Christmas Mystery Theater Redux 01

This story is part of an ongoing series. The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racism, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

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Part 1 - Prologue

Flashback...

3:30pm, Friday, November 6th. Carole's third grade teacher, Mrs. Joyce Wayne, had called Laura, asking for a parent-teacher conference. Of course Laura told me, and of course I attended as well.

Carole was sitting in her seat, sulking mightily as Laura and I sat up front with Mrs. Wayne. "So what is the issue?" Laura asked after we sat down.

"This." said Mrs. Wayne. She handed me a stapled sheaf of papers. As I perused it, I could see that it was a novel, in the form of a script for a play, in Carole's handwriting.

Mrs. Wayne said "I gave the class an assignment, to write a short story or play. Carole turned that in. When I read it, I asked who had helped her with it, and she said no one had. I didn't believe her, and still don't, and I told her that. She got mad, then started crying, and told me to call her parents. So I did, and here you are."

"And why don't you believe her?" I said as I passed the manuscript to Laura, then got out my official Police notebook and took out a page.

"You should read the whole thing, Commander." Mrs. Joyce said. "If you did, you'd see that there is no way a third grader could write something like that, and especially someone who is a year younger than her class."

"I did just read the whole thing." I said. "First, I noticed the solution was missing." I wrote something down on the piece of paper, then handed it to Mrs. Wayne.

Mrs. Wayne picked up a smaller sheaf of papers. "She submitted this at the same time, but stapled separately. She said it has the answer to the puzzle, and that she wrote it to try to fool you." She then looked at the paper I handed her. "And she didn't fool you."

I waved Carole to come up, and handed her the piece of paper. "Aw, mannnn." she said with a scowl as she read it. "You solved it."

"It was a very good try, though." I said. "And I suspect it that most people will have a lot more trouble with it."

"It's got me stumped." Laura said. "What's the solution?"

I stopped Laura from taking the answer portion from Mrs. Wayne. "Why don't you hold back on that." I turned to Mrs. Wayne and said "I see no reason to believe Carole didn't write this on her own. I know I didn't help her with it, and obviously her mother didn't either. And she wrote it to stump me. It wouldn't be much of a win for her if she'd had help, now would it?"

"That's what I said, Daddy." Carole said miserably. "But she wouldn't believe me."

"Why don't you go sit down." I said to Carole. She returned to her desk, pulled out a piece of paper, and began writing on it.

"And I don't understand why you would accuse my daughter of cheating," I said sternly, "just because it's an impressive script for a play."

"If I show that to every teacher in this school," said Mrs. Wayne, "every one one of them will say what I am saying, that that is far in advance of even fifth grade level students.

Laura said "But to accuse my daughter of cheating without a shred of proof is more than unfair. Don, I think we should take this up with the Principal, Mrs. Carlson."

"I won't stop there." I said. "I'll take it to the School Board."

Mrs. Wayne looked angry at that, but she quickly saw that we were also very angry at the unproven accusation against our daughter. "You may do what you like." she said. "But I'm not accepting that for the assignment. To be fair to her, I'll give her the opportunity to write another essay tomorrow, under supervision. Bring her here at 10:00am."

I was about to say something 'righteous', but stopped short when Carole came up to us with two sheets of paper full of writing. "There." she said. Then she whispered to me "I dumbed it down."

"This is more like it." Mrs. Wayne said as she perused it, though she was frowning as she read it. She then attempted to hand me back the play script. I did take it, and took photos of each page with my Police iPhone, and Laura used her iPhone to photograph the answer portion.

I then handed the script back to Mrs. Wayne and said "I want you to do what you said. Let the other teachers read this. And whether or not they believe Carole wrote that herself, which she did, I think you have your script for the annual Christmas play this year. Okay Laura, let's go talk to Mrs. Carson. I need to make sure that Carole isn't going to be harassed any further."

Mrs. Wayne did not like my insinuation, but knew she was close to having stepped over the line accusing a child of cheating whose father could do something about it. And with that, Laura and I left, not forgetting to take Carole with us.

Part 2 - Casting

Flashback...

Friday, November 13th. As State Senator Katherine Woodburn hosted her group of women on her back porch (Author's note: 'Smoke on the Water', Ch. 02), Carole was sitting with me on the back deck of The Cabin as the dogs went to do their business. And I had my own fire pot going.

"No sir," said Carole, "Mrs. Wayne isn't picking on me or anything. She's mad at me, but she's scared of you."

"Good." I said. "And like I said last week, if she gives you any problems that aren't your own fault, you let me or your mother know right away."

"Yes sir." said Carole.

"So... how is the play practice going?" I asked.

"Pretty good." Carole said. "It's a good thing that Mrs. Ramirez is the Director, though. She's the fifth grade drama class teacher. When I said Tyson should be Sherlock Holmes, Mrs. Wayne said it should be Sidney, and that Tyson should be part of the choir that isn't on much at all."

Carole: "And I'm Inspector Lestrade, and I said Jameis should be Constable Gregson, but Mrs. Wayne said to make him a property man that changes the scenes."

"So what happened?" I asked.

"Mrs. Ramirez said Tyson would be perfect for the Sherlock Holmes role." Carole said. "He's really smart. He's smarter than Sidney, but Mrs. Wayne treats Tyson like he's dumb. I think Mrs. Wayne just doesn't like black kids. She thinks they're dumb, and they can't be smart."

"Hmmm..." I said, putting that little factoid in a compartment of my mind.

"Mrs. Wayne thinks I'm dumb, too." said Carole. "I guess that's why she thinks I cheated. She doesn't believe I can write good."

"Write 'well'." I said, inwardly smiling at the paradox. "And some people can't believe it when I solve a crime and arrest a suspect, either. I just have to prove it to them, and you'll be proving it all your life, too."

Then to change the subject, I asked "And Jameis is Constable Gregson?"

"Yes sir." said Carole. "He fits the suit. And Marie is Dr. Watson. Mrs. Ramirez insisted Watson be a girl, I guess like the lady on that 'Elementary' TV show."

"Okay." I said. "I'm looking forward to seeing the play."

"Harumph." Carole said moodily. "You solved it already."

"I'm still looking forward to seeing the play." I said. "And we're going to have dinner there, and the groups at the tables will try to solve it. I'll have to recuse myself, of course...."

Part 3 - Four By Four

Back to present time: Friday, December 11th. I thought the play would be in the school lunchroom with the raised stage, but I was in error. At least for this night. The play would be held for the students of Eastside Elementary, and that would be done in the lunchroom and on stage.

On this night we were in the gymnasium. The front area was set up with sheets that provided a 'backstage' area, with an opening in the middle and a sheet behind the front two to block the view further back. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, and mistletoe hanging near the opening in the sheets.

There were 25 round tables set up, each with eight placesettings. There was also dinner being served, either Shepherd's Pie or a half chicken, and trimmings. Yes, we had to buy tickets, and proceeds were going to charity.

The actors would be in front, but also walking amongst us. My table was in the second row to the 'front' where the curtain was that hid the actors, and to the right side as one faced those curtains. With me was Laura, Paulina Patterson, Edward and Stephanie Steele, Selena Steele, and Todd Burke and Teresa Croyle.

At the table to our left were Sheriff Griswold, Cindy Ross and Callie Carrington, Cindy's mother Maggie, Cindy's sister Molly, Seth and Joanne Warner, and Carole's classmate Jameis's grandfather, at the express invitation of Our Sheriff.

Other parents, relatives, friends, and relatively important people in our Town & County also were attending, including Mayor Daniel Allgood and his lovely wife Melina, John Colby and Dagmar Schoen, and Inspector-General-elect James 'Curly' Goodwin and his wife. I went around the room greeting people, almost as if I were the host of the event.

Everyone went through the serving line and got dinner. As we sat and ate, the students in the play came around handing us programs. Carole served our table.

"Four By Four. A Carole Troy Mystery." Cindy read off the cover.

"When she submitted it to the teacher," I said, "it said 'A Carole Troy joint'. They changed that for obvious reasons."

"Good Lord, where do kids come up with that slang?" Edward said idly.

"Not in my household." I replied simply.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As we were finishing supper, Ms. Ramirez came out onto the 'stage'. "Welcome, everyone, to the Eastside Elementary Third Grade Christmas Play." Everyone applauded politely.

Ms. Ramirez: "Tonight, we have a special mystery play. There will be clues for you in the statements the characters make. We're going to have a charity challenge tonight: the table that solves the mystery, along with the tiebreakers, will be the winner, and a five hundred dollar donation to the charity of your choice will be made." More applause.

Ms. Ramirez continued: "Even you parents of our actors can participate, because even the children don't know the solution... except the author of the play. She wrote the story to try to fool her father, Commander Donald Troy, and he has agreed to recuse himself from participating." There were chuckles and some mild applause at that.

"Darn." Teresa whispered. "We woulda been a lock to win."

"And you still should be... Iron Wolf." I whispered back.

Ms. Ramirez said "So now let's begin our play. Ladies and gentlemen, Four By Four!" Everyone applauded as the lights dimmed down.

It began with nine people standing and talking, and drinking pre-dinner drinks, which were really healthy fruit juices. They would rotate around so that a few people were closer to the audience and could speak. They were all wired up with little microphones; ain't technology wonderful?

"I am Mr. Noah Boddy, your host." said the host, Mr. Noah Boddy, played by the becoming-overweight Billy. (Author's note: 'Four Square', Ch. 01, for more on some of the kids in the class.) "And this is Mr. Bartholomew Beck, who was once my business partner."

"I'm Aldrich Adams." said Sidney, Carole's nerdish-looking friend, who wore eyeglasses with very strong lenses. Carole had recruited him into her Aikido classes, saying he'd need them for when he'd be bullied as an older boy. I could not disagree with her assessment.

"I am Augusta Adams, Mr. Adams's lovely wife." said a girl named Amelia, in an imitation sweet Southern voice. Though I am biased towards my own daughter Carole, candor compels me to admit that Amelia was already the prettiest girl in the school by far, and would likely keep her father up nights when she became a teenager.

"And I am Mrs. Beck, Mr. Bartholomew Beck's wife." said Caroline, whose father worked at the Veterinary Center. "Do either of you play Contract Bridge?"

"Now, dear," said Mr. Beck, "now is not the time to be recruiting Bridge players into our league." To the others, he said "We play in a very competitive league, and my wife is always trying to invite new people in."

"That sounds very interesting." said Mrs. Adams. "I could probably never get my lazy husband off the couch to play, but perhaps you could be my... partner, Mr. Boddy?" Her look at him was very flirtatious. Yes, Amelia's dad was in for a lot of trouble when she hit her teenage years...

"That sounds lovely, Mrs. Adams." said Mr. Boddy, trying to remain professional, but looking warmly at Mrs. Adams.

"So you are an engineer, Mr. Adams?" said Mrs. Beck, seeing his displeasure at the way his wife and Mr. Boddy were looking at each other.

"Why yes, I am." said Adams. "I'm a Board-certified engineer after passing the qualifying test." Those were big words for third graders, but Sidney was one of the smart set.

The group rotated, and two more couples came up. "I'm Denny Dalton." said a black-haired boy that looked half-nerdish, half-athletic, whose real name was Nathan. "And this is my wife, Debbie." And the girl's real name was Debbie, too. Nice touch by Carole, to make it easier to remember names.

"Yes, I know you, Dalton." said the other boy, whose real name was Christopher. "Mrs. Dalton, I'm Charles Carlo, and this is my friend Ms. White."

"So nice to meet you." said Mrs. Dalton. "What do you do for a living, Mr. Carlo?"

"I'm an entrepreneur." said Mr. Carlo. "Actually, that's a nice way of saying I'm a professional gambler. I make book on sporting events."

"And then loses his profits at the poker table." said Ms. White, whose hair was a raven-black as Carole's, and whose real name was Madeleine. "And what do you do, Mr. Dalton."

"I was an Engineer with Mr. Adams," said Dalton, "but now I'm on my own."

"Someone you could learn from, Charles." Ms. White said as the two couples went their separate ways. "A man with a steady income."

"Don't be so sure." said Carlo.

A moment later, the butler, played by a boy named Alan, came out from the back and rang a bell. "Dinner is serrrrved." he said in the haughtiest voice he could muster. Everyone matriculated to backstage, and the lights dimmed to almost nothing...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Eerie bluish lights came on, meant to convey the outdoors and moonlight. Mr. Noah Boddy and Mr. Charles Carlo came out, 'smoking' candy cigars.

"I'm telling you, Mr. Boddy, I just need a little more time." said Carlo.

"You're into me for fifty large, Mr. Carlo." said Boddy, his hand in his pocket and sticking his belly out, looking like he was very much in control. "You've had time, and my patience has run out. I want my money."

"I'll get it for you. Every dime." said Carlo, sounding desperate. "Just give me a week. One week."

"Two days." said Boddy, sounding ominous. "That's all you've got left. And then you can talk to some serious people, people who can be very... persuasive." They exited the stage.

A moment later the Daltons came out, seemingly whispering as they looked at the moon. Then Aldrich Adams came out. "I say, have either of you seen my wife?"

"I saw her inside, talking to Mr. Boddy." said Mrs. Dalton. "They were discussing one of the dinner recipes, and went to the kitchen to ask the chef about it."

"That cad!" shouted Aldrich Adams. "If he thinks he can made advances towards my wife, I will teach him an unforgettable lesson!" Adams stalked off.

"Too late." said Denny Dalton.

"How so?" asked Mrs. Dalton with a wicked grin and a gleam in her eye.

"Because I saw Mr. Boddy kissing Mrs. Adams under the mistletoe in the kitchen." said Mr. Dalton with his own conspiratorial look. "They've been having an affair under Aldrich's nose for years." They went back 'inside', and the lights dimmed.

Suddenly a shot rang out!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The new scene was a comfortable sitting room, with a fake fireplace between two lounge chairs. Carole's classmate Tyson was sitting in a shirt, tie, slacks and a dressing gown, 'smoking' a Meerschaum pipe, and Carole's BFF Marie was in the other chair, dressed in a shirt, tie, slacks, and a white doctor's coat.

Holmes peered at Watson, then said "No, Watson, it doesn't matter. I still have no use for Astronomy in my line of work, nor do you in yours. So why are you reading that book on tachyons?"

"Because it is my mother's line of work." said Marie, pointing out to her mother Stephanie sitting at our table. We all chuckled.

"Your mother is a very smart lady." said Tyson. "I'll leave the Astronomy... and the Nobel Prizes... to her. And I believe we are about to get some work for ourselves."

"How do you deduce that, Holmes?" Watson asked.

"Why, I hear a full stampede on our stairs." said Holmes. "That can only mean that Lestrade has a case. Why hello, Inspector Lestrade!"

Carole and Jameis had walked in. Carole was in civilian clothes, and had a very familiar-looking badge on its chain around her neck. Jameis was wearing a British constable's uniform, with some additions. A red braided shoulder cord was around his right shoulder, going under his armpit. A row of ribbons of grays, purples, silvers, and dark oranges were over one jacket pocket, and some metal discs over the other.

I recognized the accoutrements; they were from my Army ROTC uniform when I had been in School. The red shoulder cord had denoted me as a member of Trigon, the OPFOR group. The ribbons were ROTC ribbons, and the metal devices were the unit crests of Wildcat ROTC. Carole must've raided the box I'd kept those things in, I deduced.

"Ah, Holmes, Watson, I'm glad to have caught you at home." said Lestrade. "There's been a murder at the Boddy residence, and I know how you like unusual cases, so Constable Gregson and I thought we'd stop by on the way out there."

"We wouldn't miss it." said Watson. "Holmes is so bored, he's talking about Astronomy papers!" As the audience chuckled, Holmes got up and changed out of his dressing gown and into a more suitable sports jacket... and the trademark deerstalker hat.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The scene opened with a stove and a food prep table, meant to show this was a kitchen. Mr. Boddy was lying on the floor, a red stain on his white shirt in the center of the chest. Four CSIs were milling about, making tape measurements and taking photographs. And yes, Carole had asked the TCPD Crime Lab to loan the class the materials to mark the crime scene, and she had received.

"The gun was found in the punch bowl." said a technician, played by a kid named Mark. "Standard Smith & Wesson revolver. We'll check for prints on the cartridges, but we're not hopeful of getting anything. There's some powder burns around the edges of the hole in Mr. Boddy's shirt, so it looks like he was shot from a close distance, right in the chest. He didn't have a chance."

"Okay, thank you." said Lestrade. She looked over to see Sherlock Holmes leaning over the body, inspecting it with his big magnifying glass. "Anything, Mr. Holmes?"

"Yezzz." said Holmes. "The upper part of his collar is wet, as is his hair and face. As if someone threw a drink in his face. Perhaps that was done to blind him, and then the gunplay started. There's also some red lipstick on the handkerchief in his pocket, and you can see that slight smudge on his lips where he didn't get all of it. With my vast knowledge of shades of lipstick, I can see this particular shade is 'Wildcat Red'."