Murder at the Masquerade: An RP Stage Short
(The same idea as the Harlequin Short, only the murder does not have to happen right away; this one is very loosely structured. Happy RPing, and ANYONE is welcome to join.)
"Well this is quaint." Molly Maltese said approvingly, adjusting her mask with a flick of her wrist. "I wonder who shall be the first to uncover my identity; I took a great many pains to disguise myself this evening."
"I hardly recognized you, ma'am." Her driver said politely, and Molly threw him a benevolent grin.
"I really do look quite striking with black hair, don't you think?" she asked, and he nodded. She leaned forward to check the mirror again. She had gone to the stylist and had her hair dyed a sleek, shiny black, and had deep finger-waves done to frame her face. A large peacock fascinator clung to her hair just above her elaborately twisted bun, launching a spray of exotic feathers behind her to match her peacock-detailed gold mask. Only her quirky red-lipped smirk was even faintly recognizable.
"This will be fun." she said as she climbed out of the car and adjusted her floor-length red-and-gold satin gown. Fluted beads jangled gently around the swooping neckline. She wrapped a white fur stole around her shoulders and moved inside, showing her invitation to the doorman. Immediately she was asked to dance by several young me in dashing black masks.
Marc pulled out a cigarette, and sat down as he lit it. He pulled out his watch. It read 12:35. It was just after midnight. The killer had now been on the lose for 2 hours. Four people were now dead. As Marc stood up, it hit him. Everything about the killer.
"Hey guys!" Marc shouted. No one seemed to listen at first. "EVERYONE!" Marc yelled.
This time, everyone turned their attention to Marc.
"I've found something. Everyone, the killer knows who he is killing," Marc said.
"We know that, Marc," Molly said.
"No, hear me out. The killer targeted the hostess at the beginning of the party right? Anyone know why? No? She was La Cosa Nostra. A mobster. Her sister, whom was killed second, was next. Joseph Zeo was killed because he was getting too close to the killer. I saw his lifeless face, and he knew the killer. Almost like they were....close friends. Or enemies. I found Jack Billing's finger prints on what could be the murder weapon." Marc said.
"But, we don't have enough proof, that he killed those people." Vulkie said.
Damn. She was right.
"One more thing," Marc said.
"What's that?" Talia asked.
"The killer is getting smart. At each crime scene, he has picked up the bullet shells. He knows that some of us can do ballistic check on the shells. He's clever. Anyone have any ideas on how to capture this bastard?" Marc asked.
"The night is dying" Corelli said, "and I'm still sober, are you sure this is good old booze?"
Corelli didn't wait for the barman answer, but everything was a bit blurry.
"I think is time to dust out"
"Want me to call a cab, sir" said the barman.
"Nah, I'll walk home" Corelli handwaved the barman and left the bar.
Corelli tried to walk, the tricky streets wasn't helping him with all that strange shaking, and constantly he was looking in every direction.
"What is this?" he said, looking an envelope in the floor, Corelli took it, it was an invitation for a masquerade party, "What? no tickets? That's just half invitation... and yet, that's all I need."
"Any ideas how to catch this bastard?" Marc asked.
No one spoke for a full minute. It was quiet. Too quiet. The killer was somewhere in this building. Footsteps echoed behind Marc, who was facing the rest of the detectives and some of the civilians whom were all trapped inside of the building, with a homicidal killer.
Marc spun around to see who was behind him. A figure stood in the moonlight. All that could be seen was the outline. "Identify yourself, now!" Marc said drawing his revolver. As he drew his, he heard four other revolver hammers cock back.
"I wouldn't shoot me, if I were you," The figure said. "I just walked in. See, I found this invitation here to a Masquerade party, and boy, what a party it is."
"Who the hell are you?" Molly asked.
"Who am I? Andrew Corelli is the name. Private Eye."
"Private Eye, eh?" Marc asked. "How do we know you're not the killer?"
"A killer huh? That must be why the lights were off. Trust me, Mr. uh....whoever you are, if I were your killer, I wouldn't be standing in front of you, now would I? No, sir. Instead, I'd be taking advantage of the darkness, like the killer maybe doing, and planning an attack instead of talking to you." Andrew replied.
"Good point," Vulkie said.
"Now, enlighten me," Marc said. "How did you get in here?"
Wolf Girl 22
Wolfie had just got the envelope and invite to the party. Now ready to go she Walked out the door. With no ride she was forced to walk. When she finally got to the party she seen all the lights where out and someone putting chains on the doors. "There are people inside there, I wonder why the lights are out.." She thought as she sliped past the man chaining the doors up.
Wolfie peered into the window and seen loads of people. Wolfie thought quick as she heard the man coming and jumped into the bushes. After he was finally gone she ran around back falling over bodys. She sliped inside an unchained door and fallowed the vocies.
She made her way to the front of the room, where she seen Marc and other familar faces.
"Marc!" Wolfie said pushing through the crowd. "We have got big problem, There is a man outside chaining up the doors." She told him as she got next to him. "Whats going on?" She asked looking up at the lights.
Corelli was a bit dizzy, and all that info didn't seem to be right, he started moving his head trying to think through the misty alcohol in his blood, and by his smell, everyone noticed that.
"What's wrong with you? You're not gonna tell us how did you get in here?" said the man in black, while he was looking for something in his coat.
"It's just that... no... I'm not going to tell you a thing, what's going on here?" said Corelli clearly angry.
"Ok, that's enough..." and the man in black drew a gun, at the same time a girl next to him started to ask for answers, and some people was getting near the scene.
"Marc, I want this man alive" said some black haired woman.
"We don't even know if he is the killer"
"I told you, bruno, I'm not a killer, my name is Corelli and I'm a shamus, happy? now what's going on here?"
"Watch your mouth, Corelli, I'm not a mob" and everyone noticed the hatred in that Marc's voice.
"But... all the artillery everyone is carrying... I don't get it"
"Look, Corelli, we're private investigators and we're in troubles right now, why don't you tell us how did you get in here?" said the beautiful black haired woman.
Corelli mumbled something about some good and bad cops and then patiently he started:
"Well, you didn't have some brunos at the door, it wasn't easy to find the entrance, especially if it was the only one without chains closing it..."
Everybody could heard the instantly drawn whats, whys and other equally desperated questions and demands, some people passed away just by the thought that they were trapped with a killer and there was another group, that upon hearing the news, started to move, and this last group was the one that all the detectives was trying to calm.
And then, it was that loud and recognizable bang, and a clear voice that started to talk.
"I swear on the grave of my sainted mother, who isn't actually dead yet, that if all of you don't shut up this instant, I will spare you the expense of catching the killer as I shall KILL every last one of you!" Molly said, lowering her pistol back into the denizens of her dress. "Now everyone take a seat where they are standing. NOW. The killer won't be shooting anyone while we're all together."
With a couple of terse motions, she gestured the detectives onto the stage, throwing a saucy wink at Andrew Corelli before shoving him after them.
"In an orderly fashion...and if its not up to my standards of order, then I shall shoot you and move on," she said politely, "raise your hands, tell me who saw what, when, and where. If you don't have something useful to add, then keep your mouths shut. My detective friends here will be on hand to take down notes."
She put her hands on her hips and waited, looking around at everyone before someone threw their hand up and began.
"In an orderly fashion...and if its not up to my standards of order, then I shall shoot you and move on," Molly said politely, "raise your hands, tell me who saw what, when, and where. If you don't have something useful to add, then keep your mouths shut. My detective friends here will be on hand to take down notes."
Marc waited until silence filled the room. It seemed as though no one had anything to say. He threw his had up in the air, and began talking.
"We all know the killer knew his victims. The killer is standing here and it could be anyone of us. However, finger prints have been found on what could be the murder weapon. Four people have been killed, and four shots have been fired out of that gun. The finger prints belong to none other than Mr. Jack Billings himself."
Whispers spread amongst the civilians that were in the ball room. Seconds later they died down and someone began clapping.
"Very clever of you, Mr. Lacrimosa, to sit there and say that I killed those people. Very clever of you, indeed." Jack said out of the darkness. Marc could see the faint outline of him walking around.
"You see, you can't even prove that it was me. For I've been here the whole time, while you little dicks have been out and about playing like you are real cops," Billings said.
"Jack, I'm on to you," Marc said. And with that, Marc spun around turning his back to Jack.
Marc was angry. Jack had humiliated him. But also, Jack Billings was right. Marc couldn't prove that Jack was the killer. Zeo, one of the smartest people there was dead; his lifeless body laying in some kind of dark closet. Marc had known that Zeo had sent for help shortly before his death. Shortly after, Zeo's help never arrived. The body had been spotted by some one looking out the window.
Finding this killer was going to be harder than he thought. He pulled out his pocket watch. The time was now 11:35 pm. The night was still young. It seemed as though he had been hunting this killer for hours. But hours, as it had seemed, was only ninety minutes. Yes an hour and a half.
Marc let out a deep sigh as he walked away from the crowd. He pulled out his pipe, filling the bowl with his favorite tobacco. He hesitated before lighting it. He paced around the room in deep thought. The killer in here was the most psychologically advanced criminal Marc had ever hunted. For all the bodies that were found, the all bullet shells were picked up.
"That's it!" Marc exclaimed.
"What's it?" Vulkie asked quickly.
"Think about it! What was noticed at each of the crime scenes?" Marc asked.
No one spoke.
"The bullet shells. There were no bullet shells. Everyone who was shot...the killer picked them up. There certainly are no trash bins in the building. So whoever is the killer, has the bullet shells on them, has to be the killer!" Marc explained. Why didn't he think about this before? The answer: he was too excited. Yes, excited. He was excited, not because he lost a friend and not because three innocent lives had been taken away. In fact, he wasn't excited as in happy. No. Instead his adrenalin had kicked in. He started jumping to conclusions too quickly. He put out his pipe, put it back in his jacket pocket, then turned to the large crowd.
"Everyone, listen up. Every civilian in here, every detective in here, empty out your pockets."
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