by Ken P Duddle
Ever said you wished you were a fly on the wall? Here's someone who's wish came true.
The Fly On The Wall
The fly watched in anticipation as arch-detective Lionel Broadsword gathered the four suspects into the drawing room.
It may seem odd that a fly could have the perception to take in the proceedings, but this was no ordinary fly. It was in fact a reincarnation of Sir Godfrey Mayfield, recently deceased with the help of one of four suspects who were seated in the drawing room at the request of the aforementioned Broadsword.
Broadsword stood with two fingers in a double-breasted waistcoat. Leaning against a stone fireplace, he turned to a smartly dressed woman in her thirties.
The fly settled on a vase to watch.
"Now Lady Mayfield I believe your marriage with Sir Godfrey was not all that it appeared, in fact you would have left if it it hadn't meant that you would be disinherited." He paused as he stroked a long thin moustache. "I also know that you had taken on a lover, a Mr. Bert Higgins and it seems you were being pressured to leave Sir Godfrey."
The fly took off and landed on the light.
“You bitch you two-timing bitch," he raged. "How long has this been going on Maud?"
"Now sir," Broadsword said directing to a casually dressed young man, "Richard Marcus, well respected family man, Sir Godfrey's favourite nephew and a compulsive gambler."
Richard Marcus opened his mouth to speak but the detective put his hand up to silence him and continued.
"Your uncle lent you thousands of pounds only to see it fluttered away at the race-track. The last straw was when a horse that you said would walk it, did. Your uncle threatened to cut you out of his will unless you sought help.
“You young rascal” The fly shouted. “After all I did for you.”
Detective Broadsword took a long pipe from his top pocket.
Taking a tin from inside his coat he carefully pressed a quantity of tobacco into the bowl.
"Jack Barclay." he said as he lit the pipe with a silver cigarette lighter. Jack Barclay a be-speckled man in his late fifties looked up as Broadsword spoke.
"Here we have the good old family lawyer, business partner and most importantly an embezzler."
Broadsword puffed on his pipe blowing rings of smoke into the atmosphere.
The fly coughed. No-one heard.
"Sir Godfrey knew there were some discrepancies in the business and was about to launch an investigation. Even though you were not named in the will the business would pass to you in the event of Sir Godfrey's death. That is of course if your thieving was not found out."
"I never trusted you, you cad." Shouted the fly landing on a curtain.
The last person to face Lionel Broadsword's remarks was a good looking woman in her twenties.
"Mary Ryan, adviser to Sir Godfrey on antiques and part-time lover. In the past you sold several items to him of which none were genuine. The last of these being a pair of pistols, one being a fake, and it was in fact one of these pistols that was used to commit this dastardly deed."
"I did know that, I was there." The fly bellowed as he landed on in a sugar bowl.
Broadsword picked up a pile of papers that were on a coffee table.
"I have here," he spoke in a stern voice, his eyes piercing into the four suspects, "I have here evidence that will put one of you away for a very long time
"Come on, stop wasting time." Shouted the fly..
The detective rolled the papers into a tube. He addressed each of the suspects in turn, pointing and then hitting an open hand as he did.
"I don't know if it was fate or conspiracy that brought one or more of you together on that fateful night, but you all had motive and opportunity, Lady Mayfield adulterous," slap, "Richard Marcus compulsive gambler, " slap, "Jack Barclay embezzler," slap, "and finally Mary Ryan fraudster," slap. I have now proof that the killer is," he raised his arm to point.
"Yes, yes" The fly screamed as he settled on a wall.
"The killer is........BLAST that dammed fly."
The fly never heard.