A whodunnit

A whodunnit of Hercule-Poirot-ean proportions

It was a ‘whodunnit’ of Hercule-Poirot-ean proportions, but viler and more violent than Ms Christie tended to write.

As a rapid response paramedic, Tom was used to seeing the gore and guts of a situation gone badly awry, and was even used to milling around with the ‘boys in blue’ (black, these days, with luminous yellow overlay, bulletproof vests, and Tazers) whilst the death was officialised and crime scene photographs taken before the body was removed to the mortuary.

But he wasn’t used to the sleepy silence of this village being shattered by the blaring presence of emergency vehicles, media trucks, and their itinerant hoards. He wasn’t used to the idea that the men and women he’d grown up with were all under suspicion, now packed into the village hall ready for interviews, storms of mutinous outrage whirling across their heads; thundering voices punctuating the conversation with old prejudices, whilst the bunting outside – forlorn standards of the village fete – hung limply in the sunset.

His spirit baulked at the thought that any of those good, middle-class people had anything to do with what had happened overnight, but he couldn’t deny that there was an undertone of steely secrecy in their demeanours, coupled with a guarded and surly refutation of any knowledge of the facts.

It was, however, a fact that there had been a murder most foul, leaving a young, brown body cloven in two across the steps of the war memorial – and someone knew something about it.

Six Sentence Stories

Many thanks to Ivy and her wonderful Six Sentence Stories prompt ‘Standard’

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40 thoughts on “A whodunnit

  1. Pingback: And what had the VICTIM dunnit? | Considerings

  2. Pingback: HOW did they dunnit? | Considerings

  3. Pingback: So who DID dunnit? | Considerings

  4. This story is very captivating and one remains hanging, wondering why and who had done the foul deed … why is the whole town afflicted with a bad case of steely omertΓ  … ah yes, I’d say an new instalment would me much appreciated!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Awesome job. I liked this the best “It was, however, a fact that there had been a murder most foul, leaving a young, brown body cloven in two across the steps of the war memorial – and someone knew something about it.”
    It made me remember walking through the memorials in DC with you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Kayso most every little, sleepy village in England has a war memorial of some kind – usually in the village square or in a park or churchyard, and it tends to be a tall cross on a plinth, usually with a few steps up to it, and on the plinth are graven the names of the men from the village who lost their lives in the war.

      Simple, old-fashioned, and usually integral. Nothing so fancy or artistic as the ones we saw, but nonetheless poignant.

      To defile such a cherished monument with blood is a statement in its own right, I think.

      That day with you in DC was stilling and very powerful. Especially on the heels of having spent 9/11 in NYC. I’m so glad you took me to see the monuments. πŸ™‚


  6. I enjoyed the story (and I liked it as well as admired it)… no, just because I’m all about, “how did she create such a vivid scene and setting and characters-to-be, doesn’t mean it’s not still just fun to let the words show me a place I’ve never been to before!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Underlying this is the mistrust of strangers (the police) coming into the community and questioning everyone when one of them had taken the law in their own hands (thank goodness and about time and good riddance).

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Movies and books in which you kind of know or at least suspect many people have information but nobody is talking freak me out for some reason…. I think its the insinuation that anyone when protected by a group can do some pretty foul s***. Scary to me.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Talk about a cliff hanger! I want the rest. i want to know who done it and why and how and – all of it. Oh, most excellent. The game’s afoot. The little grey cells are working. The ghosts of Agnatha and Sir Arthur are grinning. Love it!

    Liked by 2 people

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