The second murder was very risky. It had limited the probable murderers to either Skinner or Chaz, with Colin and Hannah as outside bets (if either of them were ninjas). That took a lot of pressure off of the rest of the survivors – nobody was defending themselves, only accusing one of them. Skinner? I didn’t think so. Chaz? Let’s find out.
We spent the afternoon cruising between vineyards in the Espace, trying amazing wines from the region. I kept a close-ish eye on Chaz, sitting next to her in the car and sticking close by during the tastings. “Are you trying to get a piece of Chaz?” asked Vinny, ever perceptive. I was, to an extent, but I was rather enjoying getting to know her too. And was falling more and more towards the idea that she was the murderer.
Our wine tour ended at Ventenac, the cellar for the collective made up of the former employees of the family that had once owned the chateau. By now, Skinner and I had consumed several glasses of wine. We didn’t swill and fling away our dregs, you see. We just had the whole thing. Dominic, who had stayed behind, was setting up the evening’s entertainment around the rough patch on the second level of the terraced garden: a barbecue, bonfire and cabaret.
Great acts. Hannah sang. The Lovely Jane and the Lovely Colin sang. Jamie recited a poem. Vinny played guitar. Julia dressed up and read a poem. Dominic sang a Lovely Song for the Lovely Jane and the Lovely Colin, inspired by their approaching wedding. The Lovely Jane danced with Poi. Skinner, Vinny and I played Mallet’s Mallet, using crème fraiche instead of a mallet. I lost. Splat! As things drew to a close, we all sang together. Dom adapted ‘I Love Rock and Roll’ to be ‘I Love this Chateau.’ Jane had written new words to ‘Let It Be,’ a sweet and slushy end to a lovely evening. Even Skinner and I, easily the most pissed people there, couldn’t ruin it with our shambolic hosting.
Trial time: Chaz? Skinner? It didn’t take long. Of seven survivors, three had voted Chaz, with two voting Skinner. The Lovely Jane hadn’t chosen. My vote. I looked up. It was Chaz, I thought. I voted: “Skinner.” Over to you, the Lovely Jane. She chose Chaz. And so we hung her.
Showing posts with label murder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label murder. Show all posts
Thursday, 29 October 2009
“Vinny. Without a doubt. Definitely Vinny.”
If there’s a pool, then I’m going to use it, however cold it might be. That’s me: British attitude; Hawaiian shorts; dumber than a bag of hammers. What chemical, I wondered as my limbs numbed and stiffened, keeps this water from freezing solid: surely it’s cold enough. Broken, I shivered and dripped back up the terraces for a tea.
Dominic had been murdered in his bedroom with a candlestick between the hours of eight and nine. So it goes. I left my room and started my fool’s journey towards hypothermia at around ten to nine, so I was very much in the frame. Any of the four who made up the couples might have slipped out, I suppose, but they were all vouching for their partners. Vinny, Skinner and Charlene were all alone in their respective bedrooms, so all had the opportunity. Jamie was promoted to Inspector for being too good at the game, so it definitely wasn’t him. That aside, it could have been anybody.
The final CDWM team scooted to the hypermarche, and I lounged on the patio, drying out my clean clothes, reading The Economist and drinking good coffee with Colin. The warm sun on my neck felt a million miles from the prickling cold of the pool.
Beer o’clock came around quickly enough, and the shoppers returned with cheese and baguettes. “My poo smelled like cheese,” said Tom, “and that’s when I thought that I might be eating too much cheese.” Fine dining makes for fine living, I think.
I asked Chaz to join me on the upper balcony, rather than meet Colin and Jane in the cave. Chaz came up with virtually the same alibi as Hannah had yesterday, so I wanted to probe her about the murder. Skinner came out of the kitchen as we were talking.
“DTR, who would you murder if it was you?”
“I would definitely kill Vinny. You?”
“Vinny. Without a doubt. Definitely Vinny.”
The three of us retired into the dining room, and talked about a particular way to play the game of murder as the murderer. Massacre style. The more murders committed, the more chance there is of being rumbled. A one-off, multi-victim killing spree is a high-risk approach. At the same time, it’s high-reward: the dead don’t participate in the investigation, so the more people killed, the fewer to convince of your innocence.
Based on that premise, the smallest possible jury is the best. Sadly though, killing absolutely everybody else is out – obviously the last man standing is the killer – as is killing all but one person – the innocent would know it wasn’t them. In fact, at least three people are needed to have a two-on-one vote. So, playing massacre style, the murderer would kill everybody except themselves and two others. At the investigation stage, you need to convince one of the two others that it wasn’t you, and then side with them in accusing the other person. Simple enough.
Jamie was within earshot, by the study window in the drawing room. Hannah was in the bath. Vinny was reading the paper in the kitchen. Colin and Jane were in the cave, Tom was fishing, and Dom was dead.
Chaz popped into the kitchen to ditch an apple core. She came back and we discussed another approach to being the murderer, the shopkeeper approach. This involves waiting in a room with a weapon, and killing whoever comes into ‘the murder shop’ next. Skinner went to collect a few more beers from the kitchen. We started to explore the shopkeeper approach a little more, thinking about the…
“MURDER! MURDER!”
Vinny was dead! So it goes. Skinner had found him strangled to death in the kitchen. The look I exchanged with Skinner was like a telekinetic high five.
Dominic had been murdered in his bedroom with a candlestick between the hours of eight and nine. So it goes. I left my room and started my fool’s journey towards hypothermia at around ten to nine, so I was very much in the frame. Any of the four who made up the couples might have slipped out, I suppose, but they were all vouching for their partners. Vinny, Skinner and Charlene were all alone in their respective bedrooms, so all had the opportunity. Jamie was promoted to Inspector for being too good at the game, so it definitely wasn’t him. That aside, it could have been anybody.
The final CDWM team scooted to the hypermarche, and I lounged on the patio, drying out my clean clothes, reading The Economist and drinking good coffee with Colin. The warm sun on my neck felt a million miles from the prickling cold of the pool.
Beer o’clock came around quickly enough, and the shoppers returned with cheese and baguettes. “My poo smelled like cheese,” said Tom, “and that’s when I thought that I might be eating too much cheese.” Fine dining makes for fine living, I think.
I asked Chaz to join me on the upper balcony, rather than meet Colin and Jane in the cave. Chaz came up with virtually the same alibi as Hannah had yesterday, so I wanted to probe her about the murder. Skinner came out of the kitchen as we were talking.
“DTR, who would you murder if it was you?”
“I would definitely kill Vinny. You?”
“Vinny. Without a doubt. Definitely Vinny.”
The three of us retired into the dining room, and talked about a particular way to play the game of murder as the murderer. Massacre style. The more murders committed, the more chance there is of being rumbled. A one-off, multi-victim killing spree is a high-risk approach. At the same time, it’s high-reward: the dead don’t participate in the investigation, so the more people killed, the fewer to convince of your innocence.
Based on that premise, the smallest possible jury is the best. Sadly though, killing absolutely everybody else is out – obviously the last man standing is the killer – as is killing all but one person – the innocent would know it wasn’t them. In fact, at least three people are needed to have a two-on-one vote. So, playing massacre style, the murderer would kill everybody except themselves and two others. At the investigation stage, you need to convince one of the two others that it wasn’t you, and then side with them in accusing the other person. Simple enough.
Jamie was within earshot, by the study window in the drawing room. Hannah was in the bath. Vinny was reading the paper in the kitchen. Colin and Jane were in the cave, Tom was fishing, and Dom was dead.
Chaz popped into the kitchen to ditch an apple core. She came back and we discussed another approach to being the murderer, the shopkeeper approach. This involves waiting in a room with a weapon, and killing whoever comes into ‘the murder shop’ next. Skinner went to collect a few more beers from the kitchen. We started to explore the shopkeeper approach a little more, thinking about the…
“MURDER! MURDER!”
Vinny was dead! So it goes. Skinner had found him strangled to death in the kitchen. The look I exchanged with Skinner was like a telekinetic high five.
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Murder!
"MURDER! There's been a murder!"
The Lovely Jane's voice echoed down the stairs from the middle floor landing. I dashed up from the kitchen. Charlene had been butchered* in her bed between the hours of three and four in the morning. So it goes. A silent figure had come into her room and stabbed her to death. Hannah or the Lovely Jane had found her bloodied corpse. So it starts!
*Chaz had woken up to find a note and a knife on the bedside table. She watched the whole investigation 'as a ghost.'
Who was where at the time of the murder?
Nobody had a decent alibi. Vinny was alone. Jamie was alone. The beautiful symbiosis of coupledom means that Tom could have slipped out of bed without disturbing Hannah, and her him, and likewise for The Lovelies. All of the late drinkers slipped out to use the toilet at least once. On grounds of opportunity, nobody should have been beyond suspicion. Such rational thought, however, was far beyond the groupthink of the hivemind.
What do I remember? Nothing incriminating. I was last to bed, as ever. Skinner went up before Dom and I, who shared a last Drum Gold moment on the balcony before bed. It could have been Skinner, in that gap. It could have been Dom, who left me for another five minutes as I looked at the mist curling in the valley. It could have been me. But I didn't think it was any of us. The three of us talked about spectacular ways to commit a murder over the port, and I doubted that Dom or Skinner would then follow that with such a prosaic MO. Unless it was a colossal bluff, of course.
Dom and Skinner and I more or less put forward the same opinion - it could have been any of us, but we thought it probably wasn't. Was one of us duping the others?
Tom had vanished first thing in the morning, to go fishing. Was he getting himself as far away as possible from the body to put himself out of the frame?
Vinny took a pad, and started to draw out a chart of who was where at what time. Was he blustering to take the heat off himself?
The Lovelies, The Lovely Colin and The Lovely Jane, were oddly bickersome that morning. They seemed intent on stitching each other up. What had gotten one of them so riled?
Hannah had gotten up in the night and come down to the kitchen for a glass of water, and then refused to enter it because she remembered there was a dog. "I'm scared of dogs," she said, "and I don't drink bathroom water." Oh, really... how convenient.
Jamie was quiet. He'd been quiet all week. Thoughtful. He's a buddhist these days, nothing out of the ordinary there.
Discussions continued into the afternoon, and into the evening. Hannah's tale of an aborted attempt to get up in the night wasn't holding much water with anybody. Most of what she'd said smelt strongly of bullshit. Getting up for a drink when you have a tap in your room? Because you don't like bathroom water? Really? making all that effort to get out of bed, then turning back empty handed out of fear of the most placid dog I've ever met? Hmmmmm...
Skinner's comatose hangover led Vin to declare Skinner was out of the picture. I was in the clear too - "DTR wouldn't go into a girl's bedroom in the middle of the night with a massive knife unless he knew that girl quite well, and he only met Chaz on Monday. It's not him."
There was more from the great detective. "Because I was sharing a room with DTR, and because Jamie was sharing with Dom, and because there was no way we'd be able to predict how long the bottle of port would last, neither Jamie nor I could have planned to wake up in the night and kill Chaz. We couldn't risk setting an alarm in case it woke up our roommate.
"Neither Colin nor the Lovely Jane remember their partner getting out of bed in the night. Tom, however, does remember Hannah getting out of bed. Hannah's story isn't convincing. In fact, it keeps changing. For a teacher, who speaks in front of people all day, she's really struggling to look anybody in the eye. I think it's Hannah."
Everybody said who they thought it was at the penultimate stage, and why. Most people went with Hannah, but I suddenly thought it was Tom, based on what Hannah had said about how his occasional lies present themselves. There were a couple of other curveball ideas, but nothing substantial. It came to the vote. I voted Dom. Skinner voted Jamie. In the haze of wine, looking back, it seemed that everybody else voted Hannah. So she was hung.
"Will the real murderer please stand up?"
Chairs moved. An arm stretched out. A hand pressed on the table. Everybody was looking around at everybody else. This is the best part of the game by miles. Who was it?
Jamie.
"I decided to kill Chaz in the middle of the night. I knew that an alarm would wake up Dom, so I conducted a series of tests. I set my watch alarm to go off, put it under my pillow, and listened from Dom's bed. It was too loud, so I put it inside a sock and tested it, again listening from Dom's bed. Still too loud, so I used another sock. Much better - barely audible from Dom's bed, but loud enough for me - after all it was under my pillow. I took the knife to bed with me, and even wrote the note in advance. I woke up with the alarm, and saw Dom's bed empty..."
"Because I was drinking port downstairs with DTR and Skinner."
"...yes, and so I went into Chaz's room. And the rest is violent, bloody history."
Such dedication to the cause is commendable. I think Jamie deserved to win. Chaz - who'd been silent since her death - asked if we could draw cards again. And why not?
The Lovely Jane's voice echoed down the stairs from the middle floor landing. I dashed up from the kitchen. Charlene had been butchered* in her bed between the hours of three and four in the morning. So it goes. A silent figure had come into her room and stabbed her to death. Hannah or the Lovely Jane had found her bloodied corpse. So it starts!
*Chaz had woken up to find a note and a knife on the bedside table. She watched the whole investigation 'as a ghost.'
Who was where at the time of the murder?
- Charlene was in her bed on the middle floor.
- Hannah and Tom were staying in an adjacent room, to the west.
- The Lovely Jane and the Lovely Colin were also staying in an adjacent room, to the east.
- Vin was alone in the room he normally shared with me on the top floor.
- Jamie was also alone in a room on the top floor, a room that he normally shared with his brother Dom.
- I was in the drawing room drinking port with Dom and Skinner.
Nobody had a decent alibi. Vinny was alone. Jamie was alone. The beautiful symbiosis of coupledom means that Tom could have slipped out of bed without disturbing Hannah, and her him, and likewise for The Lovelies. All of the late drinkers slipped out to use the toilet at least once. On grounds of opportunity, nobody should have been beyond suspicion. Such rational thought, however, was far beyond the groupthink of the hivemind.
What do I remember? Nothing incriminating. I was last to bed, as ever. Skinner went up before Dom and I, who shared a last Drum Gold moment on the balcony before bed. It could have been Skinner, in that gap. It could have been Dom, who left me for another five minutes as I looked at the mist curling in the valley. It could have been me. But I didn't think it was any of us. The three of us talked about spectacular ways to commit a murder over the port, and I doubted that Dom or Skinner would then follow that with such a prosaic MO. Unless it was a colossal bluff, of course.
Dom and Skinner and I more or less put forward the same opinion - it could have been any of us, but we thought it probably wasn't. Was one of us duping the others?
Tom had vanished first thing in the morning, to go fishing. Was he getting himself as far away as possible from the body to put himself out of the frame?
Vinny took a pad, and started to draw out a chart of who was where at what time. Was he blustering to take the heat off himself?
The Lovelies, The Lovely Colin and The Lovely Jane, were oddly bickersome that morning. They seemed intent on stitching each other up. What had gotten one of them so riled?
Hannah had gotten up in the night and come down to the kitchen for a glass of water, and then refused to enter it because she remembered there was a dog. "I'm scared of dogs," she said, "and I don't drink bathroom water." Oh, really... how convenient.
Jamie was quiet. He'd been quiet all week. Thoughtful. He's a buddhist these days, nothing out of the ordinary there.
Discussions continued into the afternoon, and into the evening. Hannah's tale of an aborted attempt to get up in the night wasn't holding much water with anybody. Most of what she'd said smelt strongly of bullshit. Getting up for a drink when you have a tap in your room? Because you don't like bathroom water? Really? making all that effort to get out of bed, then turning back empty handed out of fear of the most placid dog I've ever met? Hmmmmm...
Skinner's comatose hangover led Vin to declare Skinner was out of the picture. I was in the clear too - "DTR wouldn't go into a girl's bedroom in the middle of the night with a massive knife unless he knew that girl quite well, and he only met Chaz on Monday. It's not him."
There was more from the great detective. "Because I was sharing a room with DTR, and because Jamie was sharing with Dom, and because there was no way we'd be able to predict how long the bottle of port would last, neither Jamie nor I could have planned to wake up in the night and kill Chaz. We couldn't risk setting an alarm in case it woke up our roommate.
"Neither Colin nor the Lovely Jane remember their partner getting out of bed in the night. Tom, however, does remember Hannah getting out of bed. Hannah's story isn't convincing. In fact, it keeps changing. For a teacher, who speaks in front of people all day, she's really struggling to look anybody in the eye. I think it's Hannah."
Everybody said who they thought it was at the penultimate stage, and why. Most people went with Hannah, but I suddenly thought it was Tom, based on what Hannah had said about how his occasional lies present themselves. There were a couple of other curveball ideas, but nothing substantial. It came to the vote. I voted Dom. Skinner voted Jamie. In the haze of wine, looking back, it seemed that everybody else voted Hannah. So she was hung.
"Will the real murderer please stand up?"
Chairs moved. An arm stretched out. A hand pressed on the table. Everybody was looking around at everybody else. This is the best part of the game by miles. Who was it?
Jamie.
"I decided to kill Chaz in the middle of the night. I knew that an alarm would wake up Dom, so I conducted a series of tests. I set my watch alarm to go off, put it under my pillow, and listened from Dom's bed. It was too loud, so I put it inside a sock and tested it, again listening from Dom's bed. Still too loud, so I used another sock. Much better - barely audible from Dom's bed, but loud enough for me - after all it was under my pillow. I took the knife to bed with me, and even wrote the note in advance. I woke up with the alarm, and saw Dom's bed empty..."
"Because I was drinking port downstairs with DTR and Skinner."
"...yes, and so I went into Chaz's room. And the rest is violent, bloody history."
Such dedication to the cause is commendable. I think Jamie deserved to win. Chaz - who'd been silent since her death - asked if we could draw cards again. And why not?
Tuesday, 27 October 2009
Killing Time
The quiz had kept us up late - we'd waited because of CDWM and we'd waited for Tom to finish a job application - so there weren't many heads over the parapet first thing. It was my turn to do bread and breakfast, so I went to the boulangerie on my own to collect what was needed. I managed to explain, in french, that I was feeling a little tired because of all the wine. The baker smiled and titled her head at me. "Are you staying in the chateau?" she asked. I nodded. She nodded, knowingly.
Breakfast became brunch became lunch as more people rose and the day warmed. Vinny, Skinner, Tom, Hannah and I filled a box with beers, and went down to the river to fish. I wasn't bothered about fishing, really, but I was very interested in the box of beers. Insecure Dave and Dom followed on. We found a sandy cutting through the reeds that led down to a sunny spot by the river. I shudder to think of what the channel we were fishing in was designed for. It certainly wasn't natural. Vin soon tired of fishing, and Skinner seemed restless too, so we went back to Ventenac. We took a different route through the vineyards, and were set upon by score of flying ants. "France is a load of shit!" said Skinner, "this is horrible."
The team re-convened on the small balcony, and we drew cards for murder.
"We are about to play a game of murder, most horrid." Murder is a game. It's a little bit like mafia,, a little bit like wink murder, and a little bit like something else. This is how it works: a murderer is chosen at random and in secret, using playing cards. The murderer has a killing period, perhaps 24 hours from the drawing of the cards. In that time they must commit at least one murder. A murder is committed by the murderer presenting their victim with (semi-)realistic means to carry out a real murder. The victim is now dead in the context of the game, and must lie still until discovered (within reason). The only information that the dead can give to the living is an 'autopsy report' detailing how they were killed and the approximate time of death. The other players conduct informal investigations amongst themselves, based on whatever factors they think are important. At the end of the killing period, there is a trial, and all the players cast a vote to say who they think is the murderer, and therefore who they think ought to be hanged. After the hanging, the real murderer reveals themselves. If the murderer gets away with the murder, they win. If the right person is hanged, the others win.
We had drawn cards, and the killing period had began. The game was on.
Breakfast became brunch became lunch as more people rose and the day warmed. Vinny, Skinner, Tom, Hannah and I filled a box with beers, and went down to the river to fish. I wasn't bothered about fishing, really, but I was very interested in the box of beers. Insecure Dave and Dom followed on. We found a sandy cutting through the reeds that led down to a sunny spot by the river. I shudder to think of what the channel we were fishing in was designed for. It certainly wasn't natural. Vin soon tired of fishing, and Skinner seemed restless too, so we went back to Ventenac. We took a different route through the vineyards, and were set upon by score of flying ants. "France is a load of shit!" said Skinner, "this is horrible."
The team re-convened on the small balcony, and we drew cards for murder.
"We are about to play a game of murder, most horrid." Murder is a game. It's a little bit like mafia,, a little bit like wink murder, and a little bit like something else. This is how it works: a murderer is chosen at random and in secret, using playing cards. The murderer has a killing period, perhaps 24 hours from the drawing of the cards. In that time they must commit at least one murder. A murder is committed by the murderer presenting their victim with (semi-)realistic means to carry out a real murder. The victim is now dead in the context of the game, and must lie still until discovered (within reason). The only information that the dead can give to the living is an 'autopsy report' detailing how they were killed and the approximate time of death. The other players conduct informal investigations amongst themselves, based on whatever factors they think are important. At the end of the killing period, there is a trial, and all the players cast a vote to say who they think is the murderer, and therefore who they think ought to be hanged. After the hanging, the real murderer reveals themselves. If the murderer gets away with the murder, they win. If the right person is hanged, the others win.
We had drawn cards, and the killing period had began. The game was on.
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