Bloodstone
“John’s hair was unkempt and his shirt inside out as he stumbled to answer my knock. No sign of Deirdre. I quickly explained the situation and asked if he would come check it out since I was, after all, just a newspaper reporter and not a doctor. However, from the condition of Mr. Sayer I was doubtful an ambulance would help. I was trying to buy Birdie and the aunts a bit of time and save their guests from waking up to sirens. Hopefully, they could send the wagon or whatever they call the vehicl...e that picks up bodies around to the back of the property without disturbing the guests.
Fiona prepared a cup of coffee for John while Lolly wandered into the dining room. I heard the clang of silverware a few seconds later as she set the table.
As if a guest dropped dead every day before the timer on the oven buzzed.
John scratched his head and leaned in to smell the man’s shirt. “Who poured ketchup on him?”
I nodded toward my grandmother.
John looked at her and asked, “Why?”
She sighed.MoreLess
Fiona prepared a cup of coffee for John while Lolly wandered into the dining room. I heard the clang of silverware a few seconds later as she set the table.
As if a guest dropped dead every day before the timer on the oven buzzed.
John scratched his head and leaned in to smell the man’s shirt. “Who poured ketchup on him?”
I nodded toward my grandmother.
John looked at her and asked, “Why?”
She sighed.MoreLess
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