The Aging Eccentric

The inspector arrived at the decrepit home of Sir Reginald Wingcroft. Upon first glance he thought, “This place must have been magnificent once.” But now the wrought-iron gate lay twisted in the ground, the stairs were a skeleton of thin boards rotted years ago, and there were only two windows that hadn’t been shattered by teenagers looking to escape their mundane lives. He carefully hoisted himself up to the porch and walked through the unlocked door to find five individuals in a heated discussion.

“If I had found him like that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have stood there!”

“If you had found him, you probably would have gone sloshing through the crime scene messing up all the evidence!”

“Speaking of evidence, did anyone find a weapon?”

The inspector cleared his throat, “Hunh Humgh!” All five heads turned to look at the newcomer who had dared to interrupt them. “Who are you?”

“I am detective Scott Alcorn. Someone called me about a possible murder that took place here?”

All five heads turned back into the circle and once again began talking simultaneously. “Claire – I told you we would handle this in-house!” “I’m not the one who called! Why don’t you ask Jack about it?” “Hey, don’t get me mixed up in this.” “Well, someone called the cops, and it sure wasn’t me!”

“Please. Excuse my interruption, but I think I can explain.” Scott took a few steps in their direction. “I’m not sure who called me. They left a message on my machine, and they used a voice-altering app so I couldn’t identify them if I tried. They mentioned that they were afraid that not only had a murder taken place, but that the murderer was still here, and that they were afraid that there might be another victim if the culprit wasn’t caught soon.”

That seemed to silence the small crowd. Their looks changed from pure anger to a little bit of shock and distrust as their eyes flitted from one to another. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d really like it if you could all stay here another night or two until we sort this all out. If everyone cooperates, I think we can finish up pretty quickly.”

This was clearly not welcome news to the crew as grumblings and murmurs about “…on my vacation…” and “…better things to do…” could be heard, among other things. “Thank you,” nodded Scott, “If you would be so kind as to all retire to your rooms, I would like to examine the body and then I’ll question each of you in turn. I put an order in for pizza and wings that should be arriving shortly and the delivery boy has instructions to bring portions to each room. Thank you for your compliance.” Though pizza was a far cry from the kind of fare they were used to around here, they knew better than to complain and one by one they filtered out and up to the rooms on the second floor.

Scott headed over to the kitchen where they had been gathered and saw the pool of blood first. The body lay face down with a slashed throat and a heavy gash to the head. If Scott had to guess, the gash came first, then the cut. The cops arrived at the same time as the pizza and he stepped out to let them do their job while he followed the delivery boy up stairs.

If there’s one thing Reginald Wingcroft was known for, it was his eccentricity. Each of his guest rooms were a different theme. The first one Scott entered was “Bears.” There was a bear rug in front of a fireplace, bear heads on the walls, kitschy bear lamps and décor, and several bear skins on the bed. “Pizza’s here!” the delivery man stepped into the room and the short, blonde-haired woman who had been looking out the window turned around and gave a slight smile. “Thank you, young man.” He placed the bag on the table closest to him then left for the next room down. Scott figured it was best not to waste any time, “How well did you know the deceased?” She scoffed and opened the box of wings, “Well enough.” Scott waited patiently while she ate a couple drummettes and then continued, “I’ve known him since high school. We dated for a bit. Even went to homecoming together one year. But he was always a bit too strange for my tastes and we remained just friends after that.” She opened the pizza, but decided against it and closed it again. “After I divorced my first husband Reginald was there for me when everyone else judged me. He was still a little…out there…but he knew when to call and see how I was doing; take me out for a bit around town, that kind of thing. He never over-stepped my boundaries, and once I remarried I saw him less and less. Until this weekend.” She paused, then added, “I received a letter saying that Reggie wanted me to come listen to a ‘reading,’ that he wanted my input as a writer. I hadn’t published anything good in over a decade, so my ego was flattered and I didn’t resist. Only I never found out what it was he was planning to read. Shortly after getting my things to the room, I went downstairs to get ready for dinner. I sensed something was wrong, and then I saw the blood coming out of the kitchen…I had never seen that much blood before…” She stopped talking and her eyes were fixated someplace far from the bears in the room. Scott gently prodded, “Do you have any idea who would have wanted to harm…Reggie?” She didn’t say anything at first, but then she blinked and turned to look at him. “It was Colt. He was the first one here and the strongest of all of us. Plus, I think he’s a distant relative of Reggie’s and might have been in the will. I’d talk to him if I were you.”

Scott walked down the hall a bit past a room with trees stretching out over every surface, and came to the room Eleanor was staying in. This was clearly the “Blue Room.” Eleanor was seated on her bed with a book in her lap, the pizza and wings untouched on the table by the door. Scott knocked lightly on the door frame and walked in. “Is it okay if I ask you some questions now? I know it’s getting late, but the more ground I cover tonight the sooner everyone can go home.” She closed the book and sighed, “I suppose you might as well. I think this whole thing is ridiculous. It’s obvious that Jack killed Sir Wingcroft.” Scott was surprised that she dove in so quickly without any prodding from him. “Why do you think it was him? What motive did he have to kill the victim?” She threw her legs over the side of the bed and quickly got up to walk right next to him. “He told me. When we got here. I introduced myself and he flippantly remarked that he was only here because he figured there must be some cash involved, knowing Wingcroft. Then he stormed off to his room. The next time I saw him was when I came running after hearing Claire scream and I saw the body in the kitchen and Jack was right. there. The only thing that would have been more obvious was if he was still holding the knife in his hands.” Scott mulled this over then asked, “And what relationship did you have with the victim? Why were you invited to this…event?”

Eleanor appeared lost for a second before quietly offering, “I was his wife. His latest wife. Number seven in the line-up. I know, it must make me sound like a fool. But being young, and poor, there’s a lot to be said for someone who is willing to make all your troubles go away. And he was actually a very kind man. He never raised his voice to me once, and I know he loved me.” Scott let the un-asked question hang in the air until she finally offered, “I didn’t expect to find love. I didn’t want to hurt Reginald. But I had so much life ahead of me, and I wanted to have fun, you know?” Scott had an idea that he understood what she was saying. He had pursued someone fun once, too.  It hadn’t ended well. “Thank you for your time, ma’am. And if you can think of anything else that might help us figure out who did this, please let me know.” He left her room and heard her open the bag of food on his way out.

The room across the hall was an underwater theme. Murals on the walls depicted seahorses and seaweed, coral and anemones. Netting hung from the ceiling filled with starfish, shells, and other sea-related items. Colt “The Cowboy” Gibbons lay sprawled out on the bed face down. His pizza box was empty and chicken wing bones lay scattered on the table. Scott rapped his knuckles on the door loud enough for Colt to jump awake. “Got a minute?” he asked as Colt groaned and rolled over. “Sure. Why the hell not?” Scott pulled the chair shaped like a sea shell over to the side of the bed. “What brought you here this weekend? How do you know the victim, and do you know who would want to hurt him?” Might as well cover all his bases. He was getting tired and wouldn’t be able to think straight in a couple of hours. Scott took a minute before answering. “Reg and I go way back. Grew up together on the farm. ‘Course, his daddy owned it and my daddy worked it, but we was friends none-the-less. Didn’t find out until a few years ago that my daddy was actually his cousin, three times removed or somethin’ like that. Which means me and Reg were cousins, too.”  Scott nodded, encouraging him to go on. “Reg called me up out of the blue and said I needed to come over right away. Somethin’ important had happened and he needed my help. I had come downstairs after puttin’ my stuff away, and then headed into the kitchen to grab a snack. I thought it was odd that Jack was just standin’ in the middle of the kitchen until I realized that he was lookin’ down at somethin’, his eyes frozen with fear. I saw the body in all that blood and my first thought was that an animal had been butchered. Too much time spent in the slaughterhouse, I guess. But then I realized it was Reg and my knees went weak. I felt someone bump into me from behind, then I heard a scream, and next thing I know everyone was downstairs and in shock. Except Mike. He didn’t come down until a good half-hour later. I don’t know how he missed the scream, but he said he was listenin’ to the radio or somethin’ like that. But if you ask me, that seems highly suspicious, as we don’t get no radio stations this far into the valley.” Scott stood up and slowly walked to the door. His head was getting heavy and the thoughts were taking longer to sort themselves out. “Thank you for your time, Colt. It’s much appreciated.” Colt nodded, then rolled back over and almost immediately began snoring. Scott wished he was snoring. But he had two more interviews to conduct.

Mike’s room was around the corner and Scott wasn’t sure if the theme was supposed to be “fantasy” or “sci-fi.” He felt like he’d walked into a children’s book. It took him a minute to spot Mike in the corner seated at a table shaped like a pirate ship. He was dressed in a suit and tie which was loosened but still hung around his neck like a scarf. The food was open but remained untouched. “Mike?” Scott ventured. “MIKE?” he said a bit louder this time. Mike slowly turned his head and looked through Scott into the hallway. “Can I ask you some questions? I won’t be long. It’s time I hit the hay soon.” Mike was silent again, as if the question didn’t even register. His hand was resting on a folded paper lying on the table. Scott walked over and gently picked the paper up out of Mike’s hand and started reading.

My Dearest Beverly,

I know you have asked me to stay out of your life, and I have respected your wishes up to now. But I need my son to know that his father did not abandon him. That it wasn’t my choice to not be there when he rode his first bike or drove his first car. I admit that I did sneak in to his graduation, and I was so proud of our boy! I even briefly thought about shaking his hand, but I respect you enough to have stayed away. But I fear that my time on this earth is coming to an end. I had a rather unpleasant doctor’s appointment today and I would like you and Michael to come visit me this weekend to hear what I have to say. I know it would be quite the shock for Michael to find out this way, but you don’t have to tell him. Just say that you are visiting an old…friend. I trust that you will know what to do with this letter, whether you share it with him or not. But please don’t let the boy suffer for my mistakes. He has a bright future ahead of him (at least I passed something on!) and I only want to ensure his success. With much respect (and dare I say love?),

Reginald Wingcroft

Scott didn’t know what to say. Mike was Sir Reginald’s son? How long had Mike known? By the looks of it, not long. “Mike...Michael…When did you first read this letter?” Mike finally looked over to Scott. “My mother told me we were going on a trip to meet an old, peculiar friend of hers. She seemed off somehow…nervous…or scared. She kept eying the cabinet in the corner and wringing her hands. So I got worried, and when she left to get some things from the store I opened the cabinet and found the letter. I left before she came home. I didn’t know what I would say to this “father” I’d never known. I didn’t know what to think. I had just gotten up the courage to go downstairs to find him when I heard the scream. I was already so edgy that I quickly ran back upstairs to my room until curiosity got the better of me and I ventured down again. That’s when I heard them talking…and realized that the father I never knew would always remain a mystery to me – he was dead!” Scott wanted to ask him more, but frankly he felt the man had been through enough in one day, and besides, his bed was calling him. “I’m sorry for your loss. For what it’s worth, your dad seems like he was well-liked and kind.” Mike nodded lightly and a tear escaped his eye. Scott backed out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts.

The last suspect was in the room across from where Scott had decided to stay. It was the only room that was decorated in a manner that didn’t make it stand out from any other house on the street. Jack had a drink in his hand and it was clear that it wasn’t his first. “Do you mind if I ask a couple quick questions?” Scott ventured. Jack didn’t answer, but lifted his hand with the drink as if to say, “Go on.” “Why were you invited this weekend, and do you know who killed Wingcroft?” He knew his questions were getting sloppy, but he was too tired to care. “I thought I was invited because Mr. Wingcraft owed me a favor. I once got him out of a sticky situation, and he always told me that he’d make good on it one day. I figured that this was that day. I went to confront him and walked into the kitchen from the back entrance and almost tripped over something….Turns out that “something” was him.” Scott didn’t want to imagine how that must have felt. “As for who did him in? Why don’t you go ask the girls. Both of them have motive, if you ask me. One’s his ex, and the other always seemed jealous to me. They both wanted a piece of him and I don’t care if they seem all sweet and innocent-like. They’re like every other woman out there – conniving. They’ll rob you while giving you a slice of pie, make no mistake. And now, I would like to get some shut eye, so I’ll kindly ask you to leave my room, please.” Scott couldn’t keep up with everything Jack was saying and his brain was trying to calculate everything. “Sure. I need to get some sleep, too.”

Scott headed off to his own room mulling the five stories in his head. Each person had been named by one of the others as the possible culprit. But they couldn’t all have done it. Could they? He had a lot to think about, and he needed to cross examine them all. But one thing was for sure. Someone had killed Sir Reginald Wingcroft, and it was his job to make sure they didn’t kill again. But that would all have to wait until morning. He pulled off his shirt, threw himself on the bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.