Story 603: Choose Whodunit

            (In a small village, the six sole occupants gather in the mini-square)

Leader: All right everyone, here’s the deal: you all had a hard day’s work out in the fields and will be going to your wee but cozy shacks for a well-earned good night’s sleep, but one of you – is actually – a – “murderer”!

(Gasps all around)

Villager 1: Impossible!

Villager 2: Not one of us, we all know each other!

Villager 3: (Raises a hand; to Leader) Is it you?

Leader: No it isn’t me, I’m the one running the ga – never mind: whoever it is knows who it is, OK?!

Villager 3: No, but since I’m clearly outvoted here….

Leader: Good-good; now, tonight: one of you – will – be – “murdered”!

(Gasps all around again)

Villager 4: What if we “murder” the “murderer” first?

Leader: It doesn’t work like that – it happens while you’re asleep.

Villager 4: What if we don’t sleep, then?

Leader: You have to sleep, it’s in the rules – I mean, you had a hard day’s work out in the fields so you’re all sleeping through the night, OK?!

Villager 4: Except for one of us who’ll be horribly “murdering” another one of us, that is.

Leader: Yes, well, that goes without saying.  However, there is a chance… to be saved.

Villager 5: Oh thank goodness; I thought all hope was lost.

Leader: For one of you – is – a – “healer”.

Villager 1: Impossible!

Leader: I’m sorry, what?

Villager 1: How can any of us be a “healer” in this village if we’re working out in the fields all day long?  There’d be no free time to learn herbology or surgery!

Leader: …Well, this is a very talented person, what can I tell you; now, the “healer” can choose to save a fellow villager or may choose to save themselves, either way possibly saving the selected “victim”.

Villager 1: OK, so what’s the method of “murder”, then?

Leader: DEATH!  Mwahahaha!

Villager 2: You’re having way too much fun with this.

Leader: Sorry.

Villager 1: So, is it poison or stabbing?

Leader: What difference does it make?!

Villager 1: A world of difference: if I’m the “victim” and also the “healer”, then if it’s poison I can just take an antidote, but if it’s stabbing or some other traumatic wound then how am I supposed to perform lifesaving surgery on myself?

Leader: It’s magic, OK?!  It’s all magic!

Villager 1: Then maybe say the person’s a “witch” or a “sorcerer” rather than a “healer” –

Leader: It doesn’t matter, the person’s just a “healer” who instantly “heals”, all right?!

Villager 3: (Raises a hand; to Leader) If we “heal” ourselves but we were never the “victim”, does that create a paradox and we implode instead?

Leader: No!  Nothing happens, you just wake up in the morning as usual!  Why is everyone making this more complicated than it is?!

Villager 3: Just checking, yeesh.

Leader: The rules – I mean, the situation is exactly as I told you, stop overthinking everything, now go to sleep so one of you can be “offed” in the night, understand?!

Villager 4: Who can sleep at this point?!

Villager 5: And what kind of village did we all choose to live in?!

Leader: For the love of – EVERYONE GO TO SLEEP, NOW!

(Villagers 1-5 go to each of their huts, grumbling)

Villager 5: (Turns to Leader while standing in the doorway) Well, you’re certainly not getting a portion of this year’s harvest after all this.  (Slams the door on the way in)

Leader: …What?

(Later that night)

Leader: IT – IS – TIME!

Villagers 1-5: (In their huts) Ooooh!

Leader: Now, this next part as quietly as possible.  “Murderer”: WAKE UP!

Villager 5: (Whispering) But we’re all already awake!

Villager 4: Ssh!

(Villager 2 emerges quietly from the hut, wearing a wicked smile)

Leader: OK, “Murderer”: CHOOSE YOUR VICTIM!  (Villager 2 starts creepily tiptoeing toward Villager 1’s hut) No-no, just point – it’s all magic, remember.  (Villager 2 creepily points to Villager 1’s hut) OK, “Murderer”: NOW, GO BACK TO SLEEP!  (Villager 2 collapses onto the ground) What the – go back to your hut and then go back to sleep!  (Villager 2 stands up and returns to the hut) Now, “Healer”: WAKE UP!  (Villager 1 emerges quietly from the hut) OK, “Healer”: CHOOSE WHO IS TO BE SAVED!  (Villager 1 points a wand at self and mouths “Alakazam!”) …Fine.  OK, “Healer”: NOW, GOT BACK TO SLEEP!  (Villager 1 dashes back into the hut) Wish I could sleep right now.

(The next morning)

Leader: OK, everyone: it was a long, hard night’s sleep, but now you’re all awake and gathered.  (Silence) I said, you’re all awake and gathered!  (Villagers 1-5 run out of their huts and gather in the mini-square)  And even though you all should have been out like an electric light that hasn’t been invented yet, in the literal dead of night, one of you tried to “off” your neighbor!

Villager 5: Oh no!  In our little village?!  Nowhere is safe!

Leader: BUT: the “healer” was able to save the “victim”, so everyone here is still alive… FOR NOW!  Mwahahaha – !

Villager 2: Seriously, take it down a notch.

Leader: Sorry.  So: let the accusations begin!  Who do each of you think is… THE “MURDERER”?!

(Villager 1 points to Villager 2, Villagers 2, 4, and 5 point to Villager 3, and Villager 3 points to Leader)

Leader: (To Villager 3) I already told you that it can’t be me!

Villager 3: Ah, that’s what you want us to think!

Leader: I’m not eligible to be the “murderer” since I oversee who’s doing what, so you have to pick someone else!

Villager 3: Oh, all right.  (Suddenly notices Villagers 2, 4, and 5’s pointing fingers) Hey, wait a minute, you all think it’s me?!  What for?!

Villager 2: I’m not buying the Village Idiot routine for a second.

Villager 3: But I am the Village Idiot for real!

Villager 4: A likely story!  Your disguise is ingenious!

Villager 5: Yeah, that’s what you want us to think, ha!

Villager 3: (Sputters) I – you – this – I have no words.

Leader: (To Villager 3) So, who do you accuse now?

Villager 3: Myself, apparently: the gaslighting campaign has succeeded.

Leader: Well, it’s a majority then, but not unanimous.  (To Villager 1) So, why are you pointing elsewhere?

Villager 2: (Suddenly notices Villager 1’s pointing finger and gasps in horror) How could you even suspect it was me?!  I AM YOUR SPOUSE!

Villager 1: Exactly.

Leader: (To Villager 1) Sure you don’t want to change your mind in light of public opinion?

Villager 1: (Still staring accusingly at Villager 2) Oh no, my mind’s staying right here.

Villager 2: (To Villager 1) I’ll remember this at dinner tonight.

Leader: All right, then!  The majority in this case is… not correct, and the “murderer” is still at large to strike once more!

Villager 5: (As Villagers 1, 2, 4, and 5 lower their pointing fingers) Ooh, I can’t take the suspense!

Villager 1: (Glaring at Villager 2) I can.

Villager 2: (Glaring back) Why you little –

Villager 3: (Oblivious to the other two) I can’t take the pubic shaming.

Leader: All right!  After a hard day’s work out in the fields –

Villager 4: Who can work at a time like this?!  Isn’t there an attempted “murder” we should be investigating?!

Villager 5: Yeah, I for one don’t want to be the next contestant on a re-enactment of And Then There Were None!

Leader: (Stares blankly at Villager 4 and Villager 5 for a few moments) …After another hard day’s work out in the fields, you all return to your wee but cozy shacks for a well-earned good night’s sleep.

Villager 5: (As Villagers 1-5 return to their huts) HA!

Villager 4: I’m barring the door and staying up all night with my scythe at the ready!

Villager 1: (While looking pointedly at Villager 2) Good idea.

Villager 2: [Grinds teeth at Villager 1]

Leader: OK, NIGHTY-NIGHT!

(Later that night)

Leader: IT – IS – TIME!  Now, this next part as quietly as possible.  “Murderer”: WAKE UP!  (Villager 2 and Villager 3 both emerge from their huts) Unbelievable.

Villager 2: (Staring at Villager 3) Huh?

Villager 3: What, didn’t you all vote for me to be It?

Leader: THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS!

Villager 3: Yeesh, why is everyone always mad at me lately?  I didn’t even attempt a “murder” on anyone yet.

(Villagers 1, 4, and 5 emerge from their huts)

Villager 4: Did you get `em?!  Are we saved?!

Leader: (Sinks down to the ground, cradling head in hands and moaning) That’s not how this works….

Villager 2: (Pointing to Villager 3) This one got confused and ruined the whole thing!

Villager 4: (Gasps in horror; to Villager 2) So it was you, all along?!

Villager 1: I KNEW IT!

Villager 2: (To Villager 1) Calm down; you would’ve done the exact same thing in my position.

Villager 1: I would never!

Villager 2: Oh really?  Then how is it you chose to “heal” yourself rather than your own beloved life companion, hm?

Villager 1: Because I figured you were the “murderer” and that you’d targeted me!  And how’d you know I “healed” myself?!

Villager 2: Because you were still alive the next morning!

Villager 1: …Oh yeah, right.

Villager 2: Besides, it would’ve been an easy process of elimination anyway.  (Points to Villager 3) This one has no idea what’s going on – (Points to Villagers 4 and 5) and those two are too immersed in the experience to convincingly cover up a secret role if they had one.

Villager 4: Rude.

Villager 5: Yeah, “Murderer”!

Villager 2: I didn’t even “off” anyone!

Villager 5: Not for lack of trying!

Villager 1: I’ll say.

Villager 3: (Raises a hand) Are we going back to sleep for another round, then?

Leader: (Suddenly stands) No!  No, the game is over, you all ruined it!  The cards I gave you earlier clearly showed what your roles were, the rules were very simple, and my narration was clear and concise – it takes a special talent to spectacularly derail such a basic scenario, but you all managed to somehow, congratulations!

Villager 1 and Villager 2: AHEM!

Leader: Sorry: you were the perfect secret “Murderer” and “Healer”, Mom and Dad.

Villager 2: I should think so.

Villager 1: Same here, even though I really should keep my eye on you two from now on.

Story 488: Dramatic Irony in Action

[Scene: A private detective’s office, 1930s New York City.  The lone detective sits at his desk, staring at the cityscape out the window and sucking on a candy cigarette]

Detective: (Voiceover) <Nighttime in The Big City.  How I loathe this cesspool of crime, this limbo of lost souls, this… (Rubs an arm across the pane of the partially open window) factory of filthy windows.  The only thing that keeps me here in perpetual perdition is my innate, unerring, unceasing sense of justice.  How I loathe that, too.>

(A silhouette rushes up to the office door’s mostly opaque pane of glass; Detective turns around sharply as the figure in the hallway rapidly bangs on the door)

Detective: (Voiceover) <A knock on the door, after hours.  Can only mean one thing: Trouble, with a capital “T”.  And a capital “R”, “O”, “U” – >

Reader: Hello?!

Detective: (Voiceover) <Come in, Danger.>

Reader: I know you’re in there; can I come in, please?!

Detective: (Voiceover) <Guess I forgot to say that first bit out loud.> (Takes out the candy cigarette to yell) Come in!  (Voiceover) <Danger.>

Reader: (Rattles the doorknob) The door’s locked!

Detective: (Voiceover) <Right: I’d locked that to keep out Danger.>  (Walks wearily to the door, unlocks it, and lets in Reader who collapses onto a chair, out of breath) So, what brings you to my humble rat hole, Factory Worker?

Reader: Huh? (Looks down at outfit of sweater and jeans) Oh yeah, guess I don’t look like your typical Dame in Distress.  Or is it Broad?

Detective: (Locks the door again and resumes sucking on the candy cigarette) Whatever pleases you.  I don’t judge who comes through my door, long as they’ve got a cause to tug at the heartstrings and the dough to back it up.

Reader: (Stands) Right, so: not here about that –

Detective: Then you have five seconds to convince me not to throw you out this window.

Reader: We’re on the ground floor, so I’m not too concerned.

Detective: Corrupt landlord of a corrupt system: I specifically requested digs with a view of the tops of the more modest skyscrapers for me to brood upon life’s miseries, and instead I get horn-blaring taxicabs and littering pedestrians.  It’s a wonder I close cases at all in this milieu.

Reader: Can’t help that, but I’m actually here to do you a favor.

Detective: (Voiceover) < Favors don’t come cheap, and this scrappy ne’er-do-well looks to be driving a hard bargain; only question is, how much of my soul am I willing to sell – >

Reader: Since you’re now staring off into space I assume you’re in the middle of a rambling internal monologue that ultimately leads nowhere.

Detective: …You assume rightly.

Reader: Well knock it off: I came here to warn you that you’re in incredible danger!

Detective: Just a moment, please.  (Places the candy cigarette in an ashtray and turns up blaring saxophone music) Need to set the mood – you were saying?  (Perches casually on the edge of the desk)

Reader: (Shouting over the music) I was saying that your life is in danger!

Detective: Life is danger –

Reader: What?!

Detective: Fine.  (Turns off the music) I said, life is danger: it’s the deal we sign up for when we’re thrust literally screaming into this harsh, brutal world.  Unwillingly, I might add.

Reader: Yeah, well, this is a little more specific danger right now: you remember the gangster-you’ve-been-trying-to-outwit-forever’s second-in-command’s cousin’s drinking buddy who you tossed into a dumpster during the alley fight four chapters – I mean, two days ago?

Detective: (Thinks for a few moments) Oh, that little pipsqueak?  Had a fresh mouth, matched only by a pretty sharp toothpick?  Sure I remember tossing his keister out of my way in that brawl for the truth; why?

Reader: Let’s just say I have it on good authority that the pipsqueak’s got it in for you, so you’d better, you know, watch your 6:00.

Detective: (Checks watch) No, it’s 11:45.

Reader: Pipsqueak’s literally gunning for you, dude!  Any minute now, he’s gonna burst in here and give you the what for!

Detective: Not quite following your lingo, but sounds like Pipsqueak’s got my number and wants to cash in my chips for me the hard way.

Reader: Yes!  That!  (Collapses back onto the chair)

Detective: And how, exactly, did you come by this useful information?  Maybe Pipsqueak sent you here as a double-bluff, I wonder!

Reader: No, nothing here’s ever that convoluted: let’s just say I… know things.

Detective: Do you indeed.

Reader: Yes, and I know that Pipsqueak’s planning to come here tonight, at exactly midnight, and literally remove you from the scene in revenge for the humiliating dumpster dive!

Detective: Is that so?  You seem to know an awful lot about it for someone claiming not to be in league with that nobody.

Reader: I know enough that you should get out of here in… (Leans over to peer at Detective’s watch) less than five minutes.  If you value your life.

Detective: I do, but that’s beside the point right now.  (Reaches into a desk drawer and takes out a peashooter to train on Reader) Right now, I feel like I’m being served a load of flimflam that I want to return to the chef, and maybe I really should consider you the threat, instead of little Mr. Featherweight.

Reader: (Stands slowly with hands slightly raised) Listen, I’m trying to prevent a tragedy here – you had no idea this guy was coming for you until I showed up, and now you do, so you need to get your caboose in gear and split!

Detective: (Also stands) Well, I think that this is all a bunch of hooey you made up just so you could get to my mother’s pearls!

Reader: What?

Detective: What?

Reader: I don’t care about those, I’m trying to save your life!

Detective: Aha!  So you admit you know about them!

Reader: No – well I do, but –

Detective AH!  HA!

Reader: Listen, I know everything about your weird little life, OK!  I know about your childhood in the surprisingly comfortable orphanage; I know about your one summer as a carnie barker; I know about your tragic coming-of-age in the trenches of World War I –

Detective: (Gasps) ONE?!  There’s gonna be more?!

Reader: – I know about your heartbreak when the one true love of your life ran off with the one true best friend of your life; I know about your only really solving one case with the others being lost to moral ambiguity; I know about it all.

Detective: (Chews on lip while pondering this) Are you an actual witch?  Because it’s all right now: you’d only get prison time instead of the stake.

Reader: No!  I can only say… your life is an open book to me.

Detective: Ha!  I’m read by no one!

Reader: Wanna bet?

(The door bursts open with Pipsqueak’s arrival, another peashooter at the ready)

Pipsqueak: Gotcha!  You – oh sorry, didn’t realize you had a guest.

Reader: Ah, fiddlesticks.

Detective: Pipsqueak?!

Pipsqueak: What in the – ?  No, my name is Charles, and I’m calling you out!

Detective: Fine, go ahead!

Pipsqueak: I just – I just did.

Reader: Get outta here, man, you’re ruining everything!

Pipsqueak: Absolutely not!  Not after what this busybody-with-airs did to me!  I’ll never get that dumpster smell out of my hair and skin, never!

Reader: Yeah, you’re right: it’s pretty bad.

Detective: You had it coming!  But you’ll never catch me alive, do you hear me?!  No one will ever catch me alive, ahahahahaha!  (Turns around and jumps out the window)

Pipsqueak: (Falls to his knees and tilts head back to face the ceiling) NOOOOOOOOOOOO – !

Reader: Easy there, buddy – he just hailed a cab and drove off.

Pipsqueak: (Tilts head back forward) Oh right; forgot I didn’t climb any stairs to get here.  This place really is a dump, isn’t it?

Reader: You’re telling me.

Pipsqueak: (Stands and brushes off pants) Well, guess there’s no point in continuing my revenge spree if he’s just gonna keep jumping out windows every time I show up; I’m going back to the poker game I was losing to go do this.  (Leaves)

Reader: Yes!  Success!  (Looks around the empty office) Wait a minute: there’s still 150 pages left in this thing.

Story 251: Repair Work Creates More Problems

            (Tenant, wearing pajamas and a robe, opens the front door to Contractor)

            Contractor: Hi there, the Landlord sent me over – you got a leak from the upstairs apartment that’s destroyed your bathroom ceiling?

           Tenant: (Sniffles) Yeah, thanks, come on in.  (Coughs very productively as they head over there) Sorry, I came home from work with the flu, and when I came in here to drown my head in the sink, I saw this.  (Flips on the bathroom light and points to the ceiling, which is sagging almost completely off the beams and has transformed to an unnatural shade of black)

            Contractor: Whoa.

            Tenant: (Sneezes) Yeah.  You think it’s mold?

            Contractor: I think it’s everything, but I can’t tell how much or how far it’s spread until I’ve done exploratory surgery on it.  Did they stop the leak upstairs?

            Tenant: Think so – they said they fixed it and I don’t hear water running 24/7 anymore, so that part should be all right.  You need anything from me right now to check it out?

            Contractor: Nope.  (Whips out a ladder and a tool chest) All set for the demolition; best not to come in here for the next half hour at least.

            Tenant: Good; I’m gonna go pass out in my room for a bit.

            Contractor: Sure thing, but it’ll get real noisy in here in a minute.

            Tenant: I’ll be dead to the world in 30 seconds.

            (Fifteen minutes later)

            Contractor: (Knocking on the bedroom door) Yoo-hoo!  Still alive in there?

            Tenant: (Slowly opens the door, looking even worse than before) Yup?

            Contractor: Hi there, can I show you something?

            Tenant: If it’s the bill, send it upstairs; I’m not paying a dime.

            Contractor: Ahahahahahaha – no, it’s something… unusual.

            Tenant: Don’t tell me there’s a family of cats or rats or bats up there?

            Contractor: Not exactly.

            (They climb the ladder and stick their heads through the gaping hole in the ceiling; Contractor shines a flashlight onto a spot in the corner)

            Tenant: (Squints) Those look like the Crown Jewels.

            Contractor: Yeppers.

          Tenant: Am I hallucinating?  I think that’s one of the side effects listed on the meds I was given.

            Contractor: Well I’m not taking them and I, too, see expensive-looking items there.  You don’t happen to remember stashing any loot up here, do you?

            Tenant: If I had stuff like that, I wouldn’t be living here.

           (The Upstairs Tenant is called to see the loot.  After descending the ladder, all three stare at the now-exposed ceiling)

           Upstairs Tenant: I think it’s obvious: since they were left under my floor, that clearly means they belong to me.

           Tenant: (Chokes for a few moments) Nah-uh!  They’re in my ceiling, so that clearly means they belong to me!  Not to mention your leak destroyed my ceiling in the first place, ergo they’re mine twice over!

            Upstairs Tenant: Actually, since it was my leak as you remind me every day, you would never have found these things if it wasn’t for me, ergo they’re mine twice over!  Plus I need some compensation for the inflated bill I’ll no doubt be sent.

          Tenant: What about the mold I’m breathing in that probably gave me the flu and is possibly now killing me as we speak?!

            Contractor: Oh, the mold’s contained; shouldn’t be an issue once I dump all this garbage.

            Tenant: But it could have been an issue!

           Upstairs Tenant: Any mold after you moved in here is yours, just as any valuables stashed in the space below my floor and above your ceiling are mine.

            Contractor: Guys, guys, let’s be reasonable.  Since I’m the one who the opened the ceiling and found these things in the first place, clearly they belong to me.

            Upstairs Tenant: In a pig’s eye!  They’re in my floor!

            Tenant: No they’re not, they’re in my ceiling!

            Contractor: Yeah, I think I’ll just take them; finders keepers and all that.  (Starts to ascend the ladder)

            Tenants: No!  (There is a scrum at the ladder as all three try to climb it simultaneously)

           Tenant: (Sneezing) There!  May you both get infected and only have last’s year vaccine, you thieves!

           (The front door slams open; the three freeze as an imposing figure enters the apartment and stops at the bathroom doorway)

            Landlord: Well, well, well.  Seems like I’ve got a tenant dispute on my hands.

            Upstairs Tenant: Back off, M’Lord, this is none of your concern!

          Landlord: Actually, since neither you own a square inch of this property and, heh, I do, anything found above, below, around, under, and in-between is mine.  (Effortlessly passes through the group, climbs the ladder, removes the jewels, and climbs back down) On an unrelated note, rent’s going up 25% next month.  (Hums tunelessly out the door)

            Tenant: (To Upstairs Tenant) You’re still paying for all this.  (Hacks up a lung)

            Upstairs Tenant: As long as you pay for the hospital bills I’m seeing in my future.

         Contractor: (Looking at phone) While you two sort it all out, I’ve had five other jobs that popped up and since we’re neither profiting off of found treasure or solving the mystery of how they even got up there, I’m off to make some real money.  (Leaves)

         Tenant: Hey!  There’s still a hole in my ceiling!  I don’t want to hear this one (Points to Upstairs Tenant) every time they’re in there!

           Upstairs Tenant: How did that stuff get up there, anyway?

           Tenant: I’m thinking the less we know, the better.  What if whoever put them there comes back looking for them?

           

           [Reader Participation: Leave a comment below or post to @JenPergola on Twitter suggesting an idea on how the jewels got there – I will pick one and write a story around it!]