once more and sat down, the wheels in his mind started to turn.

He grabbed one of the many papers around him, and a pen then began to write down the capitalized letters that were out of place. The first was an S in the first Braginski, and the second a T in throwing, then the R in marriage, and the Y in you. The letters started to form a word that was ever so familiar to theblonde. A chill ran up his spine as he realized why a detective was wanted present at the party.

The letters spelled STRYCHNINE. One of the world's most deadly poisons.


Alfred paced the room wringing his hands, growing more nervous as time ticked by. There was a thick coating of perspiration on his palms as he looked at the clock once again. There was only 1 hour until the party. In the three weeks that had passed he pondered greatly on what the letter could have meant. He reached into his pocket and touched it tracing the bumps of the hand written words. There was no choice, he had to go.

He looked back once more at his room then headed for the door. Once outside, Alfred fell calf deep into a pile of snow. With a sigh he trudged to the end of the driveway to the awaiting carriage. As he stepped inside a voice from ahead said:

"Where to sir?"

"Braginski Manor, please," Alfred said, touching his pocket once again.

The driver looked back curiously then gave a nod. With a crack of his whip the carriage set off down the icy road. The bumpy ride caused Alfred's back to tense up; every nerve on edge. If someone were to die this evening then he would have to be ready. He wasn't afraid of losing his life; he knew what to look for.

Outside the pure white blanket of snow made the scenery glisten. Russia was so quiet and peaceful with the snow like this. Alfred let out a breath to release his worries. A large house soon came into view. It was a Victorian house with an intricate design upon the porch, walls, and windows. The design was made of black iron shaped to look like a garden. As the carriage drew closer Alfred could see the design more clearly. It was as if sunflower's were growing up the walls.

The carriage stopped before a large gate with the same sunflower design. The driver stepped down and opened the door for Alfred. He nodded to the young man then returned to his seat and drove off. Alfred set his gloved hand on the icy gate and it moved forward with ease. As he stepped past, from the corner of his eye he could see something small and blue caught in the gate. He pulled it out of the iron and it revealed to be a small blue flower bulb. It was a curious flower to have out here in Russia. He stuck it in his coat pocket and continued to the door.

A tall, brown haired, young man stood at the door waiting for Alfred. He smiled as he approached. Alfred pulled out his invitation and the door man nodded.

"Welcome to the Braginski manor," He said as he opened the door.

Inside a lively party sent out a wave of warmth. There weren't many people and Alfred assumed it was just Mr. Braginski's close friends. Everyone looked toward Alfred and smiled. He nodded his head and they went back to mingling. Alfred scanned the room to see if anything was out of place. But all looked normal.

The tall blonde walked past the threshold, followed by the door man. He scurried off to do something of Mr. Braginski's bidding. Alfred walked across the room, observing the people. They all seemed to know each other and were comfortable in this small get together. The detective spotted Mr. Braginski being handed a bottle from a maid and looked past them. Beyond the two was a man and a woman holding hands, they look as happy as can be. Alfred walked over to them and listened to their conversation with another who stood by.

"Congratulations you two, I just knew it would happen eventually," A lady with long brown hair smiled as she spoke.

Wanting to blend in with the party Alfred decided to congratulate the two, as the party was for them.

"Maria, Eduard," he nodded to each in turn, "congratulations to your engagement. May your lives together be long and full of happiness."

They smiled and he turned to walk away but a hand on his shoulder stopped him. He turned to see a familiar face, a famous one. Ivan Braginski.

"I'm so glad you could make it. My cousin and her fiancé are just as thrilled," he held up a bottle of vodka. "I'm sure after your long ride here you'd love something to drink. Here have some vodka."

Not wanting to be a drag, Alfred accepted a glass. Not that it seemed it would matter to the fellow. By the pink of his cheek he could tell he had already had a bottle or two to himself. Alfred walked away with the glass in his hand. Looking around at the room a nice mood overwhelmed him. It felt like nothing could go wrong; like the letter didn't matter anymore. With the warm feeling around, the blonde touched the cup to his lips for a drink.

He was shocked out of the bliss as bitterness spread across his tongue. He quickly pulled the glass from his lips as a scream tore through the room. Turning back to where he left the light haired manor owner before he watched as said man fell to the ground. The man's body started to convulse and twist and any liquid in his mouth became frothy. It was a horrid sight and Alfred knew more than anyone that this man's life would be at its end within a few moments.

"Everyone, I want you to go into the next room over! I am a detective and you are all under suspicion of the murder of Mr. Ivan Braginski," Alfred stared down anyone who could take their eyes from the dying man as he took the situation into hand.

Their eyes were fearful and wary. They all followed suit though and went into the next room. He glanced once more at the man on the floor. Alfred could see Mr. Braginski's body lay limp as all life left from the man. With a glance around he saw a kitchen hand scurrying out of the room. Quickly he grabbed them and asked them to take Mr. Braginski to his room and gently lay him on his bed. They nodded as he walked into the other room to interrogate the people at the party.

Alfred called them each over, one at a time, and talked with them. Soon after an hour he had everyone's background, name and connection to Mr. Braginski. None of them seemed to hold any hostility towards the fellow. He looked across the room once more, counting the heads. He recounted it twice more, but something was off.

"Where is the maid that was giving Mr. Braginski his vodka," Alfred asked.

"I believe… She went up to… Ivan's room," Maria said through sobs.

The detective nodded and headed for the door.