Suspicions

-------- Cast --------

Alfred Fettuccine - Old lawyer, infamous for his manipulation skills. (and his love for pasta)

Graham Cracker - Born into wealth, never done an inch of work in his life. (His father created the S’More) 

Anne Chovie - First female president of the US, may have made a few bribes in her early career though. (Can stomach any pizza topping)

Shirley Temple - A sweet old librarian, that is, if you don’t check her criminal record. (Rather have fizzy drinks than alcohol)

“Sloppy” Joe Sandwich - Known for making a mess, but getting the job done. (At work and at the dinner table)

Cherry Pie - Was a lead singer of a famous band, but never liked the lead guitarist. (He died soon after the band split up)

Tom Ato - A businessman, who’s known for always wearing a jacket. (He’s also never been stopped at security checks)

Ginger Bread - Spent most of her life in prison, and is living out her last years. (Notorious for practicing voodoo on man shaped cookies)

-------- Suspicions --------

It was a horrible night, the one that gives you goosebumps the second you open your eyes. Thunder crashed in the skies, and lightning illuminated the barren landscape. A twisting road led from the town nearby to the old mansion lying in the hills, which had just been the Warrenfeld residence until just a few seconds ago. The piercing scream of the dying man still rang through the wooden archways, and echoed through the stone chambers. One by one, the windows lit up, and there was a bustle of noise as every guest threw open their doors. They hurried down the stairs, but stopped in shock when they saw the sight in the middle of the room. Seymour Warrenfeld, their previous host, now lay dead on the dining room table. The weapon, a bloody knife, lay next to the body. 

A half an hour later, all eight of the guests still stood in a circle around the corpse. Finally someone spoke. “Well don’t just stand there!” Said Anne. “Check the doors! Check the windows! If they are still locked, then the killer is still in the house!” Each guest woke themselves from their dumbstruck gaze, and ran off in every direction, checking all of the places a killer could have gotten in. But each came back more confused than before. “All of the doors are locked.” Tom said. “From the inside!” “The windows too.” Cherry added. “Then who could have killed Mr. Warrenfeld?” Ginger asked. “Well. It’s obvious isn’t it?” Graham said. “The killer got in when we got in, and is still here right now.” Shirley gasped. “Surely you can’t mean…” Graham nodded. “Yes. One of us is the killer.” Just then, thunder shook the house, sparks flew, and the lights slowly faded out. A few moments later, they came back on, and each guest looked around to see that everyone else had grabbed an object near them to use as a weapon. A revolver, a rope, a lead pipe, a candlestick, a wrench, a dagger, a brick, and the bloody knife. Anne laughed quietly. “How silly of us. This is the 21st century. We can find out who the killer is with our words.” 

They threw their weapons to the floor, and sat around the dining room table where the body still lay. “Here’s how this is going to work.” Anne said. “Each person will describe the person to the left, and their past relationship with Mr. Warrenfeld. Does that sound fair?” Everyone nodded. “Great. I’ll start first”

Tom Ato

“Tom is, as we all know, a very successful businessman, known for making the best brand of ketchup ever. We also know that he wanted Mr. Warrenfeld to sponsor his product, but being allergic to tomatoes, he refused. Now if you go deeper you’ll find that every person that refused to sponsor his product also suffered an accidental death within the next ten years. It could be a coincidence, or…”

“Tom is the killer!” Everyone exclaimed. “Now wait just a minute!” Tom said. “Everyone that refused to sponsor my product were ninety years or older! They just didn’t want to accept that I could make something better than Heinz! Surely you can’t blame me for old age!” Everyone nodded. His explanation made sense. “Now it’s my turn!” he said. 

Shirley Temple

“Shirley has been working at the same library for forty five years, and she is an important member of the community. But you can’t find anything about her life before she was a librarian. That’s because she led a secret life before she settled down. A secret life that Mr. Warrenfeld found out about, according to this letter I found in my room.”

Tom showed the paper to everyone in the room. It read:

The book thief of ‘84, the one who robbed hundreds of libraries

all over the country is none other than Shirley Temple. 

“And this would, of course, give her plenty of reason to…”

“Kill Mr. Warrenfeld!” Everyone shouted, sure they had found the killer. “That would make sense Tom,” Shirley said, “If I had not been the one to tell Mr. Warrenfeld of my past life. He was always the nicest man, and I needed to get the guilt off of my chest. So I made him promise not to tell anyone and he accepted. If you had looked closer Tom, you would have found that the letter was written by me.” Tom looked closely at the letter. “Oh.” Shirley nodded. “Now I suppose that it is my turn.” 

Graham Cracker

“Graham has spent many hours with Mr. Warrenfeld, I know because every time I went to visit him, Graham was always there. One time when I came over, I heard yelling, so I decided to eavesdrop. I heard Graham shout ‘It’s mine and you know it!’ then Mr. Warrenfeld said ‘No please’ and then Graham stormed off saying ‘I’ll get you someday!’ I couldn’t see what was on the table, but I assumed it was money. Now with this crime, I am sure Graham is guilty.” 

Everyone nodded, understanding what she was saying. Graham chuckled. “Sorry, but that was our last day of filming. You see, for years, Mr. Warrenfeld and I were working on a stop-motion movie, and we had just finished it that day. I have it with me if you want watch.” He pulled a CD out of his bag.

An hour later, Anne switched off the TV. “That was the worst movie I have ever seen, but it also excludes Graham from the suspects list.

“Indeed.” he said, “I’m next.”

Ginger Bread

“Ginger hasn’t had an eventful life, most likely because she’s been in prison for sixty years of it. But at the age of twenty, she was responsible for more than fifty murders, and all of the cookie man mutilation in America. And if you were to take a peak at her prison records, you would find that one man was responsible for her capture. Seymour Warrenfeld. I think we can stop this little game now, because we have a mass murderer in front of us, who would have every incentive to kill Warrenfeld. 

Everyone on Ginger’s side of the table leapt up to grab her, but she stopped them. “Now wait just a minute. I owe Mr. Warrenfeld a great favor. I got the help I needed in prison. It was the one place were I fit in. Sixty years ago, he promised to let me go free, if I agreed to change my ways. But I was selfish, determined to get my revenge on the world. He did the right thing, and I will always be thankful. 

The guests nodded at the story. “Sounds like Warrenfeld.” Anne said. “Alright Ginger, you’re next.” 

Alfred Fettuccine

“I know Alfred because he was the lawyer I was told would keep me out of prison. He was known for being the most manipulative man in the business, and always knew how to put money in the right hands. Of course, after everything that I did, he couldn’t keep me out, but he tried his best. I don’t know how he was connected to Warrenfeld though.”

“Why Warrenfeld was the one who got Alfred fired, after he found out about all of bribes and lies!” Anne said. Alfred nodded. “This is true, and I was angry at first. But as we got to know each other better over the years we became best friends. I had no idea somebody could be as intelligent as Warrenfeld, or have the experiences that he had. He really changed me as a person, and I wish he had earlier. Now I’ll go.” 

Cherry Pie

“Now we all know that Cherry is America’s most talented performer, and her band had 10 hits every year for her whole career. What we don’t know is that Warrenfeld is actually Cherry’s father. When she was 16, she ran away from home. She had spent so much time practicing with her band, that she skipped school almost every day, and as I know better than anyone else, Seymour hates to be lied to. My theory is that rather than accept the consequences of her actions she ran, and hated him ever since. All of her songs have a dark theme, perhaps because of her visions of revenge!”

Everyone gasped. “Cherry is the murderer!” Cherry smiled warmly. “Interesting theory Alfred, but unfortunately you’re wrong. The day I left home, I told my father that my band had scheduled a gig in the nearby city. He had known all along of my band, and encouraged my talent. He even provided us with money to pay for travel. That first gig was so successful that we decided to keep playing in different places rather than go home. I was so happy to reunite with my father when the band broke up!” The story was heartwarming, but the body on the table wasn’t. “I’m up.” Cherry said. 

“Sloppy” Joe Sandwich

“Joe is just a regular working man, but five years ago, he was publicly humiliated by father. I know because it was all over the news. Joe had come up with a new way to eat a meal. Rather than having a solid hunk of meat in between two slices of bread, he proposed we have multiple chunks of meat covered in sauce. But on public TV, father said that is was a horrible idea, it would make a huge mess, and it would not look in the least bit appetizing. I don’t think Joe liked that, and now he has made a “sloppy” mess on the table.”

Joe nodded. “He was right. It was a stupid idea, whatever made me think that putting a liquid between two semi-permiable slices would work. In fact I’m glad he shot it down, I can’t help but shutter when I think of all the messes my creation will have made in households all over America!”

Joe sank his head into his arms, and sobbed. Cherry patted him on the head reassuringly, while making the “crazy” symbol above her head. “Only one person to go, you’ve got this Joe. He looked up again. “Ok…”

Anne Chovie

“Anne, more commonly known as the first female president, had some trouble with Mr. Warrenfeld early in her career. Though we all love him, he was stuck in old ways of thinking, and did not want Anne to run for president. He even spoke against it many times in public. He didn’t want anyone to vote for her, and he got pretty angry when she won the election. It would make sense if Anne felt the need to… get closure.” 

Everyone nodded, understanding what Joe meant. “You’re forgetting something Joe.” Anne said, “Every week for about ten years after I left the office, we met, and discussed the importance of feminism. Not only does he agree with me now, he has even told many news stations of his opinions.” 

“Oh yeah…” Joe said. “Wait! That’s everyone! Who’s the killer?” Each person stared suspiciously at the other. 

“Nobody is!” said a voice that nobody had heard so far. “Who was that?” All of the guests said in unison. Then, from the middle of the table, Seymour Warrenfeld sat up, wiped the blood from off of his neck, and stuck it in his mouth. “Mmm, strawberry jam, my favorite!” Everyone stared in shock at the man. “M… Mr. Warrenfeld? You’re alive?” Shirley asked. “Indeed I am, hello my friends. “W… What’s going on?” Graham asked. “Well it’s quite simple really. I invited my dearest friends, some of which are my old enemies, to my house, then faked my death. I am glad to see that I have touched all of your lives in a positive way. I am also thankful to all of you for teaching me some important lessons during my life. There is no better way to end my 90th birthday!” All of the guests present gathered around Seymour, and gave him a hug. 

Just then, lightning struck again, and the lights went out. There was a rush of noise, the scrape of steel, and a piercing scream. When the lights came back, Seymour Warrenfeld lay on the table, a knife buried deep in his stomach. “Oh no.” Anne said, “Not again!”