It seems fun-and-games time is over. The late Ambrose Blinn’s guests reconvene in the mansion.
“Ambrose Blinn was choked to death,” Steele pronounces.
Feldman is offended. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought it was a pertinent question.”
“Garbage,” Steele reiterates.
“Okay, okay, doctor. You’ve made your point.”
Steele clarifies: “Ambrose Blinn was literally choked to death with garbage. You know: pork rinds, lettuce stems, potato peels.”
Ha! I knew vegetables were bad for you!
Madeline has her doubts. She also has her booze. “Are you sure?”
“I saw it with my own eyes,” Steele assures her. “The man’s mouth was a veritible salad of death. Believe me, it wasn’t a very appetizing sight.”
Watch for the exciting Kickstarter campaign for next year’s most terrifying thriller, “Fruit Salad of Death!”
“Then he couldn’t have greeted us last night from his bedroom, could he?” Feldman points out.
Laura goes to the surprisingly futuristic big-screen TV and turns Mr. Flinn on.
Oh, stop. You know what I meant.
“It was on tape,” she explains.
“All anyone had to do was press the ‘Play’ button, and Ambrose magically appeared on the screen …”
“…allowing everyone to think he was upstairs.”
“We were all in the dining room when he started talking,” Randi astutely (!) notes.
“All except …” Feldman gives Madeline a meaningful glance.
“I was playing the piano,” Madeline protests, using an uncommon euphemism for “drinking like a fish.” She says she was as surprised as anybody when Flinn popped up.
But Laura has another explanation.
“There’s a timer on this machine. Any one of us could have set it and been safely in the dining room surrounded by witnesses.”
Pretty smart for an inamorata!
Madeline, who is not an inamorata, is confused. “Which means?”
Laura thinks it’s time to call the authorities. Good idea! Except …
“No phones,” (no longer)Silent Partner pipes up. “They won’t be hooked up until the official opening next week.”
Wait. I was under the impression this den of iniquity was a going concern.
Well, crap. I think we all know what that means.
He says he checked.
“Toward that end, I suggest never being alone with one other person. Always make sure there’s a third party present.”
Everybody gives each other suspicious, sidelong glances.
“That way, the killer won’t be able to strike again,” Steele concludes.
“And then there were none?” Laura inquires.
“You must admit, a knowledge of cinema occassionally comes in handy,” he says.
Feeling a little smug, Mr. Steele?
Feldman declares that smart advice … “Except for one thing: What if there’s more than one killer?”
Yeah. What if there’s more than one killer?
Keep calm and trust Mr. Steele.
NOTE: I’m going on vacation October 17-24 (woot! woot!), so won’t be posting again until next Sunday or so. In the meantime …
Talk amongst yourselves!