Tag Archives: Whodunnit

Arts, Drama

Whodunnit: The Missing Murderer

LATERAL THINKING DRAMA

Issue No. 8 in the Whodunnit crime series. Tap into your inner detective by explaining the thinking of Inspector Parnacki in this case of the Missing Murderer?

INSPECTOR Parnacki strolled around the large parking area, puffing on his pipe. The object of his annoyance, a small, tattered truck, was parked towards the middle of the parking space.

. Previously Whodunnit: The Captive

“It doesn’t make sense, Inspector.” Damon Olivers was the night clerk from a small grocery that looked onto the parking lot.

Keeping his irritation well disguised, Parnacki turned back to the man. “You’re sure about the order of events?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Talk me through it one more time, would you?”

Olivers nodded. “I was doing the evening sweep and general tidy-up. It’s usually quiet at this time, so that’s when I get to sweep the floors, stock the shelves, throw out anything that’s gone bad or past its sell-by date, and so on. I was down by the flour, trying to clean up a small spill from one of the bags. I heard a huge bang, and everything rattled. Clouds of flour drifted down, which made me curse, I can tell you.”

“I’m sure,” said Parnacki.

“Almost immediately, I heard whistles. I went up to the front of the shop and saw a huge cloud of smoke, with the truck in the middle of it. The door to Berrits, the tailor’s shop, was swinging closed. I saw a couple of police officers running. There were shots from Berrits. I could hear them through the walls. One of the officers pulled out a gun and returned fire. Then everything was chaos for a while. Lots of shouting, and shooting, and whistles. I was on the floor behind the counter by then. I expect you know the rest from your men.”

“Indeed I do. And you’re confident that there’s no back exit from Berrits?”

“Definitely not. All our units are the same. Big shop area, small back room, tiny rest room. Nothing else. The only way in or out is through the shop. Well, unless you break a wall down, I suppose.”

Inspector Parnacki shook his head. “Everything appears intact.”

“So does this mean whoever did this has got away?”

“Thank you for your time, Mr Olivers. You’ve been very helpful.”

Olivers nodded, with a wry grin. “I’ll be in the shop tidying for another half an hour if you need me, inspector. Good luck.”

Parnacki left the grocery and made his way over to the truck. Officer Christopher Coleridge watched him approach. He had been the first man on the scene, and still looked shaky.

“Hello again, inspector,” Coleridge said.

“Good evening, Officer Coleridge. I know it’s tiresome but would you summarise events for me one last time?”

“I heard an explosion and came running. Lee was with me, and I could hear that another patrol was close by. I recognised the truck as a mobile banking vehicle, and assumed the blast was someone trying to blow the safe, so I readied my pistol. As I approached the truck, shots were fired from the third unit in the row of shops. I returned fire. Several other officers arrived and provided assistance. When it became clear there was no more gunfire coming from the unit, we stopped shooting and called for the weapon to be thrown out. There was no response and after several minutes I went into the shop, calling for the gunman to lie flat as I advanced. A pistol was on the floor near the front window, and the driver of the truck was lying on the floor at the back of the room, handcuffed and facing away from the door. He had been shot through the back of the head. There was no sign of the murderer. We searched absolutely everywhere.”

“And there’s no way the murderer could have come out of the front door in the confusion?”

“No, sir. I had my eyes on that door the whole time from the first shot until the moment we went in.”

Parnacki nodded. “I am quite sure you did, officer. Thank you. I suspect I know where he is.”

Where is the gunman?

CLASSIC CRIME

A Shot In The Dark by Lynne Truss: Raven Books £12.99

Short narrative:

The Keystone Cops might learn a thing or two from Lynne Truss. Her 1950s Brighton has a constabulary run by the brainless inspector Steine (pronounced Steen), who turns a blind eye to crime while composing radio homilies on the law and the citizen.

Steine has an ambitious sidekick who finds all the clues, but not necessarily in the right order. His confidant is the tea lady, who seems to know more about the local mafia than the whole force put together.

Into this mad medley springs Constable Twitten, a college boy set on making his name by nailing the killer of an obnoxious theatre critic, in town to savage the latest kitchen sink drama.

Everything that can go wrong does go wrong in a farce that gathers hilarious pace with every page.

More Marx Brothers than Agatha Christie, this is crime fiction turned on its head – a giddy spell of sheer delight.

Standard
Arts, Drama

Whodunnit: The Captive

LATERAL THINKING DRAMA & CONUNDRUM

Issue No. 7 in the Whodunnit crime series. Tap into your inner detective by explaining why Inspector Parnacki has become more suspicious of one the suspects in this case.

ROSALYN Reyes had been missing for three days, and when she was discovered, it was only by the thinnest thread of luck. Andrew Baum was an enthusiastic walker and knew much of the local countryside like the back of his hand. Taking a welcome day off from work, he decided to go for a hike in Easton woods and follow a trail he had not tried before. After walking for some time, he took a wrong turn and found himself at odds with his map.

. Previously Whodunnit: ‘The Necklace’

He was about to retrace his steps when he realised he could hear a very faint sound of someone crying. Following the sound led him to a clearing, in which stood a rickety shack. Inside, he discovered the missing young woman, uninjured, but chained securely to a pole. As soon as she was safe, the police put up a dragnet around that part of the woods and waited. Over the course of the afternoon, three men were apprehended in the area.

That was where the good luck ended. Miss Reyes knew nothing whatsoever about her captor. She had woken on the first day to find herself restrained and blindfolded, and had remained that way throughout. Not only had she not seen her captor, he had also refrained from touching her, and had only spoken to her very minimally in a highly contrived hoarse whisper. Material found in the shack suggested that he was preparing a ransom demand to deliver to her parents, but again, there was nothing in it that would help identify the kidnapper. As a final blow, none of the three suspects had been carrying anything incriminating on their persons.

Inspector Parnacki smoothed out his moustache, fiddling with the ends irritably. He needed a lead suspect in order to justify an in-depth investigation. A stroll would help him to gather his thoughts, he decided. He packed a pipe, picked up the interview reports, and made his way to a local park.

Newton Stevens was an impecunious odd-job man who lived at Easton, a couple of miles from the woods. His transcript was quite irascible. “Of course I was in the woods. I’m always in the woods, aren’t I? No crime to trap rabbits, leastways not last time I looked. I was going to check on my snares. Friday, ain’t it? What else I am supposed to do on a Friday? Nothing, that’s what, not since darned Adrian stopped work on that darned wall. Eh? Shack? Of course I don’t live in a shack, you darned fool. It’s a cabin, and it’s in Easton. Shack indeed. You better turn me loose quickly, or so help me, I’ll lose the light, and then it’ll be boiled greens for dinner. No way for a man to live, boiled greens. Not without some rabbit.”

Terence Moss worked at a drinking establishment in Easton. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” his transcript began. “You’ve got no right to arrest a man like that for just having a walk. If you worked in a bar like the Imperial, you’d want to get some peace and quiet of an afternoon yourself. I don’t know what you’re after, but you’ve got the wrong man. No opium, no hashish, I don’t do any of that stuff. I haven’t stolen anything since I was twelve. No, I don’t recognise that shack. Never been near it. Don’t even know where it is. Never seen that woman. I’d remember if anyone even slightly like that had ever been into the Imperial. Look, you know where I work and live. Just let me out of here, will you? I really can’t afford to lose this job. I haven’t done anything!”

Matthew Bird, finally, was a service engineer with a pipe-manufacturing company in Easton. “My last job had run long, so I decided to stroll in the woods while I had my packed lunch. Cheese and pickle sandwich. Very nice. I often do go for a little lunchtime walk, if it’s been a tough morning. Nice to have a little break from it all, you know? My boss won’t be very sympathetic about the amount of time this is taking now, however. I understand you’re just doing your job, but surely, we can get this sorted out swiftly. Why don’t you put me in a line-up? I’d be delighted to . . . Well yes, of course, I want to be helpful. No, that shack doesn’t look familiar, I’m afraid. Hardly seems the sort of place to develop steam-pipe problems. No, I’m afraid that girl doesn’t look familiar either.”

Parnacki tapped his pipe thoughtfully, and read over the transcripts again. His eyes brightened, and he turned to start back to the station.

Who has made Inspector Parnacki suspicious, and why?

Standard
Arts, Drama

Whodunnit: ‘The Necklace’

Issue No. 6 in the Whodunnit series. Tap into your inner detective by explaining how Inspector Parnacki believes he knows who the thief is in this case.

IT was past 9pm when Inspector Parnacki arrived at the home of Jackson and Isabella Stone. The snow that had been falling all day had finally stopped a couple of hours earlier, so the journey hadn’t been too unpleasant. He was met at the top of the driveway by a chilly-looking police officer. Parnacki showed the policeman his badge and asked for a report.

. You might also like ‘Whodunnit: The Logician’

The officer began, “An extremely valuable diamond necklace belonging to Isabella Stone was stolen from the house an hour ago, sir. Mr and Mrs Stone are entertaining longstanding friends this evening, a couple named John and Kathleen Acosta. None of the four report noticing anything suspicious until Mr Stone discovered that a ladder had been placed against the side wall, leading up to the window of the main bedroom. The group searched the house and he found that the necklace had been stolen. I have personally verified that the intruder is not anywhere to be found at the scene. He must have climbed in and out and made his escape before anyone noticed. Everything was in order when the Acostas arrived at 5.30pm, but the crime could have taken place anytime between then and 8.30pm, when the theft was discovered.”

Inspector Parnacki thanked the officer and asked to be shown the ladder. He was then led round the front of the house to the side. The snow was a mess of footprints, both around the house and to and from the small garden shed. The ladder had been placed carefully against the side of the building, reaching up to an open window. Was that something flapping? Parnacki took hold of the ladder and squinted up at the window, flinching slightly as the ladder sank into the snow. The flapping turned out to be just a piece of curtain blowing around in the breeze.

“It came from the shed?”

The officer nodded. “Jackson Stone positively identified it.”

“I should have a word with the Stones and Acostas,” Parnacki said.

The two men then went inside the house and into the sitting room, where the four friends were gathered. It was a pleasant room, neatly furnished and tidy, comfortable rather than prosperous.

After the introductions, Parnacki asked the four to give him their accounts of what happened.

“We didn’t realise anything had happened,” said Isabella Stone. “Not until it was all over, anyway.”

“Yes,” said Jackson Stone. “I went to the bathroom a little before 8.30 and spotted from the window that the ladder was resting against the wall. I couldn’t make sense of it, so once I was finished I popped outside to check, and there it was, out of the shed and running straight up to the bedroom window. So, I came back inside and raised the alarm.”

John Acosta nodded in agreement. “Jack rushed into the room looking most alarmed and told us there might be an intruder in the house. He and I immediately checked to make sure we were safe, while the ladies telephoned the police. I searched downstairs, while Jack looked upstairs. I was quite relieved to discover that no knives appeared to be missing from the kitchen.”

“That’s when I discovered that Isabella’s necklace was missing, and the thief with it,” Jackson said.

“We checked everywhere, inside and out,” said Kathleen Acosta. “No sign of either the necklace or the thief. It’s quite alarming.”

Inspector Parnacki nodded thoughtfully. “And I suppose the four of you have been together all evening?”

“Of course,” said Isabella. “In pairs, anyway. Kathy and I have made a couple of trips to the kitchen.”

“I see,” Parnacki said. “I should remind you, Mr Stone, that insurance fraud can carry a very significant prison and custodial sentence. I trust that the necklace will be found dropped in some suitably convenient location.”

Stone paled, and the other three gasped.

“Good evening,” Parnacki said, and sauntered out.

 

Why does Inspector Parnacki think Jackson Stone is the thief?

Standard