This weeks great words to play with:
Banister Poison Rustle Pallor Dizzy Unease Laughter Controvert (to argue against, dispute, deny, oppose) Lacteal (milky, resembling milk) Convulsion Maim Hasten
Gavin Banister lay stretched out on the floor. There was something about the whole scene that suggested Gavin was not well and had most likely seen better days.
The pallor of his face was not good, the flies buzzing around the room not a positive sign either.
The main indicator was the large bottle in his hand with poison written on it and the lacteal emissions oozing from his mouth in small volcanic eruptions as if his body was still trying its best to attract attention to itself even in the moments after his untimely death.
I quickly determined he was deceased. I’m very astute that way!
He didn’t respond to my shouting at him nor to the less than gentle slapping I did to his face in an attempt to arouse him. Gavin was never to be aroused again.
Which was a bit of a shame as he had quite the reputation with the ladies. Many a young and impressionable lady had been left dizzy with expectation after an evening experiencing Gavin’s considerable charms.
I felt an immediate unease in the situation. From the next room I heard laughter, the merry chortling of inebriated club member’s intent of making the best of a bad round of golf by drinking themselves stupid in order to forget their obvious shortcomings around the greens.
I was careful not to hasten to a firm decision in coming to terms with the scene before me. There seemed little to controvert the obvious, Gavin was dead, most likely poisoned, his shirt I noticed was out from his trousers the result of the severe convulsions he would have suffered as the poison took effect in his system.
The question was who would want to maim Gavin?
Everyone loved Gavin.
I did and I had only just met him.
Just then I heard the unmistakeable rustle of leaves which aroused my curiosity as I was standing indoors well away from any trees or fallen leaves.
Chipper Ferguson walked in shaking off the leaves that had attached themselves to his person. Chipper had a habit of finding things attached to him, today it was leaves which was fortunate as I love to use the word rustle and how fortunate Chipper was at the club and attaching himself to leaves of all things.
Chipper was the sort of person you liked to see at the club rather than at his job at the sewerage works.
There was much to take in for me. Gavin dead, poison, the pallor of his skin, the lacteal emissions which still bubbled from his pale lips, his shirt out from a serious convulsion, my own unease and Chipper rustling his way into the room.
My mind spun in its own version of dizziness, I would be expected to discover Gavin’s killer, solve the case, restore order in the club, and root out the maimer of a good man.
It was time for action.
I gathered my thoughts, the words that meant the most, poison, pallor, unease and haste.
It was time for some serious thinking.
I ordered a large gun and tonic and noticed that barman, Jack Hastings, a man with a very mean and hungry look, took some time to mix my drink after dissolving a white powder into it.
He claimed it was vanilla powder, but I saw through his scheme immediately, I now had incontrovertible evidence of his guilt.
The only thing he and Gavin Banister ever had in common was the same lifeless pallor in death.