I Bet You I CAN...

[Donna Moore]

Someone bet me after one of my most recent forum posts that I couldn't write a story using the elements I had mentioned in my post (an amateur sleuth with an aardvark called Samuel who's actually the ghost of Joan of Arc, a serial killer whose signature is a chess piece made of brie wrapped in a piece of Amazonian love poetry). Well, since I had a spare hour at lunchtime, I thought I would give it a whirl. There was nothing to say it actually had to be good, so it's not...

“Listen to this, Samuel.” I folded the newspaper over and started reading. My pet aardvark Samuel raised one eyebrow and continued snoring. Being nocturnal as he was, I had a hell of a time getting him up out of bed in the morning. I thought the latest report of St Mary Mood’s serial killer might wake him up.

This was the third death in as many days – each one of the bodies had been found drowned in the font at St Chlamydias’s Church of the Holy Moly Batman. Each one had had a piece of paper with a verse of Amazonian love poetry written on it wrapped around a chess piece carved out of brie in their ear. The police were not saying whether anything had been written on the piece of paper.

I folded the paper, put on my pink crocheted shawl and my favourite motorcycle boots and stood up. “Come along Samuel, we have a murder to solve.”

Samuel muttered under his breath “Sacre blue et nom de Dieu.”

“Oh just shift your arse, you long nosed freak. You’re an aardvark. Stop with the Joan of Arc impersonations will you. I’ve had enough of clearing up your mess after you’ve re-enacted the siege of Orleans in your litter tray.”

Samuel put on his martyred look.

“And, while we’re at it, they’re NOT visions from god. I’ve seen the bottle of cooking sherry. It was full when I made that trifle for the vicar after he came back from his cruise up the Amazon. That was only a week ago and now the bottle is nearly empty.”

Samuel tried to look noble. Not easy when two stray ants from his morning snack were crawling down his long snout.

*****

We found the police mobile incident unit outside the church.

“Shit. Watch out Guv, it’s Agatha Parple.”

I gave Sergeant Harry Bisch a stern look and turned my attention to his superior. “Inspector Rhombus. Samuel and I are here to give you the benefit of our sleuthing skills. St Mary Mood would have been serial killed into extinction if it hadn’t been for our invaluable assistance in the past.”

“Miss Parple,” said Rhombus. At least, I think that’s what he said – his Edinburgh accent was rather hard to understand. “I would appreciate it if you and your overly large nostrils would stay out of police business this time. We’re perfectly capable of finding the killer this time. We have three chess pieces made out of brie and three verses of Amazonian love poetry as clues.”

“Excuse me Inspector.” We all turned to see the Vicar hovering behind us, munching nervously on a piece of brie. “Can I get back into the church? I have evensong to prepare and then a chess match with the verger.”

“Sorry Vicar. CSI are just finishing up inside. They’ll have the body out in a jiffy. This must be terrible for you – all these murders happening in your church.”

The Vicar nibbled at his brie. “Yes. It’s not very pleasant, and me just back from my Amazon holiday too.” He sighed, wistfully. “Ah, I wish I was back there now, floating up the river, through the tropical jungle, with my dusky Amazonian princess by my side. She’s an environmentalist you know. Her whole life is spent caring about the Amazon rainforests. We could do so much good together.”

“Yes Vicar,” I patted him on the arm sympathetically. “It would be enough to turn a lesser man absolutely batshit. Good job you’re a man of god and all that.”

The door of the church opened and a party of white suited technicians brought the body down to the gate. “Here he is Guv.”

Rhombus knelt down and looked closely at the body on the stretcher. He drew in his breath sharply.

“What is it Inspector?” I moved closer. I could see something in the body’s ear.

“This monster is escalating.” Rhombus took out the item from the corpse’s ear. The first brie chess piece was a pawn, the next one a castle. Look – the bastard’s moved on to one of those little horse-y things.”

The Vicar pulled some more brie out of his pocket and unwrapped it. “It’s a knight, Inspector.”

Rhombus turned to me, his face pale. “Miss Parple. I’m sorry for the quip about the size of your nostrils. Will you help us?”

“Samuel and I would LOVE to Inspector, wouldn’t we Samuel?”

“Merde” he muttered under his breath.

The Inspector unwrapped the paper from the brie knight. He read the verse on it. “I’d cover myself in cream antifungal
To be able to accompany you into the jungle
Oh dear merciful Lord I feel so randy
I would chase you up the Andes.
Come with me my dear, forget deforestation,
What both of us need is sexual penetration
We’ll forget money and wealth and worldliness and fast cars
I just want to get my hands on your Lake Titicacas.”

The Vicar burst into sobs. “It’s no good, I must confess. I can’t bear the strain. Take me down the Station. Clap me in irons and throw away the key. I deserve to be punished.”

Inspector Rhombus’ phone rang. He held up his hand. “Not right now Vicar. It looks like the serial killer has struck again. And he’s changed his MO. He’s moved on to gorgonzola."

[LC Fraser]

Hey I liked it too! I just had questions. Like how big were the carvings and how stale was the cheese and had it turned blue? And why Brie?

Okay, I will shut up now and go back to reading (yes you did *fix* my reading slump and I am on the 5th book since the Baker one - you can now claim the title of "Book Doctor")

[Donna Moore]

Always pawns Lynne :o)

Glad you like it Jools

[Julie Morrigan]

',,,enough to turn a lesser man absolutely batshit.' Love it - nice one, Donna!

[LC Fraser]

But are they the kings or mere pawns?