Write a murder/mystery. Easy? All nine characters have been selected, named and described. The location has also been chosen. All we had to do was to integrate them into a murder/mystery story of approximately 2000 words. I really tried, but in an attempt to bring nine characters “to life” it took me 4800 words. Oh and we had a week to complete it! Hope you enjoy.
LEVISHAM LODGE
SATURDAY 14TH DECEMBER 2013
Kevin Parker awoke at 5am, seconds before the dolorous drone of his alarm. His room was shrouded in darkness and making his way to the window he pondered what sight would befall him after the unanticipated snow storm that swept through the Yorkshire Dales the evening before. Levisham Lodge was a small retreat nestled high in the Dales, currently closed to the public but this weekend making an exception for a friend of Mr Devant, a Dr Ernest Urquhurt and his colleagues, in what was described as a “team building” exercise. Kevin was incommoded and irritated he resented the sudden intrusion of the pompous Doctor and his entourage.
He looked out of the window and the silvery flakes still drifted down, glittering in the radiant glow of the winter moon. The thick blanket of snow was now visible and Kevin groaned inwardly, doubting that the superfluous guests would leave tomorrow as anticipated. The skeletal walnut brown trees swayed in the cold winter wind. Though the snow was beautiful he imagined it was cold and sharp. A crisp, white, pristine, shining covering that transformed the landscape making it appear magical.
The Lodge was eerily quiet, all of the guests he assumed still sleeping. He started his rounds and as he made his way downstairs he heard muffled sounds coming from the kitchen. He smiled to himself, no matter how early he rose, Florrie was always there, and he wondered at times if she ever actually slept. The Lodge was burrowed deep in the Dalby Forest and Kevin had worked/lived there for five years, he loved his job emphatically. It had recently undergone renovation without losing any of the true charm that Kevin held so dear. The Lodge boasted 20 sumptuous suites, spa, pool, sauna and gym. A restaurant which produced some of the finest food in Yorkshire and all of this huddled in acres and acres of breath-taking countryside, which was currently lying beneath a luxurious layer of settled snow.
Kevin entered the pool area, deep in the bowels of the lodge, the water slightly shimmering from the muted lighting beneath the surface. Something caught his eye. He approached the pool training his eyes on the dark shadow underneath the water, as his eyes adjusted to the subdued light he realised it was a body. Lying motionless at the bottom of the pool was Dr Charles Smythe, dead, with a single bullet wound to his head.
FRIDAY 13TH DECEMBER 2013
Dr Urquhurt blanched at the unnecessary and dangerous speed Moira Bennett was endeavouring the perilous icy roads. “Jesus Moira, slow down please, not much point attending team building if you’re going to annihilate us beforehand” he challenged. Moira turned and smiled at the handsome doctor beside her “I know what I am doing Ernest, and this monster can handle anything Mother Nature throws at us.” Dr Urquhurt signed, cursing himself for letting her drive his Audi A4. She continued oblivious to his hands gripping the seat so tight his knuckles were whitening. “I am so looking forward to this weekend Ernest, it’s just what we need” she gushed. He looked at the attractive woman sat beside him and realised he would be spending the weekend fending her off. “Moira, you do realise the team will be with us? We will have to be, well you know, discreet?” She responded with a smile.
As they climbed higher into the dales the snow began to fall heavily and thankfully Moira slowed to a moderate speed and his heart rate abated. Through the haze of the winter snow the Lodge came into view “we’re here” Moira exclaimed excitedly turning the Audi into the almost deserted car park “and we’re alive” she teased.
Dr Urquhurt climbed out of the Audi leaving Moira frantically fumbling with her smartphone, complaining about the lack of signal. What did she expect in the Yorkshire Dales? As he entered the generous mahogany doors of the Lodge he heard the sound of raised voices. Dr Charles Smythe was deep in a heated exchange with a petite young woman who was sporting a vibrant violet head of hair. He cleared his throat to make his presence known. “Ernest, you’re here” Dr Smythe gestured to the diminutive deluge of colour beside him “can we do this later Kylie” and instantly dismissing her he walked toward Dr Urquhurt with his hand extended. Kylie glared at him viciously before storming away.
“Who on earth was that Charles?” Dr Urquhurt said whilst taking his hand and shaking it.
“A blast from my murky past Ernest. Of all the retreats you had to pick you bring me face to face with my psychedelic ex. I am also assuming that she will not be the only hostile I will encounter this weekend. Why have you invited me here Ernest, after everything that has happened what the hell do you hope to achieve?”
“Building bridges Charles, that’s all, nothing sinister.” He noticed Charles hands were shaking. “How are you doing Charles? Your sponsor has told me that you have been sober for 6 months, that is quite an achievement and you and me, well we go back a long way.” Dr Urquhurt digested the man before him. His destructive lifestyle had aged him but he still had a full head of coal black hair, his long features and roman nose made his eyes appear too close together, a widow’s peak prominent on his creased brow. “You had me struck off Ernest.”
“You were stealing and selling drugs Charles, you left me no choice. Before Dr Smythe had chance to respond, a floundering flustered Moira fell through the door. “What the hell is he doing here?” Both of the men turned instantaneously to the seething statuesque. She was clutching two small weekend bags, wisps of blonde hair falling around her flushed features. “Ernest, please tell me you did not invite him here, after what he did, he could have ruined you. My god Charles have you no self-respect?” Her voice becoming more fervent with every word she spat. Before either doctor had chance to respond a tall imposing man joined them “I thought I heard voices, good evening, you must be Dr Ernest Urquhurt? My name is Kevin I am live in security and Mr Devant has asked me to ensure you all have a wonderful weekend” the men shook hands. “Now let me take you to your suites” immediately defusing the tension in the lobby of the lodge.
“Thank you Kevin, this is Moira Bennett and Dr Charles Smythe and we are just awaiting Dr Pierre Francois and his lovely wife Charlotte.” Kevin shook hands with them both absorbing the discernible rigidity between them. “Well you have been allocated the four finest suites of the lodge, Mr Devant’s orders, the rest are still undergoing renovation. You will have access to all of the facilities. The spa, pool, sauna and gym are all allocated beneath us and Kylie will be available for any additional treatments you require. The restaurant and bar are just through there and your suites are situated on the first floor. Dinner will be served at 8pm and breakfast at 9am. If you need anything at all, please do not hesitate to ask” Dr Urquhurt noted that although his words seemed sincere, his eyes reflected annoyance. After handing out the keys to the guests, Kevin mumbled an excuse and disappeared as covertly as he had appeared. With a toss of her head Moira marched toward the stairs. Dr Smythe turned to his old friend and said “as I predicted Ernest, hostile.”
Charlotte held the gilded invite between her fingers, looking at the gaudy garish gold lettering with distaste. “Pierre, this is shamefully showy, probably a foresight of this weekend. Remind me again why we have to do this?” Dr Pierre Francois, looked at her and laughed heartedly at her pouting face. “Charl we have to, stop your sulking it’s only two days.” he responded, ruffling her auburn hair. “Yes you say that now, but look at this snow, we could end up snowed in for god sake. Perish the thought that we remain holed up with the cantankerous Urquhurt and his audacious mistress Moira” she placed her hand over her amethyst eyes in docile disquietude. Dr Francois’ eyes danced with amusement and as he pulled on to the car park he winked “no turning back now.”
Kevin greeted the final guests noting how beautiful Charlotte Francois was. Indeed they were both an extremely striking couple. He warmed to them immediately, they seemed inconspicuous to their outward beauty and were friendly and warm, in comparison to the previous guests. Once he had them settled in their suite he went in search of the staff who were all congregated in the kitchen.
Arthur Ronseal, the Health & Safety Rep, was sat at the table, furiously studying various documents clutched in his podgy fingers. “Big mistake letting guests stay when the renovations are incomplete, an accident waiting to happen” he said to nobody in particular. His generous contours seemed moulded to the chair he sat in and Kevin noticed tiny beads of perspiration glistening off his bald head. Kevin didn’t like him, didn’t trust him, he was regimented and tyrannical to them all, even the guests. Arthur could find a potential hazard in everything and it exhausted them all listening to his ridiculous propositions and having to placate the guests when his dictatorial mania became uncomfortable. However he served with Mr Devant in the forces and he was not going anywhere much to Kevin’s displeasure.
Both Kylie and Florrie appeared troubled. They were ignoring Arthur and speaking to each other in hushed tones, it was not that that disturbed Kevin but normally upon his arrival Florrie would be fussing and pampering, yet she had not even noticed his arrival. “Everything okay ladies?” he asked and they both jumped, startled by his presence and Kevin felt suddenly unnerved. “Oh yes Kevin, everything is fine, Kylie is just not feeling too well, perhaps we could send her home?” Florrie questioned. Before Kevin even had chance to respond Arthur abruptly countered “absolutely not, we have little enough staff as it is, Kylie go and have yourself an early night and you will feel right as rain in the morning.” Kevin did not have the energy nor the inclination to argue and just nodded his head. Florrie jumped to her feet, smoothed down her uniform and declared “well I had better get started on dinner” Kevin could still sense the anxious aura emanating from her.
Dinner was a rather sombre affair. Everybody appeared to be on edge, apart from the Francois’ who thankfully infiltrated the tense silence with anecdotes and musings. Dr Francois and Dr Smythe had attended Medical School together and they shared stories of their youth and frivolity. They had not seen each other since graduation and both were dumbfounded by this remarkable coincidence. Kevin noticed that Dr Francois was the perfect dinner companion but there was something disingenuous about his exchange with Dr Smythe, an underlying current of antipathy in his gestures and retorts. Moira sat stony faced, occasionally glancing at Dr Urquhurt who was clearly amused by her disquiet. She excused herself from the table and disappeared in a cloud of cologne before dessert was even served. After the remainder of the party retired to their rooms Kevin helped Florrie clear away and prepare the tables for breakfast. Florrie was burdened, this he could surmise but he did not want to intrude and assumed she would confide when she was ready. He executed one last inspection of the lodge and he too retired to his room. When he finally settled for the night the snowfall had become heavy and dense.
SATURDAY 14TH DECEMBER 2013
Kevin stared horrified at the lifeless body of Dr Smythe, his eyes wide open gazing into nothingness. The barbarous bullet hole to his head a fatal crude gaping crevice. Adrenaline replaced shock and he rushed to the kitchen. Florrie was busying herself making his breakfast but she turned suddenly as he burst through the door. “Florrie, oh my god Florrie, Dr Smythe has been shot, he is dead. He is dead at the bottom of the pool.” The frying pan Florrie was holding fell from her grasp causing an almighty crash that reverberated around the room. “What? No? No Kevin, he can’t be?” Florrie ran from the kitchen and despite her years Kevin could not catch her as she dashed to the floor below. She reached the edge of the pool and keened at the sight of the dead Doctor, wailing like an injured animal, moans escaping from deep within her, before collapsing in Kevin’s arms.
Kevin poured a generous amount of brandy in a glass and pushed it toward Florrie. Together they sat in an uneasy silence, the occasional sniffle impeding the quiet. Gently Kevin took Florrie’s hand “Florrie, I have contacted the Police, they cannot get here until the snow clears, they have asked us not to touch anything, it is a crime scene. We must also get everybody up and bring them to the lounge until they arrive. Florrie somebody in this lodge shot and killed Dr Smythe, it wasn’t me and if it wasn’t you that leaves six people. Florrie looked at Kevin questioningly “what do you mean if it wasn’t me, of course it wasn’t me Kevin; how could you possibly think that?”
“I’m sorry Florrie of course I don’t, but your reaction, well of course it is shocking but….” his voice tailed. Florrie soothingly stroked Kevin’s cheek, took a deep breath and for the next two hours opened her heart and revealed her broken soul to her son, Kevin.
Kevin sat in a stunned silence, traumatised by Florrie’s revelations. Incongruously everything suddenly made sense to him. Her behaviour, her fretting, her mothering instincts towards him. She explained how she had fallen in love as a teenager with a Matthew Mason. They were smitten and adored each other. Matthew, she explained, was a wonderful boy with an incredible mind, compassionate, empathic and extraordinarily talented. One fateful night Matthew, coerced by his questionable companions, took his father’s car and lost control of the vehicle, veering into oncoming traffic. Matthew and his friends all survived with minor injuries, due to the robust construction of the vehicle. The car they hit was not so lucky and the husband, wife and small child were all killed instantly. Matthew was charged with manslaughter and sentenced to a youth offender’s institute. It was merely weeks later that Florrie discovered she was pregnant. They were both 15 years of age.
Florrie explained to Kevin that both she and Matthew came from privileged families and there was no possibility that her parents would allow her to keep her beloved son and he was adopted immediately following birth. The adoptive parents were wonderful people and sympathetic to Florrie and provided her with regular letters about Kevin’s progress. “I was asked if I wanted to meet you when I turned eighteen” said Kevin with tears in his eyes.
“Yes you was” whispered Florrie, “but you refused, you had every right to refuse Kevin and please do not feel you did anything wrong. None of us were going to force you.” She saw the regret in Kevin’s eyes “Kevin, you had a wonderful, contented upbringing and you are a credit to Mr & Mrs Parker. Working here, with you, for the last five years has been perfect and if you want to know why I didn’t tell you, it was because I was terrified, terrified of losing you again.” Kevin looked at Florrie, the anguish clearly visible and marvelled how this woman had existed all those years with only snatches of his life, standing in the shadows whilst he was loved and raised by strangers. “My father, what happened to Matthew, Florrie?” his voice fractured with emotion. She looked at him, her eyes swamped with tears “I never saw him again Kevin, I tried to find him but never could. He just disappeared. That is until yesterday when I came face to face with him again. Kevin, Charles Smythe is your father.
Florrie consoled the son she had never been allowed to hold. Together they mourned the loss of Charles knowing he would never know of the life he had created so many years ago. They talked in soft whispers, shedding the years and gleaning as much history of their lives and the early life of Charles. They talked until the first orange hued rays of sunrise kissed the still snow laden ground, these soft gleams that should have brought warmth to a new day only acted to solidify the reality of their loss. Together they left the kitchen and awoke the remaining occupants, gathering them purposely in the lounge area.
Kevin stood in front of the burning fire with his back to the guests. As he told them of his discovery the only sound infused within the room was the crackle and spit of the glowing logs. He turned to face them. Florrie, sitting to his left, hands in her lap, watching him, supporting him, nodded. Dr Urquhurt was the first to speak “Charles is dead? I don’t believe it. I was lead to believe this Lodge was secure. What is the point of having security when an intruder can just waltz in and shoot us?” he was gesturing wildly.
Kevin continued to scan their faces, their reactions and behaviours. “I can ensure you Dr Urquhurt this Lodge is secure. I have checked and re-checked. Nobody came in here last night and nobody left”.
“What are you saying Mr Parker?” Dr Urquhurt questioned.
“What I am saying is that whoever shot and killed Dr Smythe is sat in this room right now.”
Everybody blanched, looking suspiciously at the person next to them. “This is absurd” Dr Francois injected, “we are not murderers, is this some kind of imprudent prank Charles has concocted?” he fell back in his chair running a shaking hand through his hair.
“I wish it was Dr Francois but regrettably at some time between the hours of 11.00pm last night and 5.00am this morning Dr Charles Smythe was brutally murdered.
Nobody spoke.
“I have contacted the police and they have asked you all remain here in the lounge area. This Lodge is now a crime scene. You are not to leave, not to return to your rooms and you are not permitted to speak to anybody beyond these walls.”
Kylie and Charlotte began to weep softly. Kevin continued.
“I appreciate Dr Smythe was not exactly popular amongst you, but murder?”
“I hated him, I cannot lie. Am I sorry he is dead? No. But did I kill him? Absolutely not.” Everyone turned, stunned, at Moira’s outburst. “He almost destroyed you Ernest, he has been on self-destruct ever since. What is to say he has not shot himself?”
“Moira” Dr Urquhurt exclaimed.
“Why do you hate him so much Moira?” Kevin asked. “I can see the venom in your eyes and hear it dripping from your lips” Now I am no expert but I am sure that a Receptionist/Admin position will not attract such a healthy salary, yet your wardrobe, luggage and accessories display extreme wealth.” Kevin probed.
“That is none of your business” she responded.
“Well if you feel unable to share it with room, let me give you my thoughts. I am aware Dr Smythe was struck off due to procuring and selling drugs from your surgery. I am also aware that you brought it to the attention of Dr Urquhurt. What happened Moira? Did Charles get greedy and shut you out, after all it was your idea wasn’t it? Easy money. Funding for Dr Smythe’s addictions and a designer wardrobe for you. You can be very persuasive Moira can’t you, I am sure it was not long before he fell under your spell and when he became disposable you sold him out to Dr Ernest Urquhart. Tell me, how long did it take you to replace Charles with Ernest?”
Moira’s face was burning, as was her indignation “how dare you” she spat.
“Moira, your bed was not slept in last night. Tell me where did you sleep?” Moira jumped to her feet “I don’t have to sit and listen to this, it is absolutely irrelevant where I slept and who I slept with”
“Sit down Moira” commanded Dr Urquhurt.
Turning to Dr Urquhurt, Kevin addressed him “there is no fool like an old fool, do you really think this woman is interested in you? You’re on your third marriage, can you truly afford another divorce settlement?” he let the question linger for a few seconds. Dr Urquhurt paled but did not respond.
“Kylie” at the sound of her name she jumped, like a frightened animal, she peered through her lavender fringe at Kevin terrified. “I had no idea you were married to Dr Smythe, I also had no idea that you had a son with him. I am ashamed to say I never knew your surname. Florrie has told me about your altercation this morning with Dr Smythe and whilst I cannot imagine that a tiny thing like you could ever commit such an atrocity, I have to consider that Dr Smythe hurt you badly. I know your abhorrence for drugs and to find out your husband not only stole them, but sold them on, must have been crushing.” Kylie began to weep, nodding, but not taking her eyes off Kevin.
“Finally, Dr and Mrs Francois. I have to say that I took to you both immediately. You really are an arresting charismatic couple. However something just didn’t sit right with me. You are undoubtedly close and love each other greatly. Your fondness is ever apparent, however your gestures and exchanges whilst encompassing love, do not evoke intimacy. Dr Francois and Charlotte you are not sweethearts, you are siblings.”
Dr Francois bowed his head, wrapping his arms around his little sister as she again began to weep.
Kevin continued “Dr Francois when you were a teenager you came to England from France to visit your mother’s sister who lived in London. There was your mama and papa and your little twin sisters Charlotte and Eva. On the first night Eva had a temperature and your parents decided to take her to the local hospital, not far from your Aunt’s house. Everything was fine, it was just a virus, but on their way home they were hit by another motorist, a juvenile, your family were killed instantly and despite incredible time and effort you never knew who killed your parents, the records were sealed, it was not until much later that you were to discover that your old college buddy, Charles Smythe, was the driver of that car. But how did you discover this?”
The room was deadly silent.
Dr Francois pointed to Dr Urquhurt “he told me.” Charlotte gasped, and only a small sound escaped her lips “Eva.”
“After my parents were killed, Charl and I lived with our Aunt in London. We grew up there, attended school and then university. We are close, we share the burden of grief, in losing our family at such a young age. We couldn’t bear to be separated so when I was contacted by Ernest for the position replacing Charles, it was conditional upon Charlotte coming with me, as my wife. Charles and I had attended college together and I had assumed he had recommended me for the position. It was after I had been there for several months that Ernest told me who Charles really was.”
Kevin knelt down before Dr Francois “and how did that make you feel, knowing that all those years studying, striving, partying making plans was spent with the man who destroyed your lives”.
Dr Francois looked at Kevin “I wanted to kill him, I wanted to strangle the life out of him, the way he had strangled the life out of us.”
Kevin stood back up and surveyed the room. “Everybody in this room apart from Arthur, knew Dr Smythe and had a motive to kill Dr Smythe. But sometimes you have to look at the unexpected. Arthur, you were in the forces?”
Arthur looked up concerned “yes, you know I was.”
“Remind me, why did you leave?” he pushed.
“I was dishonourably discharged, but I do not see what relevance this has on the present situation” Arthur responded.
“I will decide what ‘relevance’ it has. You once told me that the Army dealt with you appallingly, your Sergeant, Mr Devant, fought your dishonourable discharge but was unsuccessful, hence why you were offered the position here indefinitely.”
“Yes, that is true Kevin, it was Mr Devant who asked me here and it is an honour to serve him again”. Arthur declared defiantly.
“Arthur you are the Health and Safety Representative, you’re not fighting a war” Florrie suddenly added.
“Interesting choice of words Florrie” said Kevin. “You see the gunshot to Dr Smythe’s head was execution style, you can deduce by the shape of the wound that whoever shot him stood above him. I would speculate that Dr Smythe was on his knees. It was a clean, crisp and efficient kill. One could argue it was a military kill. However you have no grudge against Dr Smythe and before yesterday you had never seen him before, your paths have never crossed, so why Arthur? The only reason you would kill Dr Smythe Arthur, is if you were ordered to.”
“This is absolutely preposterous, ordered by who?” Arthur challenged.
“Well by the only person who you would ever take orders from and in your own words ‘it is an honour to serve him again’ Mr Devant.”
“Why on earth would Mr Devant order Arthur to kill Charles” Dr Francois asked, suddenly finding his voice.
Kevin turned to Dr Francois “why indeed? I have no doubt if we were to return to your room Dr Francois, we would find the murder weapon, discreetly hidden and wiped clean. It did not go unnoticed Arthur that although Florrie came to your room first, you were the last to arrive. You have contributed nothing, yet you’re usually so fanatically fastidious and meticulous in your approach. A man has been murdered and you barely raise an eyebrow. Yet you will complete a twelve page risk assessment on how to use a tin opener.” his voice was rising and Florrie touched his arm.
“Somebody is trying to frame me?” hissed Dr Francois.
Kevin took a deep breath and turned to Dr Urquhurt “you know Mr Devant made that order don’t you Dr Urquhurt?”
“I have absolutely no idea what…….”
“And the reason you know this is because you, Dr Urquhurt, are Mr Devant. You were Arthur’s Sergeant in the Army and you are the proud owner of Levisham Lodge. Three marriages and a rapacious mistress does not come cheap, does it Dr Urquhurt? When Dr Smythe was struck off, it hit your surgery hard, so much so, it wouldn’t surprise me if you have been running it at a loss. What with your lavish lifestyle and the payments you have to make to Dr Smythe, which you are obligated to make as he still owns half the surgery, the pressure was mounting. You wanted to sell but he wouldn’t. He lived in hope that he could turn his life around and return to what he loved. However should anything happen to him, as you were joint owners, then the surgery becomes yours, to do with what you wish, which I envisage would be to sell it on as quickly as possible.”
“Is this true Ernest?” questioned Moira.
“Of course it is true. I did wonder why the renovations had come to a standstill, you have exhausted your funds haven’t you? Desperate people do despicable things. I could tell by your demeanour Dr Urquhurt that you were ex-military. Then it occurred to me, there was something familiar about you. We had never met but we have spoken haven’t we Mr Devant? Many times. But instead of doing your own dirty work, you call upon your most trusted and loyal comrade, Arthur Ronseal. You have been living a double life and both Charles and Arthur are now the casualties of your deceit.”
The distant sound of sirens filtered into the room but nobody spoke.
Hayley Mars
