Murder in the Great Hall

[Panache]

As usual, interacting with the…eccentric Mr. Wompet left me at a loss for words.

As he retreated emitting woofs and growls at the rest of the assemble guests I couldn’t help but think that being under observation at the hospital did have its advantages.

I considered the nice firm beds, peace and quiet, everything being clean and white, nurses that seemed to have your well being at stake, the reassuring soft beeping of various machines letting you know that everything was working , the food…

I grimaced at the thought

…well the opportunity to lose a little extra weight was always a good thing.

Overall the experience would have certainly been less disappointing than this party and encounters with my former business partners.

sigh

I picked up my glass with the small consolation that good people at the Tanqueray and Martini and Rossi never disappointed .

I sipped it and found the Gibson to have an odd bitter taste.

sigh




Bitter?




There was a sudden odd constriction within my throat and I began to choke.

The cocktail glass fell to the marble floor where it shattered as my hands clawed at my throat.

I couldn’t seem to get any air!

My vision began to narrow and a darken and I saw everything through a red mist.

My body began to tremble and thrash about as I struggled to speak.

As if from very far away I heard myself cry:


“The drink…poisoned… someone here... wants me... dead…”



Then darkness enveloped me and the rest was silence