A/N This is a story I found that I had written in Grade six. Hope you all
like it ( It was my first Solve-It-Yourself that didn't end up completely
confusing.
A/N2 Alright, this is a solve-it-yourself mystery. The answer is on page
two. Don't cheat!
It was Christmas evening. Henry, Sarah and their son Kyle were waiting anxiously by the door for their great-uncle Albert. It had been years since they had met, but apparently that didn't stop him from being late.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the dark oak door. Kyle pulled it open and shrieked "Uncle Al—" but stopped short as two policemen entered the room.
"Mr. and Mrs. Rockford?"
Henry nodded. "That's us."
"Could we talk to you privately? I'm afraid we have some bad news."
Henry nodded and led his wife and the policemen into the kitchen. "Take a seat. Kyle? Go play in the rec. room, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy!" the four-year-old boy scampered off to go play Lego.
The first policeman, who was rotund and pink, was the first to speak. He turned to Sarah. "Albert Penning's your relation, is he not?"
"He is." She looked worried. "Is he in some sort of trouble?"
"I'm afraid he passed away, Ma'am."
She looked shocked. "Albert? Are you sure?"
"Yes. He's already been identified by your sister, Alice."
"What happened?"
The first policeman turned to his partner. "This is your cue, Osward."
Osward, an awkwardly tall and funny looking man, cleared his throat. "Not very pleasant death Ma'am and Sir. Certainly not in the spirit of Christmas."
"Murder?" Henry suggested, his hold on his wife's shoulder tightening. The policemen nodded as Sarah gave out a small shriek.
"What? What...?"
"Beaten. With a baseball bat." Osward shook his head. "One witness saw a man in green and red costume, with a Santa mask over his face, running down the street with a baseball bat. She had no explanation for the bat, but she figured that the mask and costume was for Christmas. Happened early this morning. We tried to track the prints, but it had snowed heavily."
Sarah shuddered and lay her head against her husbands shoulder. "I can't believe it."
"Do you know...anyone who would have a grudge against this man?" Patrick pressured.
Henry nodded. "If you asked around, almost everyone. To the family, he was eccentric, but to other people........." he shook his head. "They said he was nasty.........there, Sarah, don't cry."
"Like who, in particular?"
"Well, no one from the start likes a rich person. For some reason, that's the way it goes. He stole land from people.........ordinary civilians—"
Sarah suddenly stood up, surprising everyone. "I can't stand this. I'm going to play with Kyle." She left the room.
Osward turned to Henry. "Go on."
"—he stole from about every farmer. Pickens, Newberry, Thorpe, Steele, Crest, Brown. Even Rockford, my own parents. He was never kind, and was always formal. He never threw parties, and only those who were family members were allowed to see him without a schedule. He never approved of anyone's spouse...including Sarah's. I didn't take kindly to him first, but I am...well, was beginning to like him."
"Well, did you go out at all today? I see that there's snow on your boots." The rotund man (who's name was Patrick), pointed to the backdoor which led into the kitchen. Lying there were a pair of black, snow-covered boots, with 'Henry' written across the brim.
"I went to go buy a new jacket, for skiing later this week. I went to the Baker Mall. Didn't find anything I liked, though."
"And you didn't see anything?"
"Nothing."
"Well," Patrick said, standing up. "We've got to be going. Sorry about the news on such a normally cheery day." He and Osward walked to the front door, followed by Henry. At the last moment, he said, "By the way, Mr. Rockford."
"Yes?"
"His will has been checked. Your wife inherits five million dollars. Congratulations."
"It was expected," Henry answered. "She was his favorite niece." With that, he closed the door behind them. The policemen strolled down to the driveway, until they were out of earshot.
"Well? When can we arrest him, then?" Osward said.
"As soon as we get back to headquarters." Patrick smiled, pulling out a tape recorder from inside his police jacket. "Good thing he didn't see this in all the sweaters I was wearing, or else he might have been a bit more careful about what he said."
The laughing policemen sped off in their patrol car to the station.
Why do they think that Henry Rockford killed great-uncle Albert? And why would he have?
It was Christmas evening. Henry, Sarah and their son Kyle were waiting anxiously by the door for their great-uncle Albert. It had been years since they had met, but apparently that didn't stop him from being late.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the dark oak door. Kyle pulled it open and shrieked "Uncle Al—" but stopped short as two policemen entered the room.
"Mr. and Mrs. Rockford?"
Henry nodded. "That's us."
"Could we talk to you privately? I'm afraid we have some bad news."
Henry nodded and led his wife and the policemen into the kitchen. "Take a seat. Kyle? Go play in the rec. room, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy!" the four-year-old boy scampered off to go play Lego.
The first policeman, who was rotund and pink, was the first to speak. He turned to Sarah. "Albert Penning's your relation, is he not?"
"He is." She looked worried. "Is he in some sort of trouble?"
"I'm afraid he passed away, Ma'am."
She looked shocked. "Albert? Are you sure?"
"Yes. He's already been identified by your sister, Alice."
"What happened?"
The first policeman turned to his partner. "This is your cue, Osward."
Osward, an awkwardly tall and funny looking man, cleared his throat. "Not very pleasant death Ma'am and Sir. Certainly not in the spirit of Christmas."
"Murder?" Henry suggested, his hold on his wife's shoulder tightening. The policemen nodded as Sarah gave out a small shriek.
"What? What...?"
"Beaten. With a baseball bat." Osward shook his head. "One witness saw a man in green and red costume, with a Santa mask over his face, running down the street with a baseball bat. She had no explanation for the bat, but she figured that the mask and costume was for Christmas. Happened early this morning. We tried to track the prints, but it had snowed heavily."
Sarah shuddered and lay her head against her husbands shoulder. "I can't believe it."
"Do you know...anyone who would have a grudge against this man?" Patrick pressured.
Henry nodded. "If you asked around, almost everyone. To the family, he was eccentric, but to other people........." he shook his head. "They said he was nasty.........there, Sarah, don't cry."
"Like who, in particular?"
"Well, no one from the start likes a rich person. For some reason, that's the way it goes. He stole land from people.........ordinary civilians—"
Sarah suddenly stood up, surprising everyone. "I can't stand this. I'm going to play with Kyle." She left the room.
Osward turned to Henry. "Go on."
"—he stole from about every farmer. Pickens, Newberry, Thorpe, Steele, Crest, Brown. Even Rockford, my own parents. He was never kind, and was always formal. He never threw parties, and only those who were family members were allowed to see him without a schedule. He never approved of anyone's spouse...including Sarah's. I didn't take kindly to him first, but I am...well, was beginning to like him."
"Well, did you go out at all today? I see that there's snow on your boots." The rotund man (who's name was Patrick), pointed to the backdoor which led into the kitchen. Lying there were a pair of black, snow-covered boots, with 'Henry' written across the brim.
"I went to go buy a new jacket, for skiing later this week. I went to the Baker Mall. Didn't find anything I liked, though."
"And you didn't see anything?"
"Nothing."
"Well," Patrick said, standing up. "We've got to be going. Sorry about the news on such a normally cheery day." He and Osward walked to the front door, followed by Henry. At the last moment, he said, "By the way, Mr. Rockford."
"Yes?"
"His will has been checked. Your wife inherits five million dollars. Congratulations."
"It was expected," Henry answered. "She was his favorite niece." With that, he closed the door behind them. The policemen strolled down to the driveway, until they were out of earshot.
"Well? When can we arrest him, then?" Osward said.
"As soon as we get back to headquarters." Patrick smiled, pulling out a tape recorder from inside his police jacket. "Good thing he didn't see this in all the sweaters I was wearing, or else he might have been a bit more careful about what he said."
The laughing policemen sped off in their patrol car to the station.
Why do they think that Henry Rockford killed great-uncle Albert? And why would he have?
