The Reporting Team's Christmas Mystery Play 2003


Volume IV

Our proceedings of that first morning did little to advance the investigation. It was marked, however, at the outset by an incident which left the most sinister impression upon my mind. As we approached the scene of the tragedy we heard the rattle of a carriage coming towards us and stood aside to let it pass. As it drove by us I caught a glimpse through the closed window of a horribly contorted, grinning face glaring out at us. Those staring eyes and gnashing teeth flashed pass us like a dreadful vision.

"Doom, doom, doom, doom, doom, doom, doom, doom, doom, doom," shrieked the apparition. "Failing that a pint of Adnams will do at a pinch." The loonies are carted away to the Blue Anchor in Helston, Cornwall.

"Mr. Tremacdonald and Mrs. Trebristol!" cried Mortimer Tregennis, white to his lips. "They are taking them to Helston".

"Really?" said Holmes. "Do you thing they should be drinking Spingo in their condition?"

"I don't see why not," said the local police officeress, Miss Holly Trechambers. "It can't do them any more harm and most people who drink the Spingo tend to exit the Blue Anchor in that condition!"

 Chy An Indians was a granite house, rather than the traditional miniscule fisherman's hovel, with a small garden which was already, in that Cornish air, well filled with spring flowers and the piss, vomit and litter of a thousand emmets. Inside the house we were met by the last two remaining household staff, Cook & Constrictor-in-Chief, Mr. Treorm and his wife, the housekeeper, Mrs. Tregiftig.

Holmes invited the domestic serpents to have a seat and tell all. The house in St. Ives was run by good and faithful serpents.

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