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Murder at the Olympic Village
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Pinball Amateur

Aug-22-2016 23:47

I was spending a quiet week at the Majestic Hotel, which was being used to house both athletes and spectators alike during the Olympics. It was quite the change from my usual schedule of chasing down deadbeats and trying to figure out why the crackpots of the world were killing each other. I breathed the smell of fresh air and sunshine in deeply to my lungs as I straightened my hat in the mirror. What a change from the stink of the smog and despair of the city. I could used to this, a lot. There, that was perfect. I was ready to start my day.

Suddenly, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find the Hotel Manager frantically looking around and fidgeting nervously. ''Ah, there you are! Please, come with me,'' he demanded, not bothering to check if I followed him.

I shrugged, picked up my pocketbook, and followed him down the door, closing my room door after me. We descended the Main Stairs rapidly, and I listened idly while the Manager whispered hysterically, ''How could this happen? And now, of all times!! We'll be shut down for sure. Why did it have to happen right on the main landing, of all places? I'm doomed!''

''Something wrong, Sir?'' I asked kindly, trying valiantly to keep up with him.

We rounded a corner of the staircase, and I promptly ran into the Manager's back.

''She's been pommeled!! By a horse, no less! Please, Detective, FIX THIS! NOW!!!'' he yelled at me, then fled for his office.

I blinked in surprise at his outburst, then turned to look at what had caused it.

I stared open-mouthed at the top of the main staircase. There, a young woman, a member of the British yachting team, was lying underneath a large pommel horse, quite dead. How it had gotten from the gymnastics arena to the Majestic, I had no idea. The young lady had indeed been pommeled - by a horse. It was going to take all my skill to find the killer.


luc pfeiffer
luc pfeiffer

Aug-25-2016 00:59

Three days later, the martinet lieu hadn't found bupkus. I related the story to him in his office as he knocked back whiskey after whiskey, none of which he shared with me. “A banana?!” he said aghast. “the Swiss team?!!” he was incredulous. But this is 1924. We have LAWS!!” he thundered.

“It was an accident,” I cut him off. “Something you normally see on stage or from Charlie Chaplin.''

"Oooh, we love him," the lieu swung his arms expansively.

"Great, but it means my client is off the hook."

"Yes, yes, but I want you and your team out Paris by the end of the week."

"Great, because we're heading to Yugoslavia. Something about a mime convention."

Pinball Amateur

Aug-25-2016 01:38

(By the way, Judges, please excuse Luc's tardiness and any typographical errors you may find. I'm serving as his secretary, and my stenography is not always the best. Thank you. ;-)

(And P.S. -- Devi asked to resubmit her entry on behalf of Chariots. I said sure. Thank you. ;-)


Aug-25-2016 03:01

Hello all,

Having read all your stories, I must say, I really enjoyed reading them.

However, I do gotta hand out my commendations to Chariots of Fire, for putting everything (and I mean almost everything) in a third person perspective.

As for a favorite, you guys are making it hard on me - I'm inclined to say that each story has it's ups and downs though, but I'm gutted between Chariots's and Rick's stories...

For me, they take the top - but hey, we gotta await the judges's judgement :)


Aug-25-2016 06:28

At that very moment a group of burly weightlifters came prancing by in ballerina shoes and feathered pillbox hats. They gingerly stepped around the body and gracefully glided down the stairs quickly followed by Sultry waving a butterfly net.

“Sultry's still trying to catch herself one of those hats, huh?” chuckled Sal. “Etain, you’ve got to come see this.” I followed Sal out of the hotel and we headed out to the Hertha-BSC football field. It was between games and the field was being used by clowns! I rubbed my eyes disbelievingly.
Apparently Adolf Hitler wanted an Olympic Clown Competition and Germany, Spain and Finland had sent their best. Choking on laughter we made our way back to the hotel in search of Autumn.

Sal and I went upstairs to the temporary headquarters grudgingly put at our disposal. Battered desks and wobbly chairs had been hastily shoved into an empty room. Autumn, dressed in a ladies golf ensemble, had commandeered one of them and was busy leafing through a stack of papers.
“Guys wait till you see what I’ve dug up! It seems the manager likes to dress up in a sparkly vest and black dress shoes and wander the hotel halls at night. I’ll bet he knows something." Just then, the door flew open. As I turned to look I felt a sharp pain in my arm. “You!” I cried out, “I should have known.” I cringed as the killer grabbed my arms and started shaking me. I fell into darkness.

“Come on, wake up sleepy head! We’ll miss the opening ceremony if we don’t leave now.”
There was that sharp pain again and I woke up to find Autumn pinching my arm for all she was worth. “What?” I mumbled groggily, “where am I?” Then realization hit me. We were in Germany to enjoy the 1936 Summer Olympic Games. “Oh my,” I scolded myself, “I should never have had that last Glennfiddich!”

We watched as the gray doves were released into the stadium, and the torch bearer ran by to light the flame.
I did a double take, were those clown shoes on his feet?

Della Devine
Della Devine

Aug-26-2016 18:26

Great stories! This will be a difficult choice :D

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