05-26-2004, 11:02 AM
"The Guilty Victim" 8)
Harmon DeGries sat in front of the crackling fire sipping brandies with his wife and their house guests. "Forty years ago, I killed a man," he said softly. The Boston investment broker paused, letting the weight of his admission sink in.
"You mean in a war situation?" Sir Douglas Black said helpfully. "Or perhaps a car accident," Marilyn Rivers added. "A horrible thing, yes, but not the same as actually..."
"I actually, physically strangled him to death." Harmon checked the door and was grateful to find it closed. "I've never told this to another living soul."
"We'll be discreet, of course," the thirty-something heiress whispered in her warm Texas accent.
Clarisa DeGries and the two guests listened as Harmon, his voice edged with remorse, told the tale-- of the homeless drifter who lived on his parents' Massachusetts estate when he was a teenager, of the day the drifter stole young Harmon's bicycle, and how he caught the man, knocked him off the bike and throttled him by the throat until he was dead.
"I buried him in a ravine. For years, I expected the body to be found, for the police to show up at my doorstep with some exotic forensic evidence tying me to it. As I get older, I find I think about it more, not less. Such a callous, horrible thing." He sipped his brandy. "Well, Douglas. Marilyn. Dear Clarisa. You know the worst about me now."
His English peer tried to think of something appropriate to say. This was his first trip to the wilds of America. The country certainly seemed to be living up to its reputation.
Marilyn Rivers, too, was at a loss. The man to whom she'd turned over all of Daddy's oil money with had just confessed to murder. "You mustn't tell anyone else."
Clarisa, a retired Las Vegas dancer, was the least shocked of the three. "I always knew you had a past. "If the police ever do come, would you tell them the truth?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Harmon snorted. "I feel guilty, not suicidal." That last statement was forgotten by the next morning when Rodgers, the English butler, opened the downstairs library and discovered his employer's body slumped at his desk, a poisoned snifter of brandy in his hand. On the desk, not far away, was a handwritten note.
"Dearest Clarisa,
I'm so sorry to have to leave you this way. But the shame of what I have done, cheating clients, betraying family and friends, even murder, weights too heavily on my heart. This is the only honourable way out. Harmon"
The downstairs servants' quarters were all abuzz at the suicide and by the note's mention of murder. "The police say that Miss Rivers told them that Mr. DeGries told herself and Sir Douglas..." Mabel the cook was passing on
the latest from the investigation happening in the rooms above their heads.
A maid named Dora listened carefully. She had been upstairs and had seen the note. It didn't much look like Mr. DeGries' writing. And there were plenty of people with reasons to kill him. Clarisa DeGries, for one. The marriage was not your typical love match.
As for the others, the police had uncovered several unsettling facts. For instance, Sir Douglas Black had just bought Harmon DeGries' biggest competitor. Harmon's scandalous death would greatly increase Black's business. And Marilyn Rivers had lost tens of millions in a technology company Harmon had persuaded her to invest in. Even the household butler, Rodgers, held a grudge against the dead man. Rodgers had once owned a London firm driven out of business by a rumor DeGries had started.
Dora was the most junior of the maids, an Irish lass with no skills and a questionable green card. She had her own ideas about the master's death. But no one would ever listen to her.
Whom does Dora suspect?
Sir Douglas Black
Marilyn Rivers
Clarisa DeGries
Rodgers
Not sure
What clue points to the killer? ???
Harmon DeGries sat in front of the crackling fire sipping brandies with his wife and their house guests. "Forty years ago, I killed a man," he said softly. The Boston investment broker paused, letting the weight of his admission sink in.
"You mean in a war situation?" Sir Douglas Black said helpfully. "Or perhaps a car accident," Marilyn Rivers added. "A horrible thing, yes, but not the same as actually..."
"I actually, physically strangled him to death." Harmon checked the door and was grateful to find it closed. "I've never told this to another living soul."
"We'll be discreet, of course," the thirty-something heiress whispered in her warm Texas accent.
Clarisa DeGries and the two guests listened as Harmon, his voice edged with remorse, told the tale-- of the homeless drifter who lived on his parents' Massachusetts estate when he was a teenager, of the day the drifter stole young Harmon's bicycle, and how he caught the man, knocked him off the bike and throttled him by the throat until he was dead.
"I buried him in a ravine. For years, I expected the body to be found, for the police to show up at my doorstep with some exotic forensic evidence tying me to it. As I get older, I find I think about it more, not less. Such a callous, horrible thing." He sipped his brandy. "Well, Douglas. Marilyn. Dear Clarisa. You know the worst about me now."
His English peer tried to think of something appropriate to say. This was his first trip to the wilds of America. The country certainly seemed to be living up to its reputation.
Marilyn Rivers, too, was at a loss. The man to whom she'd turned over all of Daddy's oil money with had just confessed to murder. "You mustn't tell anyone else."
Clarisa, a retired Las Vegas dancer, was the least shocked of the three. "I always knew you had a past. "If the police ever do come, would you tell them the truth?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Harmon snorted. "I feel guilty, not suicidal." That last statement was forgotten by the next morning when Rodgers, the English butler, opened the downstairs library and discovered his employer's body slumped at his desk, a poisoned snifter of brandy in his hand. On the desk, not far away, was a handwritten note.
"Dearest Clarisa,
I'm so sorry to have to leave you this way. But the shame of what I have done, cheating clients, betraying family and friends, even murder, weights too heavily on my heart. This is the only honourable way out. Harmon"
The downstairs servants' quarters were all abuzz at the suicide and by the note's mention of murder. "The police say that Miss Rivers told them that Mr. DeGries told herself and Sir Douglas..." Mabel the cook was passing on
the latest from the investigation happening in the rooms above their heads.
A maid named Dora listened carefully. She had been upstairs and had seen the note. It didn't much look like Mr. DeGries' writing. And there were plenty of people with reasons to kill him. Clarisa DeGries, for one. The marriage was not your typical love match.
As for the others, the police had uncovered several unsettling facts. For instance, Sir Douglas Black had just bought Harmon DeGries' biggest competitor. Harmon's scandalous death would greatly increase Black's business. And Marilyn Rivers had lost tens of millions in a technology company Harmon had persuaded her to invest in. Even the household butler, Rodgers, held a grudge against the dead man. Rodgers had once owned a London firm driven out of business by a rumor DeGries had started.
Dora was the most junior of the maids, an Irish lass with no skills and a questionable green card. She had her own ideas about the master's death. But no one would ever listen to her.
Whom does Dora suspect?
Sir Douglas Black
Marilyn Rivers
Clarisa DeGries
Rodgers
Not sure
What clue points to the killer? ???
