Welcome to The Pilot Program 2020 once more for the short story of August. Every month I write a new short story which you can read, like, share, comment on. And in doing so, you cast your vote to choose what I will write as a short story series for the next year. Three Strings And A Lie is the 8th short story of this year. Hope you like it and don’t forget to check out previous entries in this series.
He died alone in a room in the basement of his mansion. No windows, one way out, and three people in the whole house. Quickly interrupted by a snarky voice. Yes, but you could argue that we are five. If you include the deceased. He turns whilst rubbing his beard. Yes, of course. And we will be a few more once the police arrive. But there were only the three of you and a dead body in a nasty smelling room by the time I got here… Lady or Miss… Now tell me, he starts walking up the stairs looking her in the eyes, how could Mister Deceased over there have died? With the same snarky tone she continues. Like how should I know? Isn’t it why you are here? He smiles as his hand leaves his beard. Indeed, he starts whistling as he goes up the stairs and into the hallway. Come on. What are you still doing there? Want to burn your nose hairs? Besides, he is not going to come back to life if you continue to stare at him. The three follow him into the hallway. Who found him? The snarky voice spoke once more… We three did. We smelled something horrid and came to the source. He starts scratching his beard once more. Where’s a place we can sit, ponder and mourn Mister Departed? A young man points him to the right. The living room is this way. He chuckles. Something rather funny? Some joke? The snarky voice asks once more. No. Pardon me.
Excuse my rashness, but do any of you know how the man died? They shake their heads. So, you found him simply lying there face down in that room. They all say yes calmly one after the other. Then might any of you know why he had no shirt on? They once more shake their heads. Lady… Miss… Beth. Where were you today? She turns red. I wasn’t at home, to put it bluntly. He chuckles. Anything funny? She asks. No. Please, continue. She takes a deep breath. I was on a date. He takes a closer look at her. Dressed like that? She rolls her eyes at him. Yes. Do we have a problem with trousers? They are comfortable. He takes a step back. No. Actually, I’d prefer it. Easier to commit the murder, wouldn’t you say? She scoffs. Yes, just as easy as him wearing slippers or him wearing those weird brown shoes. He turns curiously and looks closely at the slippers. What are you doing in those at this hour? Mister I-Don’t-Know. He scratches his head. Otto is my name. I just woke up. He starts playing with his beard again. Just now? What are you doing for a living? Otto takes a step back. Copywriting, and I don’t know. He nods and turns his attention towards the brown shoes. And you? He looks up at him. Andrew. I was… Working. Turning towards Beth and Otto as they shrug. What exactly are you working? He sighs. I can’t explain it properly. It’s a lot of things in one job. The title is meaningless, it’s there just for tax purposes. It’s an office job, simply put. Pepper scratches his head. Do you have a limp, Andrew? Confused by the questions he shakes his head, putting one leg over the other.
Now… That we have introduced ourselves and what we did today. The snarky voice once more interrupts him. But we didn’t. I still don’t know your name, mister… With a smile he takes a step back once more. My name is Pepper. I thought you’d know. Since Mister Deceased somehow, invited me here today with an open letter. Beth and Andrew stand up. What? We thought you were a detective with the police. He puts his hands out. Now, now. Calm down. There is a dead man in a suspiciously empty basement with no windows that sent me a letter knowing he would die today. How and why? Otto. He turns towards Pepper. We emptied the basement last week. We always wanted to do it, but never got around to it, so after two weeks of looking through stuff, we finally did it. But we couldn’t agree what to do with it, so we left it like that. He nods. Beth. She sits down. I don’t know what else you want me to tell you. We all have our reasons to hate him. Pepper looks up at Andrew. Mother died when we were little. Father couldn’t really cope with everything. So we were left to our own devices. Pepper once more turns towards Beth. He was a pathetic excuse of a man, simply pitiful. Pepper turns his gaze towards Otto. She’s right. Maybe… He raises his brow at what Otto was about to say. Maybe he finally found the courage to kill himself, interrupts again Beth. Well, isn’t that tragic? Pepper interjects. But, even so. How? There are no strangulation marks, no cuts, no blood, no anything to that former of a man, now corpse, to show that he has killed himself. So how could he have died face down and shirtless?
What was written in the letter you got? Pepper turns towards Beth and closes his eyes and says... On this day, I shall day as I came. breath in, breath out, with no one to blame. I want to forgive them as I’d like to forgive myself for my mistakes and weaknesses. I never wanted to create evil in this world, so take this letter and key to solve my murder. Take the money and hold whoever is responsible for my death accountable, I don’t want my mistakes to burden the world. She scoffs. What a dick. Andrew gets up once more with an angry expression, as Otto leans back on the wall. Pepper looks at them with pity and disgust. So. Three children, one’s daddy’s boy. One’s a parasite. And one’s simply immature. Yet surprisingly all good liars. And none the wiser to tell me who killed their pathetic father. One of you sent me this letter, since it was opened. All you three found him dead at the same time. Now that’s some marvelous coincidence. Since it seems that you two came home roughly at the same time as he woke up. I wonder for how many days he was left there to die in that empty room? Before the one that sent me this letter found the key to open the room. Beth tries to interject, but Pepper quickly shuts her down. One of you is the murderer and has a similar key to this one, since Otto seemed kind enough to provide it with the letter. Andrew and Beth turn towards Otto as they get up angrily from their seats. Now, now, show me your keys. They both refuse. It doesn’t matter, the police will be here in a minute or two, so either way, this is over. Reluctantly, both hand over their keys on Pepper’s handkerchief. Well, neither of you seem to have the key. Did you lose it? Or did you not have time to dispose of it because your sister came home early from her date? No need to answer, just let’s fix your walking problem. Take off your shoes. He takes them off, just as police sirens are heard outside the house. It was all their idea! They’re just as guilty as I am. Pepper quickly interjects. We all have an urge like that, we all have that worst thought ever. Yet the difference is that they did not act on it. You did. Otto found out too late to do anything but find the key, duplicate it and prove you’re guilty. And Beth couldn’t stand him, so she tried to avoid him as much as possible. So she couldn’t know of him or his situation, just as he finishes this sentence Beth starts crying. And that, was the day I met Pepper at my first crime scene…
Hope you enjoyed this murder mystery short story that is part of The Pilot Program 2020. If you want more, don’t forget that you choose what I write by liking, sharing, commenting and reading it over and over again. There might be one more short story for this year’s Pilot Program, but it also might not. So go back and read this year’s short story contenders for what might become the 2021 Short Story Series on Nobody The Blog. And if you want to help even more, you can always donate at: https://www.paypal.me/RaulFO
