A small murder

Margo sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold before screaming with all her eight-year-old might. When she finished, she heaved anew and yelled again- her dad rushed in first. Still wearing a stained apron and wielding a spatula that dripped grease on her hot pink carpet, he asked “What happened?”

On her knees, Margo sat among woodchips scattered across her floor. Next to her was a small cage toppled over its side. Margo looked up to her father, tears, and boogers flowing freely. Snorting back a loogy, she managed to whimper out, “Mr. Giggles!” before returning to her cries. In her hands, she clutched a pile of blood-covered white and brown fluff. She held out her precious hamster’s remains to her father. The animal was barely recognizable. Its body was crushed into a small pile, bones sticking out and bent in horrible ways. Turning green, her father gagged.

“What’s going on?” her older brother, Philip, stepped into her room. He smelled heavily of Axe body spray, overpowering her room’s strawberry scent. “Oh god,” his face twisted at the grim remains. “Is that Mr. Giggles?” dad sat down on one of Margo’s small chairs that belonged to her play tea table. Its thin plastic legs bent and snapped under his weight, sending him tumbling to the floor.

Margo’s older sister, Lawrence, peaked in from the hall. “Is everything alright?” Her nose ring and black leather jacket decorated with pins of various alt-rock bands contrasted starkly against Margo’s princess pink wallpaper.

“Mr. Giggles is dead,” Philip said, patting his queasy father’s back while pointing at the corpse. Upon seeing the former pet, the eldest sister doubled over Margo’s pony trashcan and vomited inside. The sound of retching pushed her dad over the edge and he joined in the expulsions. He used Margo’s toy chest, despite some toys still being inside.

“Everyone’s being so rowdy up here,” mom said, stepping into the room; her hair and overalls flecked with bits of blue and orange paint.

“Mom! The hamster,” Lawrence pointed out the dead animal.

“Oh, honey,” stepping past her vomiting husband, mom hugged Margo with her still wet hands getting paint on Margo’s dress.

Dad got a hold of his gut for long enough to say “Margo, put it down,” before returning to his reverse lunch.

Margo gently placed the hamster on her white and pink painted tea table. It had been decorated by her mother. Her mom made a face, showing displeasure at having the corpse placed on the table. But she didn’t say anything to stop Margo.

“What happened?” Philip asked.

Wiping her goopy nose clean on her sleeve, Margo stopped crying. She removed her mother’s comforting arms from around her and crawled on top of her bed. Standing to look her family in the eyes, “What happened!” she exclaimed. “Someone in this room-” she paused for dramatic effect. “- killed Mr. Giggles! That’s what happened!” Lawrence and dad looked up from the trash, shocked. Philip and mom looked at each other uneasily. 

“What do you mean?” Lawrence asked.

“What I mean is I’ve been outside all day jumping on the trampoline. Alone! Because, apparently, you’re all too busy for a good jumping. And when I came back inside. Mr. Giggles was out of his cage... Flat as a pancake!”

Mom tried to calm her down by saying, “Honey, I know you're upset but there’s no reason to accuse-“

“Mom, please.” Margo held up a finger to silence her mother. “When each of you entered my room just now, I noticed something interesting from each of you,” hopping off her bed, she strolled over to the door and closed it. “There are two sets of grease stains on my carpet. One added by dad when he just entered,” she crouched down and pointed at a few droplets. Then moved her hand over to an older and darker set of grease stains. Dad realized he was still holding the greasy spatula and put it away in his apron front pocket. “Then I smelled Philip’s Axe body spray. The same smell I sniffed out when I first stumbled upon Mr. Giggles.”

“You’ve been reading too much Sherlock Holmes. This is ridiculous,” Lawrence interrupted.

“Is it?! Then why do I have this?” Margo pulled out a pin of a skull with bat wings. “A pin of your favorite band. Misplaced underneath my dresser,” she explained while handing back the pin to her older sister. “And then there’s this,” Margo took her mother’s hands, displaying how they bore wet blue and orange paint. “The same color paint on your hands, mom, was smeared on Mr. Giggles’ Hamster ball,” everyone stared at the youngest, stunned. “Why were you all in my room today? And which of you murdered my hamster?!”

Margo felt surer in her accusation as she watched them look at each other first with fear and then with shame. The silence rang louder than any admittance of guilt. “I saw dad sneak out of your room earlier! What were you doing in here?” Lawrence pointed at her father accusatorially. Everyone looked to their father.

“Me? Nothing,” he innocently held up his charcoal-blacked hands, before pointing a finger back at Lawrence. “What were you doing sneaking in after me?” Eyes turned to the older sister.

“I never went in here. All I did was catch you.”

Glaring eyes turned back to her dad. “I was just seeing how Margo wanted her burger. But she wasn’t in here,” he looked to his youngest, pleading.

“Interesting,” walking closer to her father, Margo tilted her head. “But I was outside on the trampoline. And you were on the grill. Watching me. And I remember seeing you leave. So tell me, dad,” she grabbed the front of his apron and pulled him close to her. Snarling gapped teeth inches from her father’s face “Are you going blind or are you just a bad lair!” she pushed him away.

“Fine,” he stood up from the floor. “I did come in here earlier. But I didn’t kill Mr. Giggles. I…” he gulped with guilty eyes looking at Margo, then cast down to the floor. “I read your diary.”

The room gasped, shocked at the violation of privacy. Everyone but Margo. She simply let go of him and walked away. Stepping beside her bed, before pulling out an ice-princess notebook. A faint marking of charcoal and grease smudges on the book's edge. “This diary, correct?” His Head lowered; her dad nodded. She tossed it aside. “A decoy diary. Written just for this,” she explained.

“What? It was a fake this whole time. What about all those nice things you write about me?”

“Lies to play your ego. If someone wants it to be true. They tend to believe it.”

“How dare you,” Lawrence growled at her dad.

“How dare I? How dare you! You claim to never have entered the room. And yet your pin was found on the floor. Mr. Giggles was alive when I left.”

“That’s not my pin,” she stepped back.

“You wear that pin all the time,” Philip added. “And moreover, I looked for you earlier and couldn’t find you. I checked your room, the bathroom, kitchen, and garage. Everywhere but here. Where were you?”

Lawrence stammered. “Outside. Getting some fresh air, and all that.”

“I didn’t see you,” Margo added.

“Because I went out the front.”

“Then why was your pin in here? Did it fall off while committing a murder!” it was dad’s turn to point accusatorially.

“She must have stolen it from my room.”

“While she was outside? Plus, I thought you said it wasn’t yours,” dad reminded.

“What did you do!” Margo yelled.

“Play with your dolls!” Lawrence confessed. “I regret getting rid of mine. I miss them all the time,” she sat on Margo’s bed. “And sometimes. I sneak in your room and play with yours. I dropped my pin because... because I put my pins on your doll’s outfits to pretend they’re me. Happy?”

Margo sat next to her sister and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you. After this, maybe we can play with them, together. But for now. No, I’m not happy,” her gaze turned to mom. “Why was your paint on the hamster ball?” All eyes shifted to her mom.

“Fine, you got me. I also read your diary,” she admitted, throwing her hands in the air.

“You said I shouldn’t invade our daughter’s privacy,” dad said.

“And you shouldn’t,” she agreed.

“Then why did you?” he asked.

“Because I was just too curious, I suppose.”

“Lies. You’d never do something like that,” dad declared.

“Okay geez. Wring it out of me why don’t you. I also thought playing with your dolls would be fun,” she picked up a doll and shook it as if she were playing.

“You play with me all the time. You have no reason to be sneaky,” Margo added.

“Philip. Why did this room smell of your cologne?” mom asked pointedly. Redirecting attention.

Philip shook his head, stunned by the sudden shift. “Well. I- I- I-”

“You had to apply a pretty heavy amount for it to linger in a room, and you never put it on at the house. Making everything smell like a musky locker room,” she walked towards him, pointing with the doll.

“I… Smell…and wanted to smell good for dinner,” he backed up into the door. Looking to his siblings and father for help. None reacted.

“Why were you in your sister’s room?” she ended by poking his nose with the doll.

“Uh, uh… Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to distract us from her crimes,” Philip beseeched.

Margo hopped off her bed and placed a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “Tell us, it's okay.”

Lowering his head in defeat, he silently opened the door and stepped out of the room. They followed him a short distance down the hall, stopping in front of his bedroom door. He opened his door. A pretty girl in a cheerleading uniform sat on his bed. She had a controller in hand, playing a videogame on his TV. Pausing the game, she looked at them. “Roxanne, this is my family. Guys, this is Roxanne.”

She waved to everyone with a big smile. Hesitantly, everyone waved back. “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Apanii,” she stood up with a hop and skipped over to them, grabbing both mom and dad’s hands and shaking them. “I’ve been so excited to meet you all.”

“Right,” mom said almost disgusted, before looking to her son and then back to the preppy teen. “Can you give us a second?” mom asked. Roxanne nodded as mom closed the door. “What are you doing with a girl in your room?!”

“We’ve been playing through this game together and she was free this evening, so I snuck her in through Margo’s window,” Philip shrugged.

“Why not introduce us?” mom asked sweetly. Too sweetly… like a firecracker coated with sugar.

“Because I thought you wouldn’t approve,” Philip admitted.

“And why wouldn’t we approve?” mom smiled tight.

“Because she’s, uh. Cheer captain,” Philip flinched as his mother jolted as if stabbed.

“Cheer Captain!” mom exploded. “Looks like we found our killer! I bet she stomped on Mr. Giggles and ate his liver.”

“Sweetheart,” dad held up comforting hands as he tried to calm mom down. “You’re getting fanatical again.”

“Oh, shove it, Robert! The lot are monsters, and you know it! Here to bully innocent girls and steal sweet boys like our Philip and corrupt him. Turning him into some kind of jock!” she looked at her son, revolted. “Are you even in the after-school chess club? Or is that a cover to practice football like a brute!”

“He’s really good,” Roxanne said, stepping out of Philip’s room.

“At sports?” mom reacted as if she didn’t bring it up.

“At chess. That’s where we met. Though I’m more of a mahjong girl myself. He actually managed to get the entire chess club to play it for like a week just to get my attention,” she looked at Philip and nudged him. He blushed.

“And what about Mr. Giggles?” Lawrence asked.

“Who is that?” Roxanne asked Philip.

“Margo’s hamster,” he whispered back.

“That’s his name? He’s so cute.”

“He’s dead,” mom added dryly.

“What happened? He seemed so happy when I crawled in the window.”

“He got stepped on,” Margo clarified. “So, he was alive when you left?” Philip and Roxanne nodded in agreement.

“Liars!” mom declared. “She probably killed poor Mr. Giggles because she knew I loved him so much.”

“You loved Mr. Giggles now?” dad asked.

“Of course,” she responded, wiping away a nonexistent tear. “His little fluffy self brought me so much joy.”

“Really? You’re going to act like you cared about Mr. Giggles now? Ever since we got him for Margo, you couldn’t wait until he died. How many times after cleaning up after his fur and droppings did you joke about getting a golf club and making a home run- which doesn’t match the sport, by the way. Or talking about ‘accidentally’ stepping on him. ‘Hamsters usually die in some horrible way. How come he hasn’t yet.’”

Everyone gasped. “Mom, you didn’t?” Margo asked.

“No, honey, I didn’t. I just don’t like him. He poops a lot. And his fur gets in my paintings,” mom reached for Margo, but she pulled back.

“And that justifies murder?” Lawrence asked, stepping close to her mother.

“No, but I didn’t do it.”

“Then who did?” Philip asked as he maneuvered to the side of mom, opposite Lawrence.

“What happened?” Dad asked, looking for innocence in his wife’s eyes.

“I didn’t come in here to kill him,” she confessed. “You left his hamster ball downstairs. So, I put it away. But when I put it down, it rolled off the shelf. I picked it back up, but it rolled off again. I just got so frustrated. So, I threw it at the wall. And it bounced back and knocked Mr. Giggles' cage over. I tried to catch him. But he was just so fast. Scampered off before I could do anything. I lost sight of him and left. Hoping you’d just think he escaped on his own. I didn’t step on him,” she sat for a moment. “I hope,” she added, more a desire than assurance. 

“So she did it?” Roxanne asked Philip.

“No, I hated the rodent, yes. But I’d never kill him. Those were just fantasies.”

“But you knocked over his cage. Last in the room. It could only be you,” Lawrence accused.

Margo approached her mom. And hugged her. “It's okay. I know you didn’t do it,” everyone looked at Margo surprised.

“Then who did?” Lawrence asked.

“You’re all liars. Keeping secrets. Invading privacy. Hypocrites. But none of you are, well... Follow me. and see what you’re not,” Margo led them back to her room, stopping in front of her dresser. She opened the bottom dresser drawer. Inside, in a hamster ball, sat a perfectly healthy Mr. Giggles. “I knew you had all been in my room. I just wanted to know why. Now I do.”

“But the body,” Philip pointed to the cadaver on the table.

“Extra fluff from Mr. Giggles, plus some chicken bone I got out of the trash, and a splash of ketchup,” Margo said, grinning.

“Ew,” Roxanne added. Looking at the pile of bones and fur.

Margo’s dad walked over to her bookshelf and started taking out all the books. “What are you doing?”

“You are banned from ever reading a Sherlock Holmes book ever again,” he struggled to carry them all, but mom and Lawrence grabbed a few and followed him downstairs. 

“It’s nice to finally meet your family,” Roxanne said. “They seem fun.”

“Something like that,” he said.