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. .Emotional Chaos . ..Number 9. . .September 11
b
Emotional
Chaos
Weekly
Column by Brian Codagnone
Weekly Column by Brian Codagnone
July 16, 2009
THE CURIOUS CASE OF THE RUNNING SAP
It was a bleak November day in London when Inspector Blancmange and I were summoned to Greenbottle in Hastings Upon Skeezix, the ancestral home of the Nesbitt clan. The current Lord of the manor, Lord Cavendish Nesbitt was found the previous day with his head jammed in a sap bucket. Bored with common murders, dismemberments and regicides, Blancmange had been intrigued by the case for a variety of reasons. First, because there were no maple trees in Hastings Upon Skeezix and thus no need for sap buckets. Even more significant was the fact that Lord Nesbitt had a rare but well known fear of pails dating back to his service in Crimea as an officer in the Instep Guards.
"Curious case, this," I commented to Blancmange, who was staring out the window of the 2:45 from Paddington. As usual he was lost in thought and a blue haze of marijuana smoke.
"Curious indeed, my dear Broadbeam, curious indeed." At that he passed out and said no more until we arrived at the closest station to Hastings Upon Skeezix, the small village of Jaundice. Lady Nesbitt had sent a carriage to meet us, and within the hour we found ourselves at the stately hall.
We were greeted at the door and led to the library by a cadaverous servant. There we met an odd mix of family, friends, retainers and employees of the late Lord Nesbitt.
"Good evening, Inspector Blancmange!" said Lady Nesbitt, a bit too cheerfully for someone who found her husband drowned in a bucket of tree sap only the day before,
"A great pleasure indeed, Lady Nesbitt, although it could have been under happier circumstances. Allow me to introduce my associate, Colonel Broadbeam."
"One does what one must, Inspector! You and your friend must be famished after such a long trip! Have some tea, watercress sandwiches, Cornish pasties, and spotted dick!"
"Perhaps, later, Lady Nesbitt. For now I'd like to reveal the killer!"
"So soon? Why, you just got here! Surely even the great Inspector Blancmange can't solve a case that quickly! At least let me introduce you to the rest of our guests. This is my daughter Lipidia, her friend, Penelope, her fiancé, Diggy, my husband's secretary Nigel Lackstud, our family solicitor Carstairs Barrett-Esophagus, my brother Mordred, and of course you met Cirrhosis, our butler."
"I'm sure you're all anxious to discover the truth about the death of Lord Nesbitt, so I shan't waste time. The killer is..."
You could have heard a pin drop, or in the case of Lady Nesbitt a syringe, but that's a story for another day.
"As I was saying, the killer of Lord Nesbitt is... Sir Basil Sigerson Notlob-Jones!"
There was an audible gasp from the assembled cross section of humanity that occupied the room. Finally Nigel Lackstud broke the silence.
"Who?"
"Yes", said Lady Nesbitt, "I never heard of him".
"Nor have we" added Lipidia. Diggy and Penelope nodded in agreement.
"That's because he wasn't in the story before this!" said Blancmange triumphantly. "A brilliant scheme, but he won't get away with it!"
Everyone agreed that it was indeed brilliant.
"So where is this Sir Basil Sigerson Whatsisname now?" asked Diggy.
"As we speak Sergeant Haffwit of the Metropolitan Police and a squad of his best truncheon men are arresting him at his club!
"Ironic, really," I interjected, "You know, club, truncheon... never mind."
"Well, I for one am relieved to know that there isn't a killer among us!" said Mordred.
"On the contrary, one of you is indeed a murderer!"
There was another gasp as the motley assembly eyed each other nervously.
"Who?" asked Penelope innocently.
"You!" said Blancmange, "Last year in Preffixshire! You shot Commander Simon Vivian-Vance in cold blood while he slumbered in his easy chair after you drugged his gin and tonic! Seize her, Inspector Glucose!" Always two steps ahead of the game, Blancmange had secreted Inspector Glucose in our steamer trunk, where he had remained hidden until the right moment.
"I did it, I did! I'm glad I did it!" Penelope shrieked. "I should have done it years before, had I but the nerve!" Glucose put her in cuffs and escorted her out the door to a waiting cab.
"One question, Blancmange" I asked on the train ride back to London. "Who is Commander Vivian-Vance? I never heard of him before today."
"No one had. You see, he wasn't in the story, either. That's what gave me the idea about the murder of Lord Nesbitt! There's nothing new under the sun, my dear Broadbeam!" With that he stuffed his meerschaum pipe with his particular blend of Acapulco Gold and White Russian.
"You never cease to amaze, Blancmange!" I said in understandable amazement.
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