This is my account, and I'll make a sworn statement to same, I will.   Upon hearing the crash of cutlery and the screams of the poor maid, Ruth, I believe her name is, I dashed from the Salon to the billiard room to find my wife's brother, the brash, young Jonathan, lying face down along side the billiard table. As the aptly named Overpaunch was attending Ruth, I immediately turned my attention to the young Arbourfoyle.   "Somebody call me a doctor!" I cried.   The man was lying face down on the deep pile of an exotic Persion rug next to one of the legs of the table. I knelt beside him and checked his pulse. He had none. Running my fingers over his scalp, I discovered an indentation where his skull had been crushed by a blunt object. I was unable to ascertain which object might have done this, but from the size of the fracture, it could have been a ball from the table, the brass snake's head of Overpaunch's walking cane, or even one of the several teacups which now lay in shards across the billiard table and rug. Dare I say, even the butt of Mouldy's pistol could have produced such a mortal wound.   Fearing there might be bleeding I had not found, I straightaway called for someone to bring me a towel whereby I might protect the exquisite nature of the rug from irrepairable damage. I then, for the second time this week, pronounced a man dead in this house of lavish wealth and, apparently, unspeakable secrets.   I then arose and left the assembled guests to gawk and wring their hands whilst I took Anna, the maid and my general assistant in tending the health and well-being of the late Garfunkle Arbourfoyle these past several months, and asked her to bring some bed linen with which to cover the unfortunate Master Jonathan so as to ease the distress of the women and faint-hearted among us.   Upon returning to the scene of the crime, I noted silently that the white cue ball seemed to be missing from among the balls knocked assunder by the silver serving tray and various china and foods which flew hither and yon when the young woman, Ruth, momentarily took leave of her senses at her discovery of the body.   These are the facts as I know them, and nothing else do I know.   ************************************************************************** From: StoicalTammy Sent: 10/27/2003 5:43 PM (Sob) I can't believe my brother is dead! Oh, woe... Who could have done this? (sniff) I just can't bear to think about it. I cant believe some underhanded sneaky scoundrel would do something so vile as to take him from me.. And when Uncle Garfunkle just recently passed away, too. And people keep turning their accusing stares on me.. AS IF I HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH IT! Everybody knows how much I dearly loved my only brother. I am going to tell you just what I saw, and where I was, and you will plainly be able to see I had nothing at all to do with this atrocious act! To be honest, I am not one to go into personal business, and I am not a very outspoken person, but what I saw that night had me so fired up I wasn't even thinking straight! I was sitting and chatting with some of the family, when I happened to glance over and catch sight of my husband talking to Anna. Bad enough she is constantly assisting him with Uncle Garfunkle, but to be mooning over him in public, well, I just couldn't have that! And if that weren't bad enough, when she was walking away from him after their (very intense, may I add) conversation, he was looking at her behind! I love my husband dearly, but I have to admit, his roving eyes have given me pause a time or two. So I was so mad, and intent on giving him a well-deserved chewing out, I marched right over to him and let him have it! Of course everyone in the salon could hear us but I didn't care! The next thing I knew, there was a bang and a clatter, and somebody screamed! Goodness gracious, that scream went straight down my spine. Allister immediately ran into the billiard room, and I was hot on his heels. He went over to the billiard table, but I couldn't see what was going on due to all the people in the way, and when I finally did get a good look, well, I passed out! There he was, by poor brother on the floor, and such a mess as I have never seen around him. The next thing I recall, I was being brought 'round by some smelling salts, and a sheet was covering up Jonathan... Oh woe... My heart is just breaking. If the police don't find the evil culprit soon, I fear I might go mad! So that is my tale, and I would swear it on a stack of a thousand bibles, should anyone ask me to! ~Jennifer Arbunkle-Smythe ******************************************************************** From: carriet34 Sent: 10/27/2003 7:35 PM Oh what a tragedy has again occurred in this house. (dabbing eyes with a very expensive silk hankie) And Dr, Smythe is right. I did,indeed, take leave of my senses, what, with nearly stumbling over Sir Jonathan's body in the billiard room. I was on my way to the ballroom from the kitchen with a tray full of Miss Alice's lovely desserts - all gone to waste now. I did hear a thud before entering the billiard room but never gave any mind to it - knowing the house was fairly full of guests. Any number of things could have caused such a sound. I suppose I did what any normal person would do upon discovering a body lying face down on the floor -- I screamed and in my nervousness tossed aside the tray full of goodies. I'm not quite sure what Dr. Smythe was trying to imply, mentioning that Sir Jonathan's final breath could have been extinguished with one of the cups on my tray. Sir Jonathan, although ever the flirt (blushing) was a decent man. Old Paunchy(that's what the family called their barrister), just up and ran after seeing that I wasn't going to end up on the floor alongside Sir Jonathan. Strange man, he. I'm still shaking like a leaf in a chilly autumn breeze at the thought of a murderer running around this house. I'm sure finding the killer will not be an easy task, but I feel that the investigators will scare up the scoundrel soon enough. ****************************************************************************** From: StoicalTammy Sent: 10/28/2003 12:06 AM Alright, I admit I did take a little nip now and then, but you can bet your sweet arses that it was Jonathan with the problems. If he went to see uncle Garfunkle about needing money, it was for his own nefarious schemes, and not for my baubles. And GAMBLING? ME? That accusation is so ridiculous I don't even have the words to refute it! I will be the first to admit my flaws, but it was my dear brother with the monetary deficiency. AND, as I have already stated, I was fighting with my rakeshell husband over Anna's behind, so could not possibly have killed Jonathan. Furthermore, I believe that certain people are just trying to cast eyes off of them and onto me, so as not to incur any suspicion about themselves! After all, dear sweet cousin, where exactly were you when Jonathan was killed? Allister, for all his wandering ways, bless his soul, was by my side. Anna, too, trollop that she is, (but in a most loveable way, of course) was never out of site. Never in your missive, cousin,do you say you didn't do it.. And you say you were with Anna, which I know as an untruth. Its almost as if you are hiding something important.. unless of course, you are having another of your so-called "secret" trysts? Who might it be this time, dear? The butler? Or maybe you have finally decided to lower yourself another notch and sleep with the kitchen help? Be that as it may, I don't really believe you the murderess.. Mayhap it was one of the hundreds of women that cad of a brother of mine was toying with. Then again, it could be one of our greedy relatives trying to lay their hands on what will be of our rightful inheritance. (and I do mean all of ours, dear cousin. Uncle, as you know, did favor me more than most) Anyway, back to my point. I cant be dishonest and say he didn't need to die. There, I have admitted it. Yes, Jonathan was a cad and as bad as a common criminal, and deserved to die. But I would never, by all that is holy, harm my flesh and blood. Especially my brother. And I have witnesses to attest to that fact. Do you? Jennifer ******************************************************************** From: KellySprout Sent: 10/28/2003 12:51 AM Jennifer, my dearest, I fear I must urge you to be careful what you say. Do not be brash in your remonstratives for surely there are those (and we both know who I mean) who would happily use your words to divert attention from themselves. As for my eyes, you know, my beloved, that I have eyes only for you. Can I be faulted if other specimens of feminine grace should cross my field of vision whilst I gaze on your beauty? And can I be faulted that one of them has displayed an affinity for the healing arts with your dear late uncle these past trying months, and therefore near my side more than others?   As for your brother, wayward though he was, do you not find it strange that it was he, the only male heir in the Arbourfoyle lineage and therefore most likely to inherit the estate of your dear uncle, that became victim of such nefarious dealings this bitter night? Think! Does it not strike you peculiar that your uncle, though 98 years of age and beset with gout, should pass so suddenly, when I, his own physician, did not suspect so much as a heart murmur? Who, besides myself and the caring maid, Anna, had access to your uncle throughout the day? Have not both you and his own daughter, Nina, stated that it was your very brother who had such access? I would urge us all to ponder this:   If your uncle's passing was less than natural and perchance more suspicious than at first I suspected, and if your brother had either complication or knowledge of same therewith, who, perchance, might wish to ensure his silence on the matter? These are the issues we should turn the minds of Agents Mouldy and Scullery to contemplate, not the petty baubles you love so much or the scrappings between you and your late, but dear and only brother! ********************************************************** From: GHiggins4 Sent: 10/28/2003 1:22 AM Challenge #11 Murder at Impression Mansion Files Investigation  Mouldy and Scullery: Investigating Agents Scullery and I arrived at Impression Mansion at or around 23:00 hours p.m. so that would make it like, around, you know, uh,just before midnight,or thereabouts. After viewing the corpse briefly I inquired about it. "Well, Mouldy, an autopsy needs to be done to be certain, but it appears that the young Jonathan Arbourfoyle died from blunt trauma to his left fore cranial ridge." "What was the weapon? " "According to Dr. Smythe, who I interviewed briefly while you were relieving yourself, he concurs with my preliminary analysis of the victim and has noted that the cue ball is missing from the billiard table." Scullery smirked triumphantly, "I have bagged the poolcue." "But we should find the cue BALL, don�t you think?" MOULDY NOTES: On interviewing members ofthe family we were given a hastily scribbled note signed by the lawyer for the family, one R.Overbelly... Porterbelly-uh Beer Belly? No I got it! Overpaunch. I pulled out my palm pilot and linked it to my cell phone and went online to Dictionary.com and deciphered his dastardly code. It basically said that he was takin� it on the lam and had the last will and testament of some old geezer with him. An All Points Bulletin A.P.B. has been issued for Reginald Overpaunch LLB: Requesting he submit himself for questioning at some time when it is really very convenient for him to consider having a nice little chitty chat with us Law Enforcement types. The doctor seemed nervous, almost as though he were hiding something. I had meanwhile deposed Nina Arbourfoyle, the daughter of the old guy who wrote the missing will, and his ex-wife. She sure makes it sound like she is everyone�s favorite aunt! But she left me feeling like I had just drank a cup of tea that had been steeped for six hours with four teabags in the one cup. I mean that lady talks sincere but man do my teeth squeek now! There is a possibility here that she is trying to divert attention from something. Scullery�s Addendum to MOULDY NOTES: I also had the opportunity to question the victim�s twin sister Jennifer, who by the way is also the Doctor�s Wife. She was out raged to say the least. I include here for you what I told her. Your story and "alibi" make you sound so sincere and loving, and above all "innocent" towards your brother "Jonathan's death." I still have doubts though when I look over your report of Miss Nina�s account. She casts many aspersions on this �happy� family. The downstairs maid seems to have leaked the story to a reporter but the t.v. studio spokesman I talked to said that they cant use the footage because her uniform was too revealing for the six o�clock news. (She found the body, Mouldy, first on the scene. Or did she create the scene. We will need to question her deeply I think.) I read over Scullery�s addendums to my notes and immediately text messaged her with, "I�ll handle the maid, you get on the butler!" ******************************************************** From: Sassy_Catt Sent: 10/28/2003 7:54 AM    Detectives.... I had nothing to do with my cousin Jonathan's death and if need be, I can PROVE IT! I'll just bet the rest of this dear sweet lying family, has been filling you in on all the skeletons in each other's closests. They seem to think all their secrets have remained hidden. Little do they know that dear old Dad, trusting soul that he was, had each and everyone of us watched and all our various foibles recorded. I know, 'cause I read the secret reports from his investigators. Ha, the things I could tell you about each, why it would curl the very toes on each of their rather large ponderous feet, if they knew . It's no wonder they've tripped up. I'll just bet my dear sweet cousin Jen has been crying the blues over her late lamented brother's death and wringing her hankie in feigned grief. Truth is, her brother was so very very tired of her spendthrift ways and had threatened to not only cut off her funds, but to expose her affair with the gardener Viktor to her oh so loving husband. She always did have a thing for the man, she thought no one was watching as she'd slip away to the greenhouse and carry on beneath the noses of the family. Dare I tell her, the dirt should have been beneath her fingernails, not smudged on the backside of her skirt if she was truly planting flowers. Yeah, I know what was really being planted! And as for her dear sweet husband, the man's a letch and a charlatan. I'm not at all surprised at his watching the backside of his so called assistant Anna, he's done much more then watch as Jonathon found out. It's no wonder dear old Dad was in failing health, having THAT as his doctor. Why the man doesn't know the first thing about fixing a hangnail, let alone administering medical assistance. I wonder if Johnathon had word back yet on Smythe's so-called medical degree? And as for sister dearest. All she does is spend spend spend!!! She thinks nothing of jetting off to Paris to attend the various premieres of new lines of fashion and footwear. I think she's personally responsible through her spending for the influx of capital Gucci needed to continue their line. The woman is a walking case of "shop till you drop" and snobbery if I ever saw one. Imagine thinking you need to have hundreds of pairs of shoes. Maybe it has something to do with her rather large feet, an apparent family characteristic shared by most. As for her thinking she's dear old Dad's confidante, the woman lives in la la land. Everyone knows Daddy, had no use for any of us girls, the old goat! As he so fondly would say, "Men are the only ones capable of being hard nosed enough to run my business, it's passed down, father to son through the generations and I'd rather sell the company outright then have a woman at the helm". Dear old Dad seemed to think all women are helpless creatures, capable only shopping and looking decorative. Geeee I wonder if dear sweet sis, her mother Larisa and Aunt Lidia are the ones that furthered that notion, what with their snooty demeanors and shop till you run out of money attitudes? Not that sis was all that helpless. Not that the money ran out, at least not yet! Detectives... maybe someone should check all their credit card expenses and see exactly how they spent Daddy's money, on what and how much. I'm sure there is much more then meets the eye there. More then a few eyebrows will be raised when it comes to light, exactly what my dearest sister was buying. So much for her secret trysts, and her secret "other" life. I chuckled when I saw handcuffs, collars and restraints from "Secret Lives" on one purchase receipt. And as for the timid and flighty air of that maid, hmmmph, she's covering something I warrant. She's never cared for Jonathon, since he brought Dad's attention to the May-December romance he witnessed between her and Old Paunchy. I've seen her as bold as you please batting her lashes at that crusty ascerbic barrister. And just where do you think she got that expensive silk hankie? I'm sure she knows quite well, just why he ran off during all this commotion. As for me.... well..... I was in the library, on long distance, taking care of some very important business, which I'd rather not discuss at this point. Daria Arbourfoyle *********************************************************** From: irishheather Sent: 10/28/2003 10:38 AM (Lidia stood over Jonathon�s warm dead body.  She watched and waited for the doctor to tell everyone that her son was in fact dead.) "Oh my poor Jonathon", she cried out loud.  Jennifer held her mother up so as to not faint.  Jennifer�s husband, Doctor Allister Smythe, stood up and confirmed that Jonathon had been murdered.  Cries and gasps came from the crowd.  Lidia stood in shock.  Who would have done this to her little boy, she thought.  After a few moments of sobbing on Jennifer�s shoulder, Lidia regained composer and decided to have her final thoughts for Garfuncle Arbourfoyle. She stared deeply into the blue rug.    You hear me, you old buffoon Garfuncle?  This is your fault and I know you�re down there!  I may have been fooled the day I met you, but mark my words; I now know the monster you were.  Rutherford introduced me as the love of his life.  I believed and admired you so much.  I mean, why wouldn�t I.  I was only twenty-one years old and in love with your brother.  You stood at our wedding table to give a toast of great fortune and a home of warmth and love for a lifetime.  Things changed  shortly after Jonathon and Jennifer were born.  You threw my Rutherford out of the family business like tossing out the garbage.  Well, look at you now, you old miserable tycoon.  Look where you ended up.  Bet it�s nice and warm down there.  (Lidia smirked.)  You never did like the cold.  This is your entire fault and I hope you never rest in peace.  If you had thought about what it would do to your brother�s wife, having twins at such a young age, and then having her life ripped out from under her, I know you wouldn�t have done it.  Or, would you?  I guess that�s just the selfish bastard that you were.  We were so happy, Rutherford and I.  I hold you completely responsible for Jonathon�s behavior with gambling and drinking.  Because of you and your promiscuous ways, my son treated women like whores.  You may have ruined dear Jonathon�s life but you won�t ruin my Jenny�s.  She is married to a doctor now.  Even though he thinks of himself as God, I know that Jennifer will be taken care of.  If they get divorced she will be entitled to half of his estate and assets.  I hope you enjoy your eternity in hell, Garfuncle, because you deserve it.  Lidia Schuster   ********************************************************** From: nitacl Sent: 10/28/2003 12:05 PM Larisa Arbourfoyle Garfunkle's exwife First of all, I will tell you right now...I did not kill Jonathan.I was talking with Nina when we heard the awful scream and ran in to find the poor man on the floor. He was like the a son to me. I will not rest until his murderer is found.. Our converation before the event concerned whether Nina would inherit a large portion of the estate. Or would that hussy and her daughter inherit most of it? Oh, how happy we were until that chippy came into our lives! Things were perfect and I had no idea that Garf would be so devious as to take a mistress and throw me out of our home. It has done so much to mine and Nina's relationship..years of being apart.I hope Garf rots in Hell! Jonathan had his faults..but look at his mentor. No wonder he drank,gambled and chased skirts. Still we all think he would have inherited the lion's share of the estate. Perhaps that's why he was killed. I can only hope that when they read the will, that Nina will inherit what is rightfully hers(as far as I am concerned Cookie and her brat have no right to any of it.) I was his legal wife and Nina his legitimate daughter. Nina has promised me that whatever she inherits she will share with me and make sure that after all my suffering, my life will be the way it should had been.If not for Cookie I would not have had to struggle with a pittance that they called sufficient to live on..I lived like a pauper. Still it is a pity than Jonathan is dead..But in the back of my mind, I can't help but think that maybe Nina will inherit more now and that will be good for me.......... *********************************************************** From: KellySprout Sent: 10/28/2003 3:38 PM Agents,   May I speak freely with you? I have been given to much thought on the matter of the murder of young Jonathan, questioning who would have motive to murder both tycoon and heir, and I am now convinced that Garfunkle was indeed murdered, or at least induced to a heart attack by something intensionally so shocking that he couldn't bear it. My question has been, once the baron died, not just who would the heir or heirs be, but who would be in the position to know, in order to eliminate them, and to what gain? Couple this with the sudden flight of the family barrister for no apparent reason, and my suspicion grows even stronger regarding the death of good old uncle G. It occured to me, then, though he carries a paunch and is twice my age, how did he reach the dear Ruth before I, unless... unless HE WAS ALREADY IN THE ROOM! Perhaps the cue ball is missing merely by virtue of being knocked off the table and rolling under some piece of furniture. Perhaps, the wound to the young lad's head is indeed of the right size and shape to fit the brass handle of Reginald Overpaunch's walking cane! You will need to find I cane, I believe, if you desire to find the truth.   ******************************************************************** From: blankie Sent: 10/28/2003 7:53 PM WESTERN UNION TELEGRAM   DISPATCH SITE:  BARBADOS DESTINATION: IMPRESSION MANSION SENDER: REGINALD OVERPAUNCH RECIPIENT(S): ARBOURFOYLE HEIRS   WOULD-BE HEIRS [STOP]:   INTERESTING CODICIL IN UNCLE GARFUNKLE'S WILL FULLY REDIRECTING INHERITANCE FUNDS [STOP]   I POSSESS THE ONLY BONA FIDE COPY OF SAID AMENDMENT [STOP]   I SHALL LIKELY BE IN TOUCH IN DUE TIME [STOP]   NOT REACHABLE AT CURRENT LOCATION [STOP]   VERY TRULY YOURS, REGINALD OVERPAUNCH   ****************************************************************   From: GHiggins4 Sent: 10/28/2003 10:04 PM Challenge #11 Murder at Impression Mansion File Investigation  "Mouldy, where the heck ARE you? I have been wandering around this mausoleum for an hour now searching for you!" "Well I didn�t exactly run away, Scullery." "Did you read the telegram from the family lawyer?" "Yes I did. Now why do you suppose that a supposedly innocent man would suppose to run away to the Barbados? AND why did he take the supposed will with him?" "I can�t answer that, May." "Mouldy, get back here as quick as you can. I need your help sniffing through these clues." "Speaking of clues, May, you find the murder weapon?" I mean do you know what was used to cave the kid�s head in?" "Lab analysis indicates a hard object, Dog." "Like a cane? Or like a billiard ball?" "More like a portable oxygen bottle, of the hand held type." Scullery said, reading from a file. "This case keeps smelling stranger and stranger, May." "Hurry up and do your stuff, Mouldy!" ----------------------------------------- Scullery's Notes According to Daria Arbourfoyle, everybody in this house could have done the murder. She figures that Jonathan was the heir apparent and not well liked for his ways. She has nothing good to say about any of them and seems to harbour alot of anger toward her deceased father. She did however put forth two good lead for us: check the credit cards of her Mother, Larisa, Aunt Lidia and sister, Nina.  Something about odd purchases on the old man's account. The other was an overt accusation that Dr. Allister Smythe is not really a doctor at all.... From: GHiggins4 Sent: 10/28/2003 10:14 PM Mouldy Notes I have read over Scullery's latest notes on the case and find them astute.  The only big piece of evidence she neglected to mention is that the wound in Jonathan's head was not caused by a cue ball or the head of a walking stick.  The size and shape, the M.E.'s report said, was that of a hand held oxygen cylander.  Curious.   Larisa Arbourfoyle seems to have an alibi for the time of murder but self admits to having motive as well.   Scullery will need me back with this lamming lawyer quick so we can chew a hole in all these alibis! ********************************************************************* From: Sassy_Catt Sent: 10/29/2003 5:31 AM Why the nerve of that Larisa, claiming she lived in poverty!! That grasping, greedy woman, I can well imagine how she thinks of the huge settlement Daddy gave her. It's not up to the lofty standards she once enjoyed, but twas more then sufficient to enable her to jet set around the world, hobnobbing with her snobby peers. Let's just say that her "poverty" would have allowed several families to live like kings. As for her estrangement from her darling daughter, it's hard to be a good mother, when you're more interested in partying and travel. And I know right well, she ran through money as if it was water rushing over a cliff. I admit, Daddy was not a loving man, he seemed to resent the fact that both Nina and I were female, we were treated as second class citizens with not a decent thought in our heads. The only redeeming quality about the old goat was his total love and devotion to my mother. That old harpy Larisa, did everything in her power to cause problems for them, constantly calling him with wild tales. As for her claiming my mother was a chippy, why that old witch. It's clear to see she's been spiteful and jealous all these years. And now she's plotting with my dear sister to get her grasping hands back on the family fortune. Daddy constantly held up cousin Jonathon as this shining example of the Abourfoyle lineage, a male to lead the family business, his business acumen lauded in our faces. Now they're all trying to crucify his memory, casting aspirations on his character. He was the only decent member of this pit of vipers I reluctantly call my family. Little do they realize it was all a facade, the tales of his skirt chasing and drinking, he's..... no, I mustn't tell tales about the dead, at least not yet! What's that you say? A telegram from Old Paunchy? Hmmmmm, I knew he was longing for a trip to the islands, but it seems his timing leaves much to be desired and comes at a very inopportune time. I wonder what the old codger is really up to. Daria Abourfoyle ****************************************************************************** From: carriet34 Sent: 10/29/2003 8:07 AM Me thinks Daria doth speak too much for someone born on the wrong side of the sheets. The speculation that I might be having an inappropriate affair with anyone concerned with this case is merely that. Speculation. Likely she's jealous that she's not treated with the same respect as other "family" members due to her lineage. As for me, I've had, what, 20 years as a servant here and as a servant, what would I have to gain by offing young Jonathan? The old man was a skirt chaser(even chased mine a few times) and dear Jonathan -- well Jonathan was just Jonathan. And Daria, darling, just because Paunchy shunned your advances (trying to work your way into a whopping inheritence) is no reason to slander my reputation. You should have talked to Daddy dearest about that. *********************************************************************** From: Sassy_Catt Sent: 10/29/2003 9:33 AM Why mercy me, did I mention it was an inappropriate affair? I dare say Ruth, it's not mere speculation on my part. For you see, there amongst the papers from Daddy's investigators was a love sonnet, old brittle pants wrote you, seems you've inspired the sap to flow in that wizened up excuse for a barrister. My hats off to you dearie, if you can manage to cozy up to that old brittle codger and get your hands on his fortune. As for thinking you offed cousin Jonathon, I dare say you were mad enough to throttle him soundly, when he squealed to dear old Dad, but I think that's as far as your anger went. No, I'm more then a wee bit curious if you know the reasons Old Paunchy disappeared so abruptly? And as for me being on the "wrong side of the blanket", tis true, but seeing as how Daddy legitimized me, it's all water under the bridge so to speak. I've as much right to be a part of this family as any others. Now as for thinking I would come onto that crusty old codger just to get part of this inheritance, for land's sakes... no one needs money THAT desperately! Daria Abourfoyle ********************************************************************* From: KellySprout Sent: 10/29/2003 4:21 PM From Garfunkle Arbbourfoyle's medical chart: Mother of Misery Hospital Patient: Garfunkle Arbourfoyle Attending Physician: Allister Smythe, DVM,DDS,PhD,ETC  Oct. 22 - 6:05 pm: Patient in a foal mood, complaining of a horse cough and nagging sinus drip. Threw a shoe at me when I suggested his cough sounded more braying than horse. Took vitals. Heart racing. Suggested he stop horsing around with Anna, or at least rein it in a bit. Note to Alice: patient should have oatmeal and maybe a lump of sugar for breakfast, and make sure the milk is pasturized. Oct. 23 - 5:30 pm: Noted that the patient's oxygen is low. Asked Anna to move his bottle from the floor to a bedside table. Oct. 23 - 7:40 pm: Anna raised the head of his bed. Health appears to be declining. Oxygen bottle is gone. Anna must be changing it. Oct. 24 - 4:52 am: Received an emergency call. When I arrive at the estate, patient was not breathing. Attempted to breathe for patient, but hyperventilated and had to stop. Declared patient dead at 5:24 am. Preliminary cause of death: cardiac arrest. After review my notes, I have come to the conclusion that I don't recall seeing Garfunkle's oxygen bottle in the room on the morning he died. My last entry the night before indicates it was missing. Perhaps Anna should be asked as to its whereabouts? ****************************************************************** From: StoicalTammy Sent: 10/30/2003 12:01 AM Allister, my love. It seems days since we've been in touch. So much has happened. My poor, dear distraught mother. How I hate for her to be so hurt. I never realized she was so bitter toward Uncle Garfunkle. I could almost feel the bitterness oozing from her. I will have to make a note to speak with her after shopping tomorrow.  Those daughters of Uncle Garf do have some nerve, don't they just? Casting blame on everyone else so as to throw suspicion off themselves. Hmmph... I declare, I have ne'er seen a sorrier bunch. And Allister, you talk too much for someone who never says anything. It's only now that I begin to see your true colors.. "Poor little Anna" my arse. As far as being besotted with me, and failing to see other women, well, I don't think I was the one on your mind when you were staring at her rump! Maybe that is it.. You thought with Jonathan perhaps getting the inheritance, if something happened to him, he would bequeath it to me. Then you could knock me off and use my money to run away with the trollop that you are so fascinated by.(sigh) I just adore you so dearly, Allister. It is unbearable to me to think of you with anyone else. I know you would never truly do such a thing, but my heart is broken to pieces. Oh, do say you still love me too, darling husband. I feel I wouldn't have a life without you in it.  (sniff, pout) What would I do? Where would I go? Please say we can somehow make this right, and be happy again. Mayhap we could go on a nice, lovely vacation.. See the sights, even buy that wonderful bureau that matches our Louis XIIII armoire that I just love. Wouldn't that me so grand? Say it will be so, my dear. And if you would be so kind, please some to tea with mother and me tomorrow eve. I just don't think I am capable of handling her tears on my own.. With affection, Jennifer *****************************************************   From: Mindy Sent: 10/30/2003 3:47 AM Ah, agentsh Mouldy 'n' Shcullery -- Looksh like it'sh gonna be a long night.  Care for a drink?  hiccup!  Oopsh -- may az well admit it, I'm Drunk!  hic!  'Shcuse me.  Funkie ushed to say he liked my directness -- hic.  He'd shcare the bejesush outta me to stop these curshed hiccupsh hic too hic.  We'd laugh sho hard (sigh).   Reems, I'd like a drink, please.   Funkie?  Oh that's my (pardon me, it ushed to be) my pet name for my recshently departed Garfunkle.'f ya ashk me, it'sh his demise that ya should be investigatin'  When I arrived at the home, my Funkie was lyin' on his shtomach -- dead!  Moldick -- Cuttlery -- please do shomethin' 'bout this!  My Funkie couldn't turn to his shtomach without help.  Well, unlessh it was cowgirl night, and with the aid of the rope.  But even then, hic, I had to ashisht him -- and it wasn't easy with those shpurs on!  He luffed cowgirl night.  (sigh)   Another drink, please Reems.   Yesh, I will do my besht to conshentrate on tonight'sh eventsh.  Shomebody hash to tell the truth!  'f ya lishen to them ya might az well slap the handcuffsh on me!  But I know the truth.  ...Handcuffsh -- Reminds me of cop and robber night with Funkie (sigh)   More shcotch Reems!    I'm talkin' 'bout all these blood shcking VULTURES who consistently tried to finagle money from poor Funkie when he was shtill here. Fambly -- HA!  Devious, greedy, VULTURES, the lot of 'em!  Ev'ry one of Funkie's male fambly members tried to get in my pantsh  -- and ev'ry female member hatsh me because of it (not to mention their fear that our deserving daughter, Daria deserves to inherite the lion's share of her daddy's fortune).   Of coursh this hatred ekshcludes my Daria.  We luff one another dearly.  Oh yesh shweet, reliable Cosmo and I get on well.  He never tried anything outta line.  Has a "thing" for that Anna wench, and has since the first day that Funkie hired the wretch.  That twit ish shtill employed here, just b'cause of Funkie's appreciation for Cosmo's dedication to him.  T'was that hired help, Anna, who tried to "service"my Funkie over and above the duties of a house maid.  hic!  Anna was so transparent -- always throwing herself at my Funkie.  She thought to take my playsh with him -- ha!  Fool that she is , she never caught on -- that was impossible!  Funk and I were dedicated to one another.  I do miss him.  (sigh)   I could use a cold one Reems...   Shpeaking of cold ones, I shee Larisha's up to her old shelf -- puttin on heirs -- get it?  heirs!  ha ha ha... chuckle, snort, hic!  ' Claims she lived as a pauper, eh?  Guessh flyin' from her London eshtate to Rodeo Drive to buy those shpecial made elephant shoes was a bit coshtly.  Funkie gave her more than she deserved -- much more!  Larisha married Funkie for his money, then forbad him to touch her -- hic.  Funkie told me all about it.  That old gal was on her way out, whether or not Funk reshcued me from that chorush line.  My Funkie (hic), was mush too hot blooded for the likes o' her!  That woman has ishe water courshing through her veins!    Yesh, he was a hot blooded man, my Funkie...   Reems -- that drink please!  Just let the old battle axsh hold it for a shecond -- that should chill it!  ha ha hic ha hic!   My Daria never knew that special playsh that she had in her father's heart.  Funk had trouble showing affection to anybody but me.  He confided in me, and admired Daria's delicate, feminine features, and her gentle shoul -- unlike those highfallutin' Arbourfoyles with those gawd awful feet!    Promised me that he'd take care o' her and me, Funk did.  He knew what these vultures are like -- knew they'd try to ekshclude Daria and I, who luffed him the most.    Now thish -- another murder!  What won't these gold diggers do for money?    Sho you shee, hic, my Daria and I will be provided for by the will.  Funkie never lied to me -- not once -- not even when he shaid that he would marry me if I bore him a son.    The S.O.B. kept his word.  We never married, and sho they judge me.  Jush wanted my Daria to be legitimate, ya know?  Even that lowly shervant Ruth, judges my undeserving daughter.    Oh yesh, you want to know where I was when Johnny got whacked...   I was here, where I am now -- sittin' here in my fav'rite chair, watchin' the Arbourfoyle shcheming theatrics -- 'n' gettin' drunk!  Haven't moved an inch shince hot to trot Anna screamed bloody murder from the billiard room.  Just sat here, I did -- knew there'd be trouble with thish bigfoot tribe.  I no longer have any desire to be asshociated with 'em.   REEMS!!! ******************************************************************** From: KellySprout Sent: 10/31/2003 9:34 PM Jennifer, dear, innocent Jennifer,   You are so mistaken about my intentions and my love. I fear that the mischief, misgivings, and melodrama of your family and kin are rubbing off on you! If looking at Anna's rump could cause brother Jonathan to cave his skull in, then the dear lad would be alive today. And as for waiting in the wings, with fingers crossed, that maybe one of these misfits would kill the lad enabling me to -- what did you say? "Knock me off?" -- Dear! My beloved! If you HAD the inheritance, why would I NEED or DESIRE to knock you off? So that I could let the inheritance slip through my fingers and go to uncle dearest's next highest bidder? Pluheeeeze!   So, instead of brushing the back of your hand across your eyes and fainting in a distraught fit of sorrow over your presumed lost love, perhaps you should be wondering who couldn't wait long enough to let nature take your famous uncle gracefully and felt the need to hurry his demise and then insure that your darling baby brother kept his uncle company. Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know what happened to the upstairs oxygen bottle, would you Jennifer?   ********************************************************************   From: GHiggins4 Sent: 11/1/2003 4:05 AM   Challenge #11: Murder at Impression Mansion Files Investigation Notes to Mouldy: I had the weirdest conversational encounter with the dearest, and lovely but loaded "Miss. Cookie Garfunkle". She came staggering in the ballroom, "slurring" on every word as to literally "spitting" them across the room to where I was standing, admiring a painting of the old man. Well, I was having a hard time with noticing that the eyes on the painting looked so real, but Cookie thought even more so and captured a whole person view of it. She thought you were the painting, Mouldy. I mentally noted in our conversation that her and the "Funkie" as that was her pet name she liked to call old man "Garfunkle Arbourfoyle" never married. She said that was the reason the family never really liked her being in his will or thought of her and her precious daughter Daria part of the family. We need to follow up with Cookie when she can tell her story sober enough to realize that she wasn�t having that conversation with the two of us, (and make sure I�m not crazy) cause you and I both know that I was in the ballroom with you on the cell phone, and about to interview with Mr. Reems the Butler, when she came in and gave me her Hic Ups, instead. I know Cookie was drunk, but the thought of her talking to me and at the same time seeing the painting on the wall as being you in the flesh, well, that just gave me the creeps. Dumb painting, not only gave me the willies but I couldn�t stop looking at it and wondering why. We really have to be sure I�m not going crazy and maybe you should speak with her after she sleeps it off. So I took another step at a conversation with Reems. I could see that from the butler having played bartender, he knew more about Cookies drinking habits. She was ordering him to fetch her (only about five) drinks within in the 25 minutes we spoke to one another. He doesn�t seem to have much of a liking for Cookies drinking behavior and said that the family in the Mansion Place is all a bunch of misfits. Reems has not endured much love or trust on the family that comes and goes here but did serve the old man Garfunkle well. Reems also thinks that Overpaunch and the young cousin Jonathan had some kind of plans of their own on the old man Garfunkle. We will need to further sniff around that area, right Mouldy? Hmmmm, maybe this family cares only about money and soon they�ll all be leaving more tracks for us to follow. I wish you would phone home, Mouldy. There is so much we need to discuss! Then again, why don�t I phone you? That�s cell phone logic!   Mouldy snapped the slider shut and leaned back against the wall behind him and tried to stifle his laughter. Watching Scullery wipe Cookie�s drunken spittle from her overcoat struck him as just TOO funny! Composing himself, he stepped back up to the peephole and slid it open again. The scene had changed. Gone was the drunken mistress and Scullery was alone. She rose from her chair and started toward the very painting Mouldy was hiding behind. The eyes in the painting were so realistic. Scullery leaned closer to the portrait of Garfunkle Arbourfoyle that hung on the east wall of the ballroom to better study them. Just then Reems came in from the salon. "Ahem, Madame" Scullery spun about, startled. "WHEEEEEE!" she shrieked happily. Reeves strode closer and seized the spinning FBI agent by the shoulders both to stop her twirling and to keep her from falling down dizzy. After that things got much more serious. Mouldy observed from his hiding place the entire interview with Reems the butler, while chewing on his favorite treat, beef jerky - not just tasty but good for your teeth! - The old boy sure had a lot of prejudice toward the family! After Reems had departed, Scullery sat doing her notes and glancing somewhat nervously at the painting. Finally she stood and reached for her cell phone. She pressed the speed dial for Mouldy. The painting began to ring. Scullery looked at it quizzically. It continued to ring! Mouldy, in the cramped secret passage behind the walls struggled with his own overcoat trying to free his cell phone, silently cursing himself for not having it on vibrate. Such a long ring time, what a waste! Scullery moved closer to the ringing portrait of Garfunkle. Her own phone had grown somewhat limp in her hand as she examined the frame of the painting, trying to figure out how one answers a painting. Just then the ringing stopped, and at the same time from her phone she heard, "Mouldy!" in a quick, excited whisper. "Mouldy? Is that you?" she whispered back. As Mouldy pondered, Scullery allowed her gaze to slide up to the eyes in the portrait again. Odd how closely they resembled those of her partner! Then they blinked! Scullery jumped back, shocked! Then peered more closely still at them. "Mouldy are you still there?" The painting blinked again, twice, and rapidly. "Um�yes?" "If you can still hear me, Mouldy, blink twice." She watched as the painting began blinking fast. "Mouldy, where are you, exactly?" The eyes in the painting became still and widened. Mouldy started to chuckle. "Surprise?" he tried. Scullery punched her cell phone with an angry finger, breaking their connection. Then glared at the painting "What are you doing back there, Mouldy?  The eyes in the painting disappeared, leaving two black holes staring back at her. "Meet me in the billiard room, Scullery!" came a muffled voice from behind the artwork. Scullery headed for the billiard room as instructed. She arrived just in time to see Mouldy emerging from a sliding panel in the wainscoting. "What did you find? Is it a passage?" "Yes. They run all over this mansion! It�s really quite fantastic! I have seen some really kinky� I mean interesting stuff!" "Who else do you suppose knows about the secret passages?" she said. "I�ll bet the murderer does. Oh and hey! Look what I found!" Mouldy retrieved from the pockets of his coat the missing cue ball and a book. "I found the ball Scullery!" he said, wiggling with excitement! "You should have bagged that, Mouldy!  Mouldy reluctantly dropped the cue ball into the baggie that Scullery was holding out.  "Oh and this book too! It seems to be young Jonathan Arbourfoyle�s personal diary!" Scullery took the diary from Mouldy and flipped to the last page. "This last entry is from just yesterday, Mouldy!" she exclaimed! ***************************************************************************************************************************** *NOTE THE PERSON DOING THIS ONE, DIDN'T WRITE IT ALL IN THE FIRST PERSON DIALOGUE. From: �Chanti� Sent: 11/1/2003 9:06 AM What's cooking eh?   Agents Mouldy and Scullery finally get to interview Alice Doughy in the kitchen.  She is balancing her ample body precariously on a small 3-legged stool, and is dabbing at her eyes with her apron.  She must once have been a pretty woman.  Her features are dainty in spite of her plumpness and she has large expressive eyes and charming dimples.  The kitchen is well ordered and the staff seems to have a healthy respect for 'Miss Alice' as they call her.  She has a strange accent in spite of the fact that she has lived in America for the past 30 years.  Her cockney roots show and when under stress, her accent becomes even more pronounced.  Agent Mouldy doesn't waste time and asks her where she was at the time of the murder.  Agent Scullery appears to be taking notes. "I was outside trying to catch them roosters so I could wring their bloody necks.  That's where I was.  Ask Ruth if yer like.  When she came to fetch the tray of desserts, I was chasing after em with me rollin' pin in me 'ands." A huge tear rolls down her rounded cheek, "Them roosters were squawking so loudly I didn't hear Ruthie's scream when she saw Master Jonathan lying face down on the carpet." In spite of her overt softness, Agent Mouldy believes there is more to the voluptuous Miss Alice than meets the eyes and is ruthless in his questioning of her.  He has unearthed vital information that seems to be very incriminating.  Investigation has revealed that she is not only an illegal immigrant but also has a criminal record �AND for manslaughter.  Finally after some interrogation, Miss Alice breaks down and confesses all: "Yes, yes oi did it!  I topped me ol' man but it was a mistake I tell ya" she bursts out, her face red with shame and in her stress, her accent stronger. "Oi smashed 'is head in with me rolling pin after 'e got drunk and tried to beat me again.  I got off with a suspended sentence but I couldn't hold me head up after that." Agents Mouldy and Scullery shake their heads in amazement, listening in silence as Miss. Alice unburdens her tortured soul.  Shunned by her friends and family after the death of her cruel drunkard husband, Alice found herself penniless and completely alone.  She had never had children because she had been so badly beaten during a pregnancy and the subsequent miscarriage had caused irreparable damage.  This was a blessing at the time but she had come to regard it as a curse.  If she had been able to bear children, maybe old Garf would have married her.  They had met 32 years before when Garfunkle Arbourfoyle made one of his business trips to London.  She was working as a pastry chef in a little patisserie in London when he discovered her.  She was not sure what he loved more, her delicate pastries or her ample charms.  Garf swept Alice off her feet and by the time he offered to take her back home with him to take charge of his kitchen (and to warm his bed), she was so in love, the fact that he was married didn't make one jot of difference to her.  He promised her he would divorce Larissa and marry her as soon as he possibly could and she believed him. Alice takes a deep breath and steadies her shaking hands before continuing her story with her strange mixed accent. "I 'elped Garf with lots of 'is candy recipes I did.  He was sweet on me in more an one way 'e was. " Scullery is having a hard time keeping up with the woman who speaks so fast her words seem to literally flood out of her mouth.  The accent doesn't help either.  When he mentions Cookie's name, a sudden change comes over the woman - her eyes become as hard as steel and her entire body stiffens.  It is obvious she hates Cookie with a passion.  This does not extend to her unfaithful long time lover because in spite of his infidelity, she staunchly defends him. "Cookie was only 'is slag on the side.  'e was 'oping she'd give 'im a son so 'e could run the empire on 'is death.  She gave birth to that little snot-nosed brat Daria instead.  They was all after 'is dough they were but I knew 'e loved me cos the only dough I was after I made with me own two 'ands.  Garf looked after me 'e did.  Oive got a few pennies of me own stashed away and I know me Garf woulda made sure oi was looked after. Why would I kill that nephew of 'is eh? " ********************************************************************* From: Rinnah_� Sent: 11/1/2003 9:22 AM Questions have arisen as to why I have remained silent until now...I have heard all the innuendos that have been circling around this mansion, like a child on a merry go round, faster and faster, but it has taken me this long to collect the pieces of my broken heart over such cruel treatment to begin the process of telling my story.   It is, then, with the deepest sorrow that I address this situation. Sorrow over Jonathan�s passing, yes, of course, as he was a dear boy, if a bit of a lush, as the rest of the family, but mostly sorrow over the false accusations that I have endured. When I came to this household eight years ago, an orphan, with no one else in the world to call my own, it was with the deepest desires , that I could sort of adopt this family as my own. Oh, I know I was just an upstairs maid, and perhaps my illusions were far too grand, to think that a family of this magnitude of riches and grandeur could ever look at me as anything but hired help...but still....sometimes...most especially around the holidays, Halloween especially, when the old man would make sure everyone had all the candy they could eat, I entertained those thoughts in secret. Sigh. Of course, I know now what I have always refused to admit in my heart...there is no place for me here. The only one who has ever really treated me with any kindness was Reems, the butler, and wellllll...even at that...I caught him on more than one occasion eyeballing me in a way that was definitely not of �fatherly concern." When I was promoted to nursemaid to Mr. Garfunkle, I accepted the extra duties without complaint, although I must admit, the family was too stingy to part with adequate compensation, and it was a most unpleasant job. Ancient that he may have been before he died, the Master still seemed to consistently have enough energy to attempt unwanted advances against my person, if you know what I mean. The absolute worst was when I had to give him his sponge baths! I remember one time, about three years prior to his death, I was involved in this most unpleasant task when all of a sudden he grabbed me, and pulled me on top of him. Of course this horrendous incident also just happened to be witnessed by none other than Cookie, his ancient mistress, who staggered in without knocking. Close on her heels, the illustrious Dr. Smythe, and his paranoid wife, Jennifer. Naturally they all assumed the worst, and Cookie, in her drunken rage, actually bodily attacked me, shrieking like a Banshee, as the old man cackled gleefully from the bed...still buck naked! Dr. Smythe did have the presence of mind to pull her off of me, and Jennifer escorted her from the room, but not before giving me an evil glare, and mouthing something that sounded suspiciously like the word "Trollop." This could have been due to the fact that her Doctor husband seemed to be taking unnecessary pains helping me wipe off my wet nurse�s uniform. I was almost ready to turn in my resignation after that incident, but Nina convinced me to stay. She told me that all of the hullabo would soon die down, and that she would have a word with her father about his unwanted advances against me. She seemed to fancy me as a younger sister or something, for she and Daria were forever at odds...I suppose it had something to do with Daria being the illegitimate child of her father and his mistress, the old bag, Cookie. Daria is quite caustic, and seems to especially detest me...I suppose it might be due to the fact that I was in such close contact with her father, but it could be simply perhaps she is rather an unattractive woman, even if she is quite intelligent. In my experiences with men, (mostly unpleasant ones) however, the last thing they are interested in is intelligence. At least the men of this family. Even Jonathan shared this trait, although he never really made any untoward passes at me. Dr. Smythe on the other hand, well .....let�s just say after the sponge bath incident...he seemed to harbor some kind of fantasy that I would enjoy playing Doctor with him more than actually assisting him in any kind of "real" position as the family nursemaid. Perhaps if his wife would spend more time caring for his needs than buying baubles and shoes, this may not have been the case. Or perhaps, like all of the other men in this family, he is simply a pervert. To address the question of the missing oxygen bottle that he raised, I changed the oxygen as instructed, and left the empty bottle there while I left the room to fetch some clean bed linen for the Master�s bed. When I returned, Cookie was in the room, bent over the bed and weeping in her usual drunken manner. Upon seeing me, she began her usual tirade of insults, calling me a "Harpy" and telling me to get out. I, not wishing to be attacked by the old crone again, went downstairs for a cup of tea. Dr. Smythe came into the kitchen while I was there, and told me he would take the clean linens upstairs when he checked on the Master, and not to "Worry my pretty little head about Cookie." As to my whereabouts on the night of the murder, I had just spoken to Nina and was passing through on my way to the kitchen when Dr. Smythe stopped me with a comment about my dress, telling me he preferred the nurse�s uniform over the outfit I was wearing. Quickly disengaging myself from his hand on my arm, I glanced back over my shoulder to see Jennifer with a murderous expression on her face. Having already heard the two of them in a terrible row earlier that evening, I left before I had to witness another one. Passing Ruth on the way to the kitchen, I heard her sneer at me as she walked past, laden with the dessert tray, "Upstairs help is too good to have to do menial labor such as this, I suppose. Once you�ve given an old man a sponge bath, you�re set for life!" Hanging my head in sorrow, I kept going, passing the chair where Cookie had been sitting all evening, as she steadily got plastered. To my surprise, it was empty!! "Oh well, the old crone�s bladder must have needed emptying after all those martinis," I thought to myself. Suddenly, just as I was passing through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen proper, an ear splitting shriek rent the air. The rest, you have already heard. As for me, and my dreams of once being a member of this family, I have decided that it would be more beneficial to remain forever an orphan. Even a family of jackals would be more pleasant than to be mixed up in this bunch of cutthroats. I do hope the case is solved soon...perhaps the detectives should take a closer look at that huge purse that Cookie totes around with her everywhere she goes. I have a sneaking suspicion there might be another bottle in there besides the vodka one. ~Anna~ ********************************************************************** From: GHiggins4 Sent: 11/4/2003 11:31 PM Challenge #11 Murder at Impression Mansion Files Investigation The Diary of Jonathan Arbourfoyle Scullery flipped to the last page of the book with an entry on it. She quickly scanned the almost too neat handwriting in seconds, a thoughtful look coming over her countenance. Her eyes flicked off into space for a moment and then refocused on Mouldy. "The last entry in Jonathan�s diary, Mouldy�" I think we have a clue here." The entry is dated for yesterday." She paused to re-read the lines, I had a brief meeting with Uncle Garfunkle the daybefore he died. I told him then about my lover. It has been so difficult to keep everything so hush-hush and I felt I owed Uncle at least my honesty. He was SO angry with me. Told me to break it off and straighten out my affairs or he would cut me out of the will altogether! Well I guess he will have a hard time of that now!!! Dead men cannot rewrite their wills! Still, it bothers me that after so many years of hiding Jennifer�s spending under the guise of my gambling and keeping up the "front" of being a playboy, that he should think so poorly of me now. He did inform me that he was well aware of where all the money I had borrowed from him really went.  Poor, poor Jennifer. Tied to an eternity of life with that insufferable, stuffed shirt, Allister. DOCTOR Smythe, whose �partner� in practice has been mysteriously absent since two weeks after bringing my sister�s hubby on board at the clinic. Medical Degree from Stanford my ASS! nobody in administration at that university has ever heard of our good doctor! I shall have to confront the swindling dog one day soon. One day when all the Impression Confectionary coffers are in MY keeping! "Well, Mouldy, not only was Jonathan on the �outs� with old Uncle Garf, but there is also the allegation here that Dr. Smythe is no doctor at all!"  "I think I had better do a background check on him while you go and interview him again, Mouldy." "Okay, you do that. Oh and I heard back from Assistant Director. My travel voucher to the Bahamas and extradition papers for one Reginald Overpaunch are ready downtown." "Well make sure you see the doctor before you go" ******************************************************************** From: KellySprout Sent: 11/5/2003 2:24 AM Of course you may interview me again, Mouldy. I have nothing to hide. You want to see my credentials? Well, here they are right here. See? Real diplomas printed on real sheepskin! And in the winter, they can be turned over and the wooly side used as pillows!   You might appreciate this one. It is my Doctorate of Vetrinary Medicine (DVM), printed on official PetSmart letterhead! That makes me at least as much a surgeon as Figarro in the Barber of Seville. This entire band of inlaw outlaws is set on accusing me of not being a "real" doctor. I'm sure they would feel better if Dr. Killdare were married to Victoria, and at times, so would I! Shhhh! Don't tell her I said that!   Oh, don't look so pained, Dog. Are you feeling OK? No, you don't need a shot. (No, Cookie, we are NOT talking about Scotch, over here!) All you really need, Dog, is this nice, tasty pill which I can hide easily enough in your food.   As for dear brother, if he really had a True Confession with "dear" Uncle Garf, then the old coot probably DID write him out of the will after all. So, here's what *I* think went down. Jonathan went upstairs on the night of Garf's death and rolled him over onto his stomach in order to smother him with the pillow. (Jonathan, the thoughtless playboy that he was, was a little slow and it probably never occurred to him to just place the pillow over Garf's face!) However, before he overpowered the old man, Garf must have hit Jonathon over the head with the oxygen bottle, burying it so deeply that it temporarily stuck there. But, Jonathon, being thick-skulled, didn't notice until earlier this evening when he went to the water closet where he noticed it when he looked in the mirror. Upon pulling it out, he succumbed and fell dead as he passed the pool table on his way back to the sitting room.   Murders solved! And that's my story, and I'm sticking to it! ****************************************************************** From: Sassy_Catt Sent: 11/5/2003 11:27 AM Looks questioningly at my dear cousins husband and inquires, "Pray tell doctor, if you're married to Victoria and my cousins name is Jennifer, then are you committing bigamy? Do you have another wife?" Detectives, I think his little slip up, bears looking into, maybe Jonathon discovered this and was about to blow the whistle. That could be a definite motive for murder. I know Jonathon had many doubts about the doctors background and credentials, perhaps this was but one tip of the iceberg. And I don't for one minute believe this ludicrious theory of how Daddy killed Jonathon or vice versa. I know Jonathon's news would have deeply shocked "the old goat", I mean after all, finding out Jonathon was.... no, I promised myself I wouldn't speak ill of my deceased cousin, at least not yet. I'll keep this to myself, at least for the time being. Daria ********************************************************** From: nitacl Sent: 11/5/2003 12:50 PM Agents Mouldy and Scullery, I can't believe you listened to that lush Cookie. Her and her Cowgirl night! Most unseemly. I am a lady not a guttersnipe like that one.And as for Garf legitimizing that brat of hers? She nagged and nagged and threw drunken fits until the poor man just gave in. It was not her daughter that Garf confided in. It was mine. Many were the times that he told me that he wished he had kept the respectable wife I had been. He needed someone to help him with his clients. Someone with the good taste to entertain his guests in a fashion such as a man in his position deserved. Do you think Cookie could do that? Please! She would probably have played Cowgirl and Copas and Robbers with everyone of his clients. Good thing that he had Alice the cook and a proper staff to take care of that for him-especially Reems.Although he didn't like me, he is still the only person there with any idea of how to behave in a proper fashion. As to Cookie saying I was adequately compensated when the divorce went through, she should live in the rundown flat I have in London. She said I made trips to Rodeo Dr to buy shoes? Why in 30 years I went there to buy shoes only one time. They don't have my size in London. Now as to where my Nina and I were when Jonathan was killed..we had just finished our conversation about her possible inheritance. I was still in the main room and she had gone upstairs to talk to Anna. How could anyone question me like this? How dare you! I would question that hussy again if I were you. She wasn't in that chair the whole time you know. I saw her coming from the direction of the billard room. And she was stone cold sober!   Larisa Arbourfoyle   *********************************************************************   From: Sassy_Catt Sent: 11/5/2003 3:04 PM Larisa you really do need to get your ophthalmologist to check your prescription again, and perhaps get some ear candling done. I never claimed "the old goat" confided in me, I said he resented that sister dearest and I were born female and thought females just don't have what it takes to run his precious company. Jonathon was the one he confided in and doted on. Seeing as how he was the only male Abourfoyle, dear old Dad put him in charge of the day to day running of the candy company, retaining only his seat on the board. And lord woman, claiming you live in squalour, I've seen the "little flat" you call a hovel, my goodness I'd hardly call 31 Wilton Crescent, Belgravia, pauper's country. Detectives, would you care to see a picture of her "poverty home"?? "Larisa's Dining Room"    Now then, that should prove for once and all, just how destitute the woman really is! She'd love nothing better then to get her greedy, grasping hands back on Daddy's money.  I'd imagine it takes a pretty penny to pay all her retainers, not to mention all the lavish parties she's so fond of throwing to impress her snobby friends. Daria *************************************************************** From: carriet34 Sent: 11/5/2003 5:07 PM Thanks to the information given by Anna and Miss Alice, it looks like my name has been cleared. As Anna admitted having spoken to me in the hallway as I was on my way from the kitchen(as also said by Miss Alice) with a tray of desserts. I only wish I had not been the one to almost trip over Sir Jonathan's body. I shan't forget that sight any time soon. I surely hope that those detectives find the killer and soon. It's a bit scary to think that there's a murderer in our midst. The good doctor(or the good quack) seems to have everyone on edge and I've heard it rumored that he indeed might not even BE a doctor at all. The way this family is, that would NOT surprise me in the least. And heaven only knows why Paunchy took off - surely makes those detectives curious I'd think. And dear Jonathan's diary --- what can be made of that I don't know. He talks about an affair, but he wasn't married and he never brought any certain woman around. Oh my-- could it be? Was the affair with a.....oh no --- I can't even say it. Thinking about this has given me quite the headache. I suppose I should return to my duties. Better not get caught daydreaming or whiling away time -- Reems will make me pay for it. ********************************************************* From: Mindy Sent: 11/6/2003 9:40 AM 'ey you! Moldy -- c'mere -- where's Calvary? No matter, you'll do. Ya might not b'lieve thish hic, but shometimes I get a little tipshy. Can ya blame me? I mean sheesh! Look around! Why there's 'nuff crim'nals in thish very room to keep you and that Shkeleton partner of yours busy 'ntil you retire! hic! And the LIES! Can you b'lieve what that Doughy cook Alish shaid 'bout me? There's a lulu for ya! Bumpsh off her ol' man,then calls me a murderer! Can't even eat -- an' I'm shtarving! hic! Ya think I'd trust anything from her kitchen? An' claimin' she helped my Funkie with makin' candy! Wretched liar! "I" was Funk's inshpiration! Who do ya think gave 'im the idea for licorice whipsh, all day shuckers, and fire balls? My Funkie knew he'd be nothin' without me. I made this empire! "Care for a whore-de-vore?" that Ruth shaid to me! Din't like the way she shaid it either! Uppitty shervantsh. I'm firin' all of 'em, soon ez the will's read an' thish plash is mine. hic! Yep, firin' the lot of 'em! ...An makin' ev'ry lasht Arbourfoyle git out! Shtick around Poultry, might needja ta make the greedy asholes leave. Thought 'bout giv'n Reems one of Daria's shize 6 shoes an' havin' 'im stand at the door with it. E'vry pershon whose club feet don't fit in it -- gotta go! HA HA snort HA!!! Short uvuh Shinderella moment -- only backwards! hic, chortle, burp! Larisha's goin' firsht!...that death uv the Titanic! Hey, where's Reems? I'm bone dry! Reems, come out from b'hind that ficus! I c'n shee ya there! I'll be needin' a refffresher Reems old boy -- make that a du'ble hic. 'Bout Larisha, Goldy -- ya can't b'lieve a word she shays. Funk never confided in Nina. He was 'shamed of Nina, poor thing. Didja know they turned 'er away from charm school? Yeah -- pathetic. Funk conshidered makin' a new shucker in her honor ta make 'er feel better, but never got to it. Yep, Clown Pops mighta been jusht the ticket in life for poor Nina. We'll never know. And the nerve of her to shay that I wasn't in this shair throughout thish ordeal! Ashk anybody! Oh wait! hic! I did use the little girl's room -- one time, if ya know what I mean -- but I used the lavatory in the east wing -- not the one through the bill'yard room. Ashk Reems. I caught 'im hidin' under a table in the hall. Oddesht thing. Maybe ya should check out Reems wierd b'havior. Ya never know -- he is pretty high shtrung. My pursh? hic! What about it? Yesh, I like 'em big. Ya seem awful int'rested in it. I shee now! I never woulda guesshed... ya look sho manly, and all, Foldy! Wouldja like to borrow it shumtime? I have matching shoes, but you might hafta go to Larisha for shum leather pumpsh, an' shtick shum cotton in the toes. oh -- sorry. WHO? ANNA shaid to check out my pursh!?!? That JEZABEL!!! Shtill jealoush that Funkie luffed me. That does it! She's gitt'n fired first! What'r ya lookin' for 'n there? 'f ya need a hankie, all ya hafta do is ashk... If you musht know hic!, my pursh doubles as a carrier for my Phoo-Phoo. That's why it'sh sho large. Phoo-Phoo is my Peek-a-Poo that Funkie gave to me lasht year on my 30th birthday. Yesh, I shaid THIRTIETH! What does a pershon have to do around here to get a drink? Reems! Come out from under that divan! ***************************************************************** From: SoaringDJSNOWY� Sent: 11/6/2003 4:54 PM Hi,   I'm Mister Pavel.  Viktor Pavel.  The gardener.  I'm hungry!  Where's the kitchen?  What?  My story?  Oh, yes!   I bet most of you were wondering where I have been all this time!  Well, I'm just a simple gardener.  I just mow the lawn, plant the potatoes, snip the roses, prune the apple trees, and eat the onions!   I have not been around for this time because I was tied-up in the cellar.  If it wasn't for Agent Mouldy ordering a search of the premises I may never be found.  And, alas, be dead!  I owe you my life sir.  You have my utmost gratitude.  We should have a few shots of vodka sometime!  How about right now!  Celebrate you saving my life - Come - Drink!  Later? What?  Oh yes!  My story!  Can I have a leg of smoked chicken?  I'm starving!  No!  Okay!  How about a bacon butty then?  No?  After the dtory?  Oh yes!  My story!   Well, as you all know, we were all standing around, when all of a sudden the lights went out.  The next thing I know was I hit my head on something and woke up in the cellar.  All tied-up and gagged.  I remember being thirsty.  Thirsty?  Yes!  Can someone get me a shot of vodka?  And a cheese nibel if you have one!   My story!  Yes!  I have seen not much.  I'm just a simple gardener.  I mow the lawn, plant the turnips, trim the hedges, and drink the vodka.  Vodka!  Yes!  That would be good right now!  A shot of vodka, all 'round!  Later?  Yes, my story.  Okay!  We'll drink a few bottles of vodka later.   I remember once, that there was a big commotion in the kitchen last week.  A bout two days before I was tied-up and gagged in the cellar.  My throat dry.  Like it is now.  Can I have my vodka now?  Just one!  Thanks!  I'll take the bottle, thank you!!!    That's better.  Yes, it was about two days before the blackout.  I noticed that Jonathan Arbourfoyle's, God bless his soul, sons voice.  really loud it was.  I'm not quite sure what it was about, as I couldn't hear them properly.  I don't know who he was arguing with.  As my eyes aren't as good as they used to be.  I'm just a simple gardener, you know.  I just mow the lawn, plant the carrots, tend the flowers, sort out the bee farm, and drink the vodka!  Vodka!  Yes!  Another mouthful of vodka.   That's better!  Yes, it was one of the chambermaids, it was.  I couldn't exactly make out who it was, but I did recognise the uniform.  So maybe you should check the chambermaid's out, huh!?!   Also, the day before.  I did see Mister Arbourfoyle's, God bless his soul, son.  Outside, in the front it was.  It was about 6am in the morning.  Oh yes, I remember it well.  As that was the morning we had the trouble with the chickens.  They didn't lay any eggs.  And if they did, they dropped them on the floor.  Clumsy isn't the word, I can tell ya.  But it turned out that they weren't being clumsy at all.  A fox had been in there.  But my cat's scared him off.  Yes!  You heard me right!  My three cats chased him off.  I have a lion, a tiger, and a panther.  I bought them off a circus we had last year.  They are legal.  I do have a licence, you know.  They love vodka too.  Vodka!  Yes!  Another mouthful!  Yes!   Thank you Agent Mouldy!  Or can I call you Doggy?  No?  Okay!  Thank you Agent Mouldy.  I owe you my life.  Come!  Let us celebrate!   Who was Mister Jonathan Arbourfoyle's, God bless his soul, son talking with outside?  Talking?  Shouting, more like.   Yes, he was shouting at the chauffer.  Not sure why...  But it did put Cosmic Dust, as I like to call him, drives him mad, hehehe, but I like it.  Yeh, that put Cosmic Dust, Cosmo, in a bad mood.  So much so, he didn't put my daily bet on.  I like a good flutter on the gee-gees.  But he didn't do it on that day.  Kept ranting on about 'taking care of a personal matter' or something like that!  But that was it!  Me and Cosmic Dust, good friends?   I'm just a simple gardener.  I keep myself to myself.  I just mow the lawn, plant the potatoes, snip the roses, prune the appletrees, and drink the vodka.  Vodka!  Yes!  Another mouthful.  Will soon need another bottle!  Hehehe.   No!  We are not, as you say, 'the best of friends.'  He just normally puts a bet on for me when he does his driving rounds.  Wherever he goes, I don't know.  But I was happy that he put the bets on for me.  Take me absolutely ages to do it myself.  If I did, the bees might excape, or the onions upturned!  I also remember smelling a funny smell.  A strange smell it was.  It was a weird smell.  Can't place it though!  But I'm sure I'd recognise it again though.    So basically, the lights went out, I smelt a very bad smell, got knocked out, tied-up and gagged in the basement!  Where it was cold and I got thirsty.  Vodka!  Yes!  Where's the kitchen?  I'm starving!   That's my story...   More vodka!   ******************************************************** From: Baby Sent: 11/8/2003 10:32 AM Well, well, well� isn�t this a merry little gathering! I bet you�re all surprised to see me! If fact, if you�re not surprised then I�m amazed, since I am supposed to be dead! Yes, yes, it really is me� the late, great Garfunkle Arbourfoyle! *gasp*   This has been an informative week! As my wonderfully imaginative daughter Daria suggested, I do enjoy knowing exactly what is going on around me. However, there was no one who was completely privy to what I was undertaking. *gasp* Had you all decided to actually work together and be honest, you all had a piece of the puzzle that would have added up to the entire story. However, knowing you all as well as I do, I knew that I was completely safe from that possibility! *gasp*   You know, I remember when I was young, people were so much more honest. Less grasping and self-serving, they were. A man could make an honest wage (or even an honest million) selling candy to innocent little� ehmm, where was I? *gasp* Ah, yes! My plot to uncover the truth behind your impenetrable facades. Although, clearly they were not so impenetrable if I� *cough, splutter* I faked my death, you see! I know, I know� a stroke of sheer genius! I am not so self-effacing as to deny my own brilliance! My dearest Cookie truly believed that at that moment in time, I had breathed my last, and I heard her comment "�and what a last!" Actually, Cookie dearie� *gasp* �I remember when I was a young, strapping lad, and I could� *cough, cough* Well, perhaps that�s not really a story for the present moment.  I must remember to share it with that lovely, buxom young� ehmmm� let�s continue with my story, shall I?   I breathed my last, and then I continued to breathe a little more, when Cookie wasn�t watching. Of course, it helped that the esteemed Doctor Smythe was a crooked as a *gasp* yes, well, it shall simply suffice to say, he could be bought! And cheap at the price. Our brilliant physician it seems, had a number of malpractice suits to be concerned about, when people started to realise he was using cheap versions of the medicines he prescribed, and pocketing the difference. You thought he was unqualified! Fools! Would I have a fake doctor sign my death certificate? I wonder how much I could sue him for, when you consider he pronounced a living man to be dead? Hahaha�*splutter, cough* Why, I remember when doctors were honourable, educated men who served humanity and simply could not be described as mercenary in any way. I suppose it is true that they used such dastardly techniques as bleeding, and leeches, but there is much to be said for the use of neat brandy as an anaesthetic! Nevertheless� *gasp*   Once the death certificate had been signed, and the coffin safely closed, I was free to observe you all as I wished. There were occasions on which I was nearly discovered. That bloody billiards room was practically a superhighway that night! I mean honestly, could you not all use the lavatory next door to the ballroom? No, it had to be the one down the passage! Have you ever visited a house that had a ballroom and a billiards room, but only one lavatory? I don�t think so! Why, I remember when people had some common sense, and a bit of savvy. They were able to discern which lavatory was nearest, most practical It�s simply� *cough, cough, splutter* Nonetheless, the billiards room was perhaps an awkward place to be.   The curtains are certainly musty! Rachel, Rahab... whatever your name is� Ruth is it? When last were those curtains cleaned? I remember when you could employ decent people who did the job without being asked� initiative! That�s the word! See to it that those curtains get cleaned soonest! Not to mention the mess made when you tossed your cookies� sorry, goodies, across the room! Now get to it, Rebekah! *gasp* I have led a good life.  Had a first wife, who although she desires me to rot in hell, was nonetheless a fairly decent woman. If she could only understand that I had nothing to do with estrangement from her daughter. The fact is that Nina is a self-serving, underhanded� *hack, cough, cough*   To continue with the events of that dreadful night� I was hiding in the secret passages alongside the billiards room, watching as you all played your little games. I saw Anna and the good doctor in a rather compromising position atop the billiards table. I am sorry Jennifer, but it is better that you know, is it not? It is sad that this is the state that marriage has come to. I remember when marriage was an honourable institution and people were faithful to their spouses. Well, it never happened in my own house but� *hack, splutter* I also saw Reems, my faithful butler, plotting with Ruth to sell my secret candy recipes to the Willy Wonka factory! I am horrified by the attitude of the staff employed in this house. It just goes to show that in this day and age you can trust nobody! My gardener Viktor is another case in point! While I was languishing in my coffin, he was smoking my treasured pipe tobacco and sitting in my favourite old chair. He found my secret stash hidden under the pansy pot in the conservatory.  Of course he has not done much work since, as it was ummmm� herbal tobacco (a pain relieving measure, you understand). *gasp*   Even my cook, Alice Doughy, has seen fit to betray me! I have rewarded her richly for her years of good service, both in cash and in kind.  Don�t think that I have not heard you gossiping with all and sundry about me.  You had the nerve to tell the press that you were responsible for many of my candy formulations.  Yes dear, you did help in the early days but I, Garfunkle Arbourfoyle, am the true genius behind the Funky Candy empire!  *hack cough*   The ultimate betrayal, and what has brought us all here today, was my beloved Jonathan Funklegar Arbourfoyle, my name sake and I thought the one to follow in my footsteps.  Ah Jonathan Jonathan, I had such plans for you *cough splutter gasp gasp* �It is true that Jonathan was my full heir to all that is Arbourfoyle but that was before I discovered his heinous activities and *gasp spit* ..and right here under my roof!  I saw him I did with that that *spit* disgusting man Cosmo with the queer surname!  That was not the only thing queer about him.  I caught them I did, exchanging saliva in copious quantities in the billiards room.  His womanising ways were obviously a smoke screen because yes, you guessed it, Jonathan was GAY! *cough splutter hack hack*  I could not believe my eyes! It was too much for my poor old heart and I nearly did die from a heart attack.  I could not contain myself and once that slime ball Cosmo had left the room, I burst from my hiding place in the secret passage and ripped the curtains aside.  I grasped him by the collar and tried to shake some sense into him.  At this point he retaliated and gave me a shove.  *cough cough cough*  I took temporary leave of my senses and before I  knew it, he was on the floor at my feet and my oxygen canister was stained and dented.  *splutter* (breathing from dented oxygen canister)   Ruth almost caught me standing there but I managed to duck behind the curtains and then made my way back to my secret chamber where I tried to gain control of my wildly beating heart.    And now here we stand.  My will has been amended.  That is why I sent Overpaunch to Barbados.  Jonathan is dead and I cannot be prosecuted because dead men don't kill. Mwaaahahahaha! *cough, cough, cough, splutter* When I decide to leave you, which I know will be shortly, the full heir to the Funky Candy empire will be my dear Cookie. Of all my family and friends, you have remained faithful to me always. I acknowledge that you have a problem with the juice, but the problem will never be that you cannot afford it! *cough, hack*   *********************************************************************************************     NOW THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE ENDING!   Baby played the part HE REQUESTED, but he changed it and then tried to make it like she got it wrong, but she still had the original email, with his request.  So he's the one tried to make a different ending.  I WON'T BOTHER SHOWING THE CONTRIVED ENDING HE TOSSED IN!   Hope you all enjoy reading this, it was a fun time for the most part.   My parts are in PURPLE as I played the character of Daria.   Mindy's are in PINK, as she played the part of my mother COOKIE, but her characterization of COOKIE, won her the challenge.  So I decided to highlight her part also.   The rest were changed to plain black text, to enable easier posting of this topic thread. THE END