Crime, Mysteries & Thrillers discussion

She was totally confused on how to cope up and get out of it. Though she knew that she has been thinking of coming out of the painful grip of Eric but has never been able to do it so far, but she decided, enough is enough!

Annabelle saved numbers in her cell like some people save the same beautiful pebbles on the shore she was now standing on. With this newfound courage, she confidently scrolled through her list of numbers, dreading, yet oddly excited by, the one she finally tapped, the one safely hidden for several months.

She was surprised why she never tapped this number earlier and how come it got missed being so important, that too for so long; for so many months. She was wondering whether it will be appropriate to dial this number now or shall she delete it forever and forget that she was carrying this number ever in her mobile.

The officers stern look reminded her to keep her mouth shut. She didn't kill that lying waste of flesh, though he rightfully deserved it.

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"Besides me? My father."

"My Father blamed him for my illness, as he called it. " she sighed.
"You mean your breakdown, dear... " Miss Marple said softly, " your anorexia."

"Susie would more likely have killed you than him," Miss Marple pointed out. "No, I think this requires further investigation into your father's activities during the past few days."

"Okay dear," said Miss Marple. "I will pay a visit to Eric's butler and Susie; think positive thoughts--I will get you out of here."

"In the mean time, please eat something." Miss Marple said sweetly, " for me? "
Annabelle looked down, and shook her head, " I don't know if I can, I'm too upset."

At that, Miss Marple was on her way. She would investigate the butler and Susie, but she was becoming suspicious that Annabelle did, in fact, do it.

"That is fine Miss Marple. Please take a seat; the reading will begin shortly."

"Please have a seat," said the butler as he guided Miss Marple to a green leather arm chair. As Miss Marple sat down, she studied the others guests in the room.

An hour flew by, Annabelle and the solicitor arriving together, which raised eyebrows. 'To Annabelle, who said I'd never remember her in my will,' the solicitor began reading, 'hello, Annabelle.'

The solicitor headed to the desk in the front of the room. As he reached into his briefcase the door opened, and a dark-haired man walked into the room taking the last seat near the door.

The dark haired man was unusually short in height. He was wearing a cowboy hat and had an unlit cigar pressed tightly between his lips.

'My name Is Roger Bunny And I am here to produce evidences that all this huge property owned By Eric is actually in the name of my daughter' , he growled and threw a large bunch of stamped papers on the table. He looked a little puzzled with his moving all around as if he was searching for someone he was sure to find there.

When Roger Bunny's eyes landed on Annabelle, they widened in surprise.

"You!", he exclaimed, "what are you doing here?".

Roger Bunny trembled as Annabelle held his gaze with a murderous look and a barely perceptible shake of the head; she silently mouthed the word 'no'.

"Please, Inspector Morse, arrest me...now!"

The solicitor looked up from the papers, quivering in his hand, and when his eyes fell onto Annabelle's face his features took on such sadness.

Feebly, he cleared his voice, before pulling himself to his full height and exclaiming with forced aplomb, "You have all been brought here today under false pretense."

The solicitor continued: "The will is currently missing. We have been unable to locate it and hoped that by gathering you all in one location we could finally learn who took it."

A collective gasp escaped the motley group and suspicious glances were shared between them. From a darkened corner of the room a voice rang out, "The truth is really quite obvious."

The room fell silent. All eyes turning to Annabelle as she rose from her chair, turning to the elderly man who had just spoken.

The elderly man, sitting in a high-backed armchair in the corner, held an extinguished pipe in one hand, and a walking stick in the other. His aqualine nose gave him a distinguished profile, naturally, since he was none other than Sherlock Holmes himself!

Annabelle, unaware of the reputation of Sherlock Holmes, opened her purse and reapplied her lipstick. The small mirror she was holding allowed her to check out the person behind her.

She saw it was the evil henchman and fingered her hidden dagger hidden in her bracelet. Then she turned and bent down, hoping not to be noticed.

What Sherlock didn't know was that Annabelle didn't need saving. She'd known all along she was being followed and her beauty easily hid her stupendous strength, agility, and dagger.

Reaching into her coat to liberate her dagger, Annabelle heard feet quickly traversing the pavement some meters behind her. She quickly ducked into a crevice between two building, waiting for the person to pass.

But, the person did not pass. It was a friend who had not seen her for a long time.

Grace Dihooly, who used to work in the cubicle next to hers at the insurance company, years ago, stopped short and exclaimed, "Annabelle! What in the world are you doing in this neighborhood?" Before Annabelle could respond, Grace Dihooly clutched at her coat and sank to the pavement.

An icy tongue of terror licked up her spine, her eyes locked on the syringe between Grace's shoulder blades. "Help!" shrieked Annabelle. "Someone, help!"

But, no help was available. Not many people used this alley.

As Annabelle turned to run to the street she was blocked by a man who seemed to appear from nowhere.
He hid his hand, and what it contained, from her as he smiled and said, "Hello, Annabel."

"Hello, Daddy. What are you doing here?"

Annabelle's father gripped her arm, shaking her until she quieted. "Come along now, " he said as he yanked her toward the car idling at the curb.

Annabel resisted, fighting the iron grip on her arm, until all at once she saw the figure sitting in the passenger seat. It was a middle aged woman she recognised instantly: her mother, who's grave she had tossed a handful of dirt into five years before.

"Mommy, dearest, why aren't you dead?", she asked.
"I was never dead like you thought, Annabel." came the reply.

Thoroughly confused, Annabelle climbed into the back of the limousine next to her mother. "I'll explain later," Antoinette Debussy said, wrapping her mink coat around herself more tightly.

Then, she nodded to the driver and they drove off. Annabelle had no idea what lie ahead for her.

She only knew it couldn't be good. Suddenly she was very very afraid.

"I thought you had died, Mother!" Annabelle said, her eyes darting around the car, searching in vain for an avenue of escape. "No,fortunately, you didn't succeed in killing me," her mother told her.

I instantly saw red! "After all I've done for you?"

"Hey you two," said Annabel's father as he eased the car onto the freeway, "stop arguing. Now we're all back together it's time we finished what we started."

My father ignored me and turned to my mother instead. "Did you get it?" He asked.

"Well, you can drop me off at the hotel" Annabelle replied. All the while knowing full well that that would not be what would happen.

"Don't be ridiculous! You're coming with us!"

Now, Annabelle believed that she was in trouble. Was there anyway out of this?

Without forethought, Annabelle jumped from the moving car and tumbled across the busy road. After crawling to her feet, she shielded her eyes when blinding white light barreled straight at her.

"David, help me!" she cried. "I've got to get out of here!"

"Hop in here, then." David replied. "I'm sure I saw your parents around here somewhere earlier."

"I'll catch up with them later," I assured him. "Right now I need you to take me to the airport."