Today we’re going to play around with the mystery genre not using more than 150 words.
A BROKEN VASE
A MUSSED UP RUG
A SHOPPING BAG
It was the crash of the vase that brought everyone rushing into the living room. The vase lay in a thousand pieces; the three daisies it had housed lying on the mussed up rug.
But it was the knife that immediately drew our attention. It was between Carstair’s shoulder blades. Carstairs’ demise had added to the mussed up nature of the rug.
The fact that no one liked Carstairs and liked him even less in death was inconsequential. The poor guy was dead. His shopping bag and contents scattered to every corner of the room.
We looked about at each other knowing there was only us in the house. In front of us was a killer.
I knew it wasn’t me, I don’t kill people with knives, more your axe murderer these days.
The guilty one was Georgia. It had to be. She had that look about her.