Kiling Joey by Elle
Summary:

In which Hilda and Rosalie attempt to murder Joey, not caring who gets killed in the crossfire.  With apologies to Leslie for the death of Nell.


Categories: St Clare's House Characters: Con Maynard, Frieda (Mensch) von Ahlen, Hilda Annersley, Jack Maynard, Jo (Bettany) Maynard, Kathie Ferrars, Len Maynard, Margot Maynard, Marie (von Eschenau) von und zu Wertheim, Mary-Lou Trelawney, Nancy Wilmot, Nell Wilson, Reg Entwistle, Rosalie Dene
School Period: Future
School Name: Chalet School
Genre: Humour
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 11 Completed: Yes Word count: 9637 Read: 29911 Published: 05 Jul 2011 Updated: 05 Jul 2011

1. Chapter 1 by Elle

2. Chapter 2 by Elle

3. Chapter 3 by Elle

4. Chapter 4 by Elle

5. Chapter 5 by Elle

6. Chapter 6 by Elle

7. Chapter 7 by Elle

8. Chapter 8 by Elle

9. Chapter 9 by Elle

10. Chapter 10 by Elle

11. Chapter 11 by Elle

Chapter 1 by Elle

Hilda Annersley leant back into her chair and valiantly resisted the urge to pick up her paper knife and throw it at Mrs Maynard’s back as she disappeared through the door. The compulsion was too much for her, she seized the knife and hurled it with as much force as possible. Sadly the door swung closed and the knife failed to bury itself in Joey’s retreating back. Instead it buried itself in the door. Seething with anger Hilda got up, and tried to pull it out. However such was the force of her throw she was unable to move it, even when she placed both feet against the door and put her whole weight behind it.

Suddenly the door sprang open, slamming Hilda into the wall. Rosalie Dene stomped into the room spitting blood. With as much dignity as she could muster, Hilda, also spitting blood as a result of splitting her lip, stood up and said “Rosalie my dear, what ever is the matter?”

“That woman!”  yelled Rosalie, “ If she comes in here offering me her idiotic advice one more time I am going to punch her lights out!”

“Rosalie!”

“I mean it! She swans in here thinking she is Lady sodding Bountiful, just because she was the first pupil at the school, coming in here, dispensing gratuitous advice, like she knows anything about running a damn school!”

“But…”

“Don’t you ‘But Rosalie’ me! You hate her as much as I do! And almost as much as Madge does, she left the country rather than stay within 100 miles of Josephine sodding Maynard!”

“Ro…”

“Don’t say it!” warned Rosalie, “That woman has to go! If I have to kill her myself she will never set foot in the Chalet School again!”

Realising that Rosalie was too insanely angry to speak, Hilda turned to the portable blackboard against the wall of her study, and spun it round. Across the top, in bold chalk was written, “Killing Joey – Possible Ways.”

Rosalie’s mouth fell open with shock.

Rosalie ran her finger nail down the side of the blackboard as she scanned the list. Ignoring Hilda’s wince at the stomach curling sound she was producing she murmured comments to herself, “Not bad… Hmmm, not sure about that one… Ha! I like it!… Ohhh…” The scraping nail paused in its perusal of the board, and began to tap.

“You like those ideas?” smiled Hilda.

“Oh yes,” replied Rosalie, the sound of evil dripping from every word, “especially this one,” The finger tapped again.

Hilda craned her head to see which of the extensive list of ways to kill Joey that Rosalie had chosen, “Ah! That one, good isn’t it?”

“Yes, and it kills two birds with one stone. What ever made you think of this way?”

“You remember the last sale?” shuddered Hilda.

“Vividly,” replied Rosalie shutting her eyes.

“This is my revenge.”

“Would you like some help in implementing it?” said Rosalie opening her eyes and looking round at Hilda.

“They do say two heads are better than one,” grinned Hilda.

“Then lets get to work, and if it succeeds there will be two less heads on the Gornetz Platz.”   The two women laughed evilly as they hurried off to find Gaudenz’s carpentry set.

Chapter 2 by Elle

The delegation of prefects filed in an orderly fashion out of Miss Annersley’s study. A casual observer would not have noticed anything unusual about the group, but a more perspicacious observer would have spotted some signs of confusion on their shiny faces. They walked in silence towards the prefect’s room and broke the news about the sale to the remaining assembled prefects. The news was greeted by a profound silence, which was eventually broken by Emmy-Lou Maynard.

“They want us to have what as a sale?”

“A French Revolution theme,” repeated the Head Girl.

“Why?”

“Err… we are not quite sure,” replied one of the Elliot twins, although nobody was quite sure which twin it was (in fact for a whole term nobody had realised there were actually two of them, a clerical error meant that only one of the twins had been entered for the Chalet School. This mistake had been discovered by a lowly Middle, who on accidentally blacking the eye of one of the twins, then spotted the other who did not have a black eye. Naturally Mrs Maynard had claimed all the credit for their discovery).

“We think,” added the second Elliot twin, “that Miss Annersley and Miss Dene felt that the last sale was a little too Mrs Maynard orientated.”

“You mean the My Bruno and Other Animals sale?”

“Yes… they did comment on that, they said it wasn’t really fair that Bruno should have won all the pet prizes, especially the obedience prize.”

“He’s very obedient!” cried Emmy-Lou.

“He flattened the judge!”

“And he and Mary-Lou Trelawney should not have won the best guinea pig shown by a student category,” added another Elliot (they were, in fact, triplets but so far nobody had discovered this).

“I mean, Mary-Lou is hardly a student, she is 40 if she is a day!”

“Anyway, I don’t see what is wrong with a Books of Josephine M Bettany Sale.”

“Well Miss Annersley obviously does, and she and Miss Dene suggested the French Revolution as an alternative. In fact, they have promised to provide their own stall for it,” said the Head Girl firmly.

“Well, lets get planning,” said one of the Elliots, “We should make this the most interesting sale yet!” She little realised how prophetic her words were to be.
 
Miss Annersley and Miss Dene strolled serenely though the pre-sale chaos. They admired each inventive stall, the lucky dip was based upon the carriage the French royal family had tried to escape to Austria in., Tom Gay had sent a model of the Bastille, the prize was to guess how many prisoners were incarcerated within. But the pieces de resistance were the two fully functioning model guillotines. The two women surveyed them with pride.

“If it works, it will be worth all that back breaking work,” muttered Hilda.

“It will work,” replied Rosalie firmly, “Now, lets go over the plan one more time.”

“When Joey and Mary-Lou arrive at the sale I will greet them graciously as if Joey had never dared to correct my knowledge of the French Revolution,” said Hilda.

“I will hover by the guillotines,” added Rosalie.

“When I lead Joey and Mary-Lou towards you, you knock out the support pegs which will then enable the blades to descend fully.”

“Joey and Mary-Lou will insert their heads, the blade will fall, and ‘bye bye’!”

“Here they come! Oh hell, she has brought that wretched dog with her too!” Hilda hurried over to greet the school’s foundation stone, and the pain who had inherited her mantle.

“Hilda!” cried Joey airily as Bruno leapt up at the dignified Head Mistress, “Why a French Revolution Sale? Why not a Napoleonic sale? That way I could have helped more. You know it’s my period of history”

Hilda smiled thinly as she attempted to fend off the amorous attentions of Bruno.

“Or you could have done an archaeology sale,” butted in Mary-Lou.

“Perhaps you would like to view the sale we have produced?” said Hilda acidly, and she slowly began to lead them to the guillotines which were doing a roaring trade.

Unfortunately for Hilda and Rosalie they had not taken Bruno into their plans. Smelling the scent of cake drifting from the “Have they no bread?” stall, he made a bid for freedom, at the same time as Rosalie knocked out the pegs from the guillotines. Instead of laying their heads above the baskets, Joey and Mary-Lou rushed after Bruno. Miss Wilson and Miss Ferrars took their place at the guillotine. The little middle, dressed as a Sans Culotte, with a red cap, pulled a lever and the blades descended.

Chapter 3 by Elle

Hilda and Rosalie, both dressed in the deepest mourning, sat at the back of the Chapel, as Joey waxed lyrical at the front. Neither woman was paying any attention to what Joey was saying, they were both deep in their own thoughts, although the occasional sentence penetrated their musings.

“I was already at the Chalet School when Nell was appointed… nearly slayed her myself at one sale… Named Len after her…”

“The problem was that there were too many variables involved,” hissed Rosalie suddenly, “We need to get her somewhere alone,”

“Idea number 12,” replied Hilda after a moments thought.

“Which one was that?”

“The one with the cliff.”

“Did it involve Joey falling off?”

“Basically.”

“We have a new plan then,” smiled Rosalie.


Once more the two women plotted the finer details of Joey’s imminent demise. A spot on a nearby mountain was chosen, the rocks carefully worked loose, some casual, yet pointy, pieces of wood were left pointing upwards on the shelf beneath. Finally, only one problem remained – that of luring Joey up to the cliff and pushing her over. After some days hard thought (in which several timetables got mixed up with a variety of diagrams and were only rescued from being distributed to the girls by Hilda, who was slightly more on the ball) Rosalie had an idea.

“Eureka!” yelled Rosalie bursting into Hilda’s study, “I’ve got it!”

Hilda jumped guilty, and dropped the thing she was holding in her hands, “Why can’t you just knock like a normal person?” she asked frostily, as she hurriedly stooped to pick up the shattered remains of the object.

“What on earth is that?” asked Rosalie, momentarily forgetting the reason why she had burst into the study.

“Um… well… its an…. Um…” stuttered Miss Annersley.

Rosalie looked closer at the remains, “It’s a voodoo doll! You have made a voodoo doll of Joey! I like the ear phones! But surely you don’t expect it to work?”

Hilda blushed, “Well, not really, but… well… stabbing it with pins does relieve the tension somewhat.”

Rosalie grinned, “I know what you mean, I have embroidered Joey’s face on a cushion, simply so I can punch it!”

The two women looked at each other sheepishly, “Anyway, what was it you wanted to tell me?” asked Hilda breaking the silence.

“I know how to get Joey to the cliff edge,” said Rosalie handing Hilda a piece of paper.

Hilda scanned her eyes down it, “Rosalie, you are a genius, take a pay rise.”

 

“Could I have an assistant too?” asked Rosalie.

 

“Don’t push it!” said Hilda glaring at her.

 

With Bruno at her side Joey hurried up the mountain, in her hand she clutched a crumpled piece of paper. Pausing to catch her breath, she unfolded the paper and began to read it for the nineteenth time.

“Dear Mrs Maynard,

I am sorry to have to approach you in this fashion but I have discovered a terrible secret about the Elliot twins. I cannot think of anyone else I can confide in but you. I have read your books so many times and I am such a fan. Mrs Maynard please will you help me solve my dilemma. Could you meet me up the Jungfrau at 6.30, by the lightening struck tree? Please bring Bruno, as I may need something warm to hold on to.

Yours truly,

A Middle’

As she continued up the mountain Joey racked her brain trying to work out which girl was A Middle. Whilst she could come up with plenty of names beginning with A, she couldn’t think of a single Chalet girl who had the surname ‘Middle’. She was looking forwards to finding out the secret of the Elliot twins, so that she could then reveal it to the astounded Mistresses, who would then bow down before her in respect and awe.

Panting heavily she finally reached her destination; she looked about her, but could not see A Middle anywhere. Glancing at her watch Joey realised she was a few minutes early and sat down to wait, Bruno tugging impatiently at the lead. It was very peaceful.

Crouched in the bushes nearby Hilda and Rosalie were silently congratulating themselves on the success of their plan so far. Rosalie handed Hilda a sealed box containing some of Karen’s famed meatballs. Prying the lid off Hilda and Rosalie waited for the smell to reach Bruno’s questing nose. It did not take long, Bruno sat up and gave an exited wuff. Joey looked up also, had Bruno scented A Middle approaching?

Hilda threw the meatballs as hard and fast as she could towards the cliff edge, Bruno charged, dragging Joey, who was still holding the lead towards the cliff edge. With an ear-splitting cry Joey and Bruno vanished over the edge of the cliff.

Hilda and Rosalie crawled out of the bushes, brushed themselves down and shook hands.

“That should have done the trick,” said Hilda.

“Magnificently,” said Rosalie, “Lets go and have a celebratory gin and tonic.”

The two women walked off arm in arm, and were soon far away from the cliff and so were oblivious to the events taking place there.

Chapter 4 by Elle

Hilda and Rosalie returned to the Chalet school mildly sozzled some hours later. They were greeted by an over exited Nancy Wilmot.

“Have you heard the news?” she cried.

“News?” said Hilda faking innocence, “What news are you talking about?”

“The news about Joey!”

“Not busy again is she?” asked Rosalie trying not to giggle.

“No, she has escaped from a terrible accident by the skin of her teeth!”

“What?” cried Hilda and Rosalie in horror.

“Yes! Bruno dragged her over a cliff, but luckily she landed on him, rather than on some rather nasty pointy sticks! Then she was rescued by a passing group of mountaineering doctors!”

“And Bruno?” asked a white faced Hilda.

“Dead,” said Nancy sadly, “But Joey is planning the funeral for next week, and she has invited the whole school.”

“I need another gin,” said Rosalie weakly.

“So do I,” replied Hilda heading towards her study.

“But don’t you want to go to tea with Joey and hear her thrilling tale?” asked Nancy.

“No.”

 

Later than night a sharp eyed middle might have spotted a dark figure was gliding softly through the corridors towards the Head’s bedroom, clutching something in their hands. The figure tapped softly at the door, “Hilda? Hilda? Are you awake?” whispered Rosalie quietly. Silence was the only reply. She tapped a little louder and was rewarded by a startled grunt.

“Grnenen… wha?”

“It is I, Rosalie, let me in.”

“Wha?”

Rosalie opened the door and slipped inside, “I have a new plan,” she said waving the package under Hilda’s nose.

“Wha’sat?” said Hilda sleepily.

“Chocolate!”

Hilda sat up promptly, “Well why didn’t you say so sooner,” she asked, holding out her hand.

“Not for you, idiot! Joey!”

“Why?”

“We poison them! I have the poison all ready,” and she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bottle of rat poison, “I pinched it from Gaudenz earlier.”

“How do we get the chocolates to Joey?” asked Hilda.

“Nancy will be going to visit Joey tomorrow, we simply leave them for Nancy to take.”

“Excellent plan, lets do it!”

The two women set about poisoning the chocolates, then they stuck on a large label addressed to Joey and Rosalie slipped into Nancy’s room and left them on the bedside table. Then she and Hilda retired to their own beds for the rest of the night to dream of a world without Mrs Maynard.

 

Nancy turned over in bed and gazed blearily at her little alarm clock, her eyes widened in shock, it was almost half past nine and she was due at Freudsheim at ten. Leaping out of bed she dashed to the sink, had quick wash, dressed, ate some biscuits which she had stashed in a drawer and rushed out of her room, without noticing the chocolates.

When she arrived at Freudsheim she found everyone in a state of chaos. It would appear that Jack Maynard had decided his wife ought to see a specialist and was whisking her off to London that very day. Nancy stayed only long enough to hear Joey’s thrilling account of the accident, and then Joey and Jack set off for England, where they were to stay for several weeks.

Nancy walked slowly back to the school wondering what to do with the rest of her day. She had planned to spend the whole day with Joey, but this was obviously no longer possible. Instead she decided to return to her room and read a trashy novel which she had recently confiscated from a naughty middle.

Nancy settled down on her bed with a comfortable sigh, and it was then her eyes fell upon the chocolates. She read the label and saw they were addressed to Joey.

“Here’s a problem,” she said to herself, “Joey and Jack already on the way to London, so there is no way I can get the chocolates to her, and by the time they get back the chocolates will have gone mouldy. I’d better eat them!”

Nancy sat back, opened the chocolates, selected one, popped it into her mouth and began to read. Soon she reached for another, then another, then another.

Chapter 5 by Elle

In London, Jack got off the telephone white faced and shaking. The news about Nancy only confirmed his suspicions. He decided not to mention the news to his wife, in case it upset her delicate constitution, instead he rang an old friend and arranged to meet him for tea at the Ritz.

“The thing is old chap, I’m frightfully worried about Joey, I think someone is trying to kill her.”

His friend delicately sipped his drink, taking care to keep his splendid moustaches clear of the liquid.

“Joey hasn’t an enemy in the world!” he continued, “Everyone loves her, and yet I really do think that she is in danger.”

“Really?” murmured his friend, “And what causes you to think that?”

Jack recounted the narrow escapes which Joey had experienced, finishing up with the death of Nancy Wilmot from eating poisoned chocolates intended for his wife.

“You have to help me!” finished up Jack with an impassioned plea, “You must return to the Gornetz Platz with Joey and I and attempt to solve this mystery.”

“My dear Jack, I have plans to retire into the country and attempt the growing of vegetable marrows.”

“Please! My wife is in danger, I need you to help me.”

“My dear Jack, if Madame Maynard is really in danger, I, using my little grey cells will be able to find the truth. I will accompany you and Madame Maynard to Switzerland, and establish who is behind these so terrible attempts on her life.”

“Thank you! Thank you” cried Jack, leaping up and shaking his friend by the hand. Suddenly he paused, “Hang on… surely that cannot be, no, I am mistaken. Come my friend, you must meet Joey.”

The two men stood ready to leave the Ritz, “Excuse me, mon ami,” said Jack’s companion, and the dapper little man hurried across the room and spoke quietly to one of the waiters, then he hurried back to Jack, attracting some stares as he did so.

“Everything ok old chap?” asked Jack.

“Of course!” replied his friends, “A mere query, it may be nothing. But now, take me to meet Madame Maynard, and if I do not solve the mystery of the attempts on her life then my name is not Hercules Poirot, grandson of the great Hercule Poirot!”


Poirot, Jack and Joey arrived back in Switzerland, Poirot was white faced and shaking after sharing a five hour plane journey with Joey, “And Monsieur Maynard says she has no enemies! How can that be?”

They arrived at the Platz to find the whole of the Chalet School waiting to greet them. Bruno’s body had been brought out of the deep freeze in preparation for the funeral.

“That is the dog of Madame Maynard? The one which so nearly killed her going over the cliff?”

“That’s the one,” replied Jack, “We have no idea what caused him to do that?”

“You permit that I examine the dog?”

“By all means Poirot!”

Poirot stepped forwards and examined Bruno from the tip of his tail, to his once shiny black nose, “Ah ha!” he exclaimed, “Please lend me your pen knife!”

Jack willingly handed it over and watched fascinated as Poirot used it to pry open Bruno’s massive jaws. Reaching into the mouth Poirot removed something round and brown.

“It is a good thing you had the body frozen, here we have the reason why Bruno took that leap off the cliff that day.”

“Why! It’s one of Karen’s meatballs!” cried Jack in surprise, “Can Karen be plotting to kill my wife?”

“Non!” replied Poirot emphatically, “Why would she use something that could so easily be traced back to her? Non, we must look further a field for our potential killer.”

 

The funeral for Bruno took place the following day. Joey, dressed from head to foot in deepest continental mourning, was followed to the grave by a selection of girls from the school (that these girls contained the Elliot quads completely passed most people by). Also present were several members of the Maynard family, including Len and her husband Reg, and also Margot, who had been released from her convent for the occasion.

Walking slowly back to the school, in keeping with the gravity of the situation, Hilda and Rosalie put their heads together to discuss what to do next.

“I think we should give it one more try and then give up, the wretched woman seems indestructible,” said Rosalie.

“But what can we do, the remaining plans are, I admit somewhat far fetched, and probably wouldn’t work. Also I am slightly concerned that more people may accidentally die as a result of our efforts to dispose of Joey.”

“There is one more thing we could try,” suggested Rosalie.

“Which is?”

“Shoot her,” replied Rosalie calmly.

“Shoot her!” echoed Hilda in surprise.

“Shhhhh!” hissed Rosalie.

“Where will we get the gun?” demanded Hilda in a slightly lower voice.

“Leave that to me. Now we had better change the subject until it is safer to discuss it.”

“Indeed. Did you notice that funny little man with Jack at the funeral?”

“Yes, he sounded French.”

“Why do you think he is here?”

“He looked like a hairdresser to me – those huge moustaches.”

“Exactly. But why would they bring a hairdresser back to the Platz with them?”

“Maybe Joey has finally realised she needs a new haircut.”

The two women entered the school, and thus moved out of earshot of the fifth Elliot (thus proving them to be in fact quins) who had been listening intently from the bushes.

Chapter 6 by Elle

A family dinner was taking place at Freudsheim. Despite the solemnity of the occasion Joey was delighted to have so many members of her family with her, as well as a distinguished guest. She regaled them unendingly with tales of her life at the Chalet school, until even Poirot was seen to yawn. During a momentary pause in Joey’s monologue (when her mouth was full of one of Anna’s delectable lemon biscuits), he turned to Jack and said, “Mon ami, who were those six charming looking identical girls I saw at the funeral today?”

Joey spluttered lemon biscuit crumbs all over the table, “Six identical girls? What are you talking about Monsieur Poirot? There are only two identical girls at the Chalet School at the moment, and those are the Elliot twins. You must have been mistaken.”

Poirots moustaches waggled violently, “I am never mistaken Madame,” he said firmly, “I saw six identical girls.”

“You did not!” snapped Joey, “I have the monopoly on multiple births at the Chalet School, and so far nobody has beaten my triplets!”

“Is that so?” murmured the great detective.

At that moment the phone rang, Jack leapt up from the table and answered it, “Hello…Yes, speaking…Urgent?… Of course I will be on my way at once.” He put the phone down, “That was the San,” he said, “I’m needed at once on an urgent case, major operation, I’ll probably have to stay the night. I must go at once. Poirot, would you like me to drop you at the pension where you are to stay?”

“Merci, that would be very kind. Thank you for the delightful dinner Madame,” and Poirot and Jack left.

They were followed shortly by Reg and Len, leaving only Margot and Joey to retire to bed. “I miss Bruno in the evenings,” said Joey, “He was such a comfort to me when Jack is at the San.”

Margot patted her mother’s hand, “I know. Shall I make you a nice mug of hot milk to take to bed?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Neither woman noticed the figure outside, concealed in a bush.

 

It was quarter to seven in the morning and all was quiet on the Platz, when Margot tapped gently on her mothers door with an early morning cup of tea.

 

“Mamma? Are you awake?” Margot frowned, “Mamma?”

 

 Margot pushed open the door and stepped inside the room. To her horror Joey lay on the bed, still, grey and to all appearance dead. Margot looked at the empty glass of milk on the bedside table, reached out and picked it up. She then stepped out of the room and headed into the bathroom, where she emptied the cup of tea down the sink and rinsed out the glass. She then returned to the bedroom, replaced the glass on the bedside table, stared at the corpse, opened her mouth and began screaming as loudly as she could.

 

Her screams reached Anna in the kitchen, who rushed into the room clutching a plate of lemon biscuits in her hand. She caught sight of the body on the bed, “Danke!” she said softly, rushed to the window and threw the lemon biscuits out of it and then catching Margot’s eye joined in the screaming.

 

 Joey sat up with a start of surprise, "Anna! Margot! What on earth do you think you are doing, waking me up like this? What happened to the old idea of singing me awake? Where is my morning cup of tea?"

 

"MMmmmaaammama?" spluttered Margot in some shock, Anna was beyond words.

 

"What?" asked the irate Joey.

 

"Didn't you drink your milk?" said Margot when she could finally speak again.

 

"Or eat your lemon biscuit?" asked Anna, who had also regained her powers of speech.

 

"Anna, if you had cleaned the table properly after dinner you would have seen that I did not eat my biscuit thanks to Monsier Poirot pretending that there were seven Elliot twins. Margot, I only drink milk prepared by your father, there is something about the way he makes it, but it helps me sleep, yours I threw down the sink."

 

Seeing that Margot and Anna were once again rendered speechless, Joey rose from her bed, opened her curtains, and flung open the window. She was just taking a lungful of the wonderful Swiss air when a shot rang out. Joey fell to the floor, still, grey and to all appearances dead. Margot and Anna looked at each other and once more began to scream.

 

Hercules Poirot gazed down at the rapidly cooling corpse of Mrs Maynard, in a corner Jack Maynard wept uncontrollably. He examined the bullet hole which was situated right between Joey's eyebrows.

 

"They were a good shot, the person who fired the bullet that killed Madame Maynard," he observed thoughtfully. "Mon ami, who on the Platz is a good shot with a gun? Who has perhaps had training in the use of weapons?"

 

Jack paused in his weeping for a moment, and after few attempts managed to say "Rosalie Dene, secretary at the school, maybe a few doctors who served in the war... I don't know..."

 

"Madamoiselle Dene? Why does she know how to use guns?"

 

"During the war, she used to patrol the school grounds in case of spies."

 

"I see," said Poirot thoughtfully, "And does she have her own gun?"

 

"I don't know," said Jack breaking into sobs once more.

Chapter 7 by Elle

Hilda scurried through the rabbit warren of corridors which made up the Chalet School. She was searching for Rosalie Dene, but could not find her anywhere, she appeared to have vanished. On the other hand, if she could not find Rosalie she did keep finding the Elliot twins. It seemed to Hilda that there were twelve of them, not two. Finally she tracked Rosalie down in her office.

 

"Where have you been?" they both said at the same time, "I have been looking for you everywhere."

 

"What?" they replied to each other, "But I have been searching for you!"

 

"How did you do it?" they asked.

 

"Do what?"

 

"Kill Joey without me."

 

 "But I didn't," they answered each other, "You did it by yourself."

 

"Stop!" yelled Hilda.

 

"Enough," cried Rosalie.

 

"Did you, or did you not shoot Joey dead this morning?" Hilda asked Rosalie.

 

 "No, I assumed it was you," came Rosalie's reply, "I was annoyed you didn't invite me along."

 

Hilda was about to reply when there was knock at the door. Both women went white.

 

Without uttering a single word Hilda jumped out of the window and Rosalie dived under the desk. The door opened. The naughty middle that had been sent to Hilda for a sound telling off breathed a sigh of relief and slipped away again. Rosalie appeared from under the desk and Hilda struggled back in through the window.

 

"Who was it?" asked Hilda

 

"Only a naughty middle," replied Rosalie, trying to remove her foot from the bin.

 

"Thank God," said Hilda, "I thought for one moment it was going to be the police." There was another knock at the door. The two women looked at each other.

 

"How bad can it be?" said Rosalie, "Ok, we planned to kill Joey, but we didn't actually do it."

 

"We did push her off a cliff though, and accidentally kill Bill, Kathie and Nancy.  I feel bad about Bill," said Hilda sadly.

 

The knock came again, slightly more insistent.

 

"Just look through the keyhole for me Rosalie," Rosalie bent down a peered through, "It's that French chap, the one Joey an Jack brought back from England, the one who looks like a hairdresser."

 

"I wonder what he wants? Let him in."

 

Poirot turned round and walked off, just before Rosalie opened the door. he was frowning, he was sure he had seen Hilda and Rosalie enter the study, but it seemed they were not there. It was a mystery, and Poirot did not like mysteries. He headed back to Freudsheim thoughtfully. As he arrived a thought struck him, and he hurried into Jack's study to make a phone call. However somebody was already using the phone.

 

"So you see my darling," said the black robed figure, "With Mama out of the way, all our plans will work, all we have to do now is..."

 

Poirot coughed. Margot, for it was she, dropped the phone in horror. Poirot picked up the phone and spoke into the receiver, "It is alright Monsieur Entwhistle, I merely made Sister Margot jump. She will speak to you later." He turned to Margot, "So, when did you leave the convent and why are you still pretending to be a Nun?"

 

"How did you know?" gasped Margot.

 

"I saw you and Monsieur Entwhistle lunching in the Ritz last week, you were not dressed as a Nun then."

 

Margot sat down in Jack's chair, opened his middle draw and removed a bottle of whiskey and a glass, she raised her eyebrows at Poirot who shook his head, so she poured herself a generous measure of the spirit and said, "Well, I had better confess then."

 

But before Margot could begin her confession the door swung open and in strode the Mary-Lou. "Ah, there you are Poirot!" she clarioned, "I've been looking for you. I have returned to the Platz in order to help you bring this evil murderer to justice. I was very close to Auntie Joey and therefore will be invaluable in tracking down the killer!"

 

"Why thank you Madamoiselle," replied Poirot, "However..."

 

"Then its agreed!" she clarioned once more, "Margot, Len was looking for you, I believe she is in the kitchen with Anna."

 

"oh, err, but Monsieur Poirot and I were just about to..."

 

"It can wait," trilled Mary-Lou (which was almost as bad as her clarioning), "Go and find Len, honestly I thought Nuns were trained to obedience. Poirot and I have a lot to discuss. Go!"

 

Faced with the onslaught of Mary-Lou at her worst Margot drained her glass and fled the room, her confession would just have to wait.

 

Mary-Lou strode serenely out of Freudsheim and headed across the garden to the Chalet school. Behind her in the salon, she left a speechless Poirot. Mary-Lou's self possession and assumption that she alone could solve the mystery of Joey's murder had temporarily shut down his little grey cells. Humming softly to herself she opened the gate, whilst reflecting what a good idea of hers it was for Poirot to interview the adults, and leave the girls of the Chalet School to her. As she had inherited Joey's mantle of 'chief butter in' she knew she could get the girls to open up to her. After all, wasn't she the greatest headgirl the school had ever had? A rustle in the bushes caught her attention. A pretty, blond girl stepped into her path.

 

"Hello!" clarioned our one and only, "and who might you be?"

 

The blonde girl said nothing, she merely gazed at Mary-Lou, as if in awe and wonder. "The poor girls is obviously struck dumb by meeting me" thought Mary-Lou, "My name is Mary-Lou," she said clearly, as if speaking to one lacking in intelligence, "And you are...?"

 

The blond girl said nothing. There was another rustle from the bushes and she was joined by another girl, the exact replica of her. "Oh!" clarioned Mary-Lou, "You must be the Elliot twins!"

 

Another clone joined the two girls. "Triplets?"

 

And another. "Quads!?"

 

"Quins?!"

 

"Sextuplets?!"

 

Before she knew what was happening Mary-Lou was surrounded by 20 identical girls. "What are you doing?" she cried, "Did Aunty Joey know about you?" The Elliot girls started to move, Mary-Lou in their midst had not choice but to move with them. "What's going on? Where are you taking me?" Silence was the only reply.

 

 Having finally recovered from the effects of Mary-Lou, Poirot decided to go in search of Margot and find out what it was she wanted to confess, he was sure it was not the murder of her mother. Eventually he tracked her down to the kitchen. However upon entering the kitchen Poirot received another shock, for there, at the kitchen table was not just Margot, but also her sister Len, her brother in law Reg and Anna, the Maynard’s faithful servant. Not only that, but Len was dressed as a Nun, Margot was wearing a short skirt, fishnet tights and a cropped top, and Reg and Anna were holding hands.

 

“But what is this?” Poirot cried.

 

Reg rose to his feet, still clasping Anna’s hand tightly in his own, “It is a long story Monsieur Poirot, but I wish to assure you that despite what you are thinking, non of us are responsible for the death of my mother in law.”

 

“That I am aware of,” replied Poirot serenely, “I shall make known the murderer in due course. Nevertheless I am curious as to how you will explain this!” With a sweeping gesture of his arm Poirot indicated the people sat round the table.

 

“I don’t know how well you knew Joey Maynard,” said Reg, sitting back down, and indicating for Poirot to do the same, “but she had a very forceful personality.”

 

“I was not privileged to know Madame Maynard for long, but oui, she was as you say, a forceful personality.”

 

“Right from the start she knew what she wanted from the triplets, Len was to marry, Margot become a nun and Con to become a writer. She never took into account what the triplets themselves might want.”

 

The other people around the table nodded frenziedly. Margot took up the story, “When Reg arrived at the Platz, it was as if Mamma’s dreams were going to come true. She immediately ear marked him for Len, not taking into consideration what they and others might want. Reg visited Freudesheim regularly, this convinced Mamma that he was in love with Len.”

 

“But I wasn’t!” cried Reg, “On my first visit to Freudesheim I had fallen head over heals for the only woman I could ever want,” he turned and gazed down at Anna, “My love, my one and only,” he murmured.

 

Squeezing Reg’s hand Anna turned to Poirot and said, “Obviously because of the age difference, I am twelve years older than Reg, Frau Maynard would not accept the love Reg and I had for each other. In her eyes it was fine for the man to be older than the woman, Reg is ten years older than Len, but not for the woman. She threatened me with the sack and the ruination of Reg’s career if we did not agree to part.”

 

“Before I knew it, I was married to Len, and not that she isn’t great,” Reg smiled at the nun on his left, “But you really aren’t the marrying type are you?”

 

Len smiled, “Not really.” She then continued the story, “I never wanted to marry Reg, I wanted to be a nun, but Mamma wanted to prove what a good mother she was by having her naughty daughter become the nun. I was destined for Reg.”

 

“But what has happened to Mademoiselle Con?” asked Poirot.

 

“Insane,” said Anna.

 

“Locked in a hospital back in England.” Added Margot, “She took Mamma’s ideas as gospel, she was to be the great writer, but she had no talent for it, and eventually something had to give.”

 

“I am sorry,” said Poirot, “But you, Mademoiselle Margot, if you are no longer a nun, what do you do?”

 

Everyone round the table smirked, “Well, as a matter of fact,” said Margot, “I inherited Mamma’s talent for writing, so I am a writer.”

 

“And what do you write?”

 

More smirks, and this time some giggling too. Poirot raised his eyebrows and his moustaches waggled.

 

“Porn.” replied Margot.

Chapter 8 by Elle

Now what was happening to Mary-Lou? It seemed to her that the number of identical Elliot twins kept changing, sometimes there appeared to be only about twenty, at others there seemed to be more than forty. Mary-Lou opened her mouth to clarion for help, but one of the multiple Elliots seized the opportunity to thrust a small embroidered pin cushion into Mary-Lou's open mouth. The rest of the Elliots began to giggle as Mary-Lou turned very red in the face. To Mary-Lou the giggling was worse than the silent treatment. En mass the Elliots hurried across the cricket pitch, towards a dark and forbidding looking Chalet.

 

Back at the school Hilda and Rosalie were trembling with fear. It had finally been brought to their attention that the little man Jack had brought over from England was not actually a French hairdresser, but was in fact the great detective Poirot. Having received a note from him demanding a meeting, the two women were waiting in Hilda's study.

 

"It's not like we actually killed her," Rosalie said every five minutes.

 

"I know," Hilda was constantly repeating. This monotonous conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, it was Poirot.

 

"Bonjour," he said as he entered the room.

 

"We didn't do it!" shrieked Rosalie.

 

Poirot looked startled, "Fear not Mademoiselle Dene, I know you are not the murderer of Madame Maynard."

 

"We didn't kill anybody!" shrieked Rosalie again.

 

"I'm afraid that is not exactly true," said Poirot politely, "If my calculations are correct then you are responsible for the deaths of Miss Wilson, Miss Ferrars and Miss Wilmot, as a result of your attempts on the life of Madame Maynard."

 

Hilda fixed Poirot with a steely glare, "They were accidents," she said firmly, "and nobody can prove otherwise"

 

"Mais oui," replied Poirot, who had it must be admitted, quailed slightly under the grey eyed gaze, "But I am not here to investigate those deaths, I am here to investigate the death of Madame Maynard."

 

"In that case, we will be willing to help you," said Hilda.

 

"We didn't kill her!" shrieked Rosalie yet again.

 

"Excuse me," murmured Hilda, and turning round she delivered a stinging blow to Rosalies cheek. "He knows we did not kill her, now will you shut up!"

 

"Perhaps, when Mademoiselle Dene has calmed down you would both like to join me in the Saal at Freudesheim tomorrow after breakfast? I intend to make known the murderer then."

 

"With pleasure," replied Hilda.

 

Poirot trotted out of the study, leaving Hilda administering to Rosalie as best she could (this involved shaking and slapping, and eventually, when all else had failed, hitting her with a nearby vase of flowers). Next on his list to visit were the Elliot twins. He had spotted 37 of them heading into a dark, forbidding looking Chalet, just beyond the cricket pitch. Poirot approached it with some trepidation, according to local tradition three evil witches lived there. Summoning his courage in both hands, Poirot knocked at the door. An Elliot twin peeped out at him. "Bonjour, may I come in?" asked Poirot politely.

 

The Elliot stared at him for a moment, and then shrugged, "I suppose, we were expecting you after all."

 

"Bon," said Poirot, as he stepped into the hall. He looked about him, he was surrounded by Elliots, "How many are there of you really?" Poirot asked.

 

"46," said a voice from the crowd.

 

"I see," said Poirot, his moustaches waggling, "And what are your names?"

 

"Alice"

 

"Anne"

 

"Alison"

 

"Anthea"

 

"Ally"

 

"Althea"

 

"Amy"

 

"Amanda"

 

"Arabella"

 

"Angelique"

 

"Alberta"

 

"Anna"

 

"Anastasia"

 

"Angela"

 

"Araminta"

 

"Annabel"

 

"Abigail"

 

"Angelina"

 

"Angel"

 

"Aisha"

 

"Asha"

 

"Andi"

 

"Astrid"

 

"Avril"

 

"April"

 

"Kevin"

 

"Angharad"

 

"Alannah"

 

"Aisling"

 

"Annette"

 

"Avice"

 

"Amelia"

 

"Aileen"

 

"Ailsa"

 

"Alosa"

 

"Adwoa"

 

"Agatha"

 

"Ariadne"

 

"Amna"

 

"Asmahan"

 

"Alia"

 

"Ameera"

 

"Amal"

 

"Alixe"

 

"Aline"

 

"Aminta"

 

Poirot frowned. This was going to be difficult.

Chapter 9 by Elle

'Now,' said Poirot, 'Where are your mothers?'

 

"Mothers?" replied the Elliots innocently.

 

"Oui,"

 

"Oh, our mothers!" said the Elliots in the manner of 46 people suddenly seeing the light. The group divided into two sections, revealing Marie, Frieda and Simone.

 

"Here are our mothers" said the Elliots as one.

 

"We did not kill Joey," said Simone firmly.

 

"Although we wanted to," added Marie.

 

Frieda simply glowered.

 

"We planned a far more subtle revenge for the hours we had to spend listening to her boring conversation."

 

"And for having to pretend to be her best friends," said Marie. Frieda continued to glower.

 

"What was this revenge?" asked Poirot, although he already suspected what the answer would be.

 

"This!" cried Simone, flinging her arm wide and indicating the gathered Elliots, "This is our revenge, cloned replicas of ourselves! All born at the same time, therefore the biggest chalet multiple birth ever! This is better than triplets."

 

"I understand," replied Poirot sympathetically, recalling his multiple birth, chalet school dominated conversations with Joey. "But I am curious, all your girls have names beginning with A, apart from Kevin. Why is this?"

 

Freida burst into tears.

 

"Step forwards Kevin!" cried Simone, ignoring Frieda’s sobbing.

 

"Kevin is... our dirty little secret," said Marie.

 

A stunningly pretty clone stepped forwards. As with the other clones, she had long, curly blonde hair, blue eyes, even white teeth and a misleading angelic face.

 

"But what is wrong with her?" asked Poirot in surprise. Frieda sobbed even louder.

 

"Kevin is Frieda’s creation, her only one," said Simone.

 

"But it went tragically wrong," added Marie.

 

"But how?" "Raise your skirt Kevin," ordered Simone.

 

"Ah," said Poirot, "She is a boy!"

 

Having secured a promise from Marie, Simone and a still sobbing Frieda to be present at Freudesheim for the grand revelation of the murderer the next morning, Poirot trotted out of the dark, forbidding Chalet and headed back to the school. His plan was to gather all suspects in saal and there reveal who was the murderer of Mrs Maynard and their motives behind it. All he needed to do now was track down the missing Mary-Lou. A gentle cough from behind a nearby bush drew his attention.

 

"Bonjour Kevin," said Poirot, as a clone stepped out.

 

"How did you know it was me?" replied the clone, his blonde hair shining in the sun.

 

 "The fact that you still have your skirt raised, I think you can lower it now," said Poirot gently, Kevin did so, a look of relief flashing over his girlish features "So, what have you tell me?" asked Poirot.

 

"I know where Mary-Lou is" replied Kevin, his clear blue eyes twinkling.

 

"Mais oui, of course you do," said Poirot, "For it was you and your clones who kidnapped her."

 

"How did you know that?" demanded Kevin in shock, his voice becoming slightly deeper.

 

"I am the great Poirot!" snapped Poirot, "I know everything!"

 

"Well I hate to argue with the 'great' Poirot," retorted Kevin, an element of sarcasm slipping into his gruff tones, "But as far as I am aware the 'great' Poirot is in fact your grandfather. I mean, how many successful cases have you had?"

 

"I have had many successful cases!" cried Poirot.

 

"Rubbish," replied Kevin, "You have had two, and one of those was an accident." With a roar of rage Poirot hurled himself at Kevin.

 

Kevin ducked, but he was not quick enough, moustaches waggling violently Poirot seized him round the neck and began to throttle him. Kevin tried to kick, but was hampered by his school uniform skirt. Suddenly the pressure was eased, when Kevin finally recovered from the onslaught he was alone. Poirot had vanished, leaving behind only footprints and a false moustache.

 

Mary-Lou's eyes opened slowly, not that it made much difference to them being shut, it was so dark in the room in which she was imprisoned.

 

"Hello?" she attempted a soft clarion.

 

Mary-Lou tried to brush her hair out of her eyes, but discovered she was tied to the chair.

 

"Hello?" she clarioned more loudly. What was she doing there? She remembered being kidnapped by the Elliot twins (all 46 of them), but after that it was a bit of a blur. There had been the horrible torture (girls parading in front of her without hankies, the sounds of people taking hot baths) but then, but then in the night, someone had slipped into her cell, and rescued her. They had led her out of the Elliots Chalet and into another one, and then given her a drink of hot milk. After that Mary-Lou could remember no more, until she woke up, tied to the chair.

 

"Hello!!!!!!" she clarioned once more, this time putting all her efforts into it. This time she heard a reply, but it was not reassuring, in fact it chilled her blood. For the response she got, could be described as nothing more than a spine chilling, insane giggle. Mary-Lou fainted.

 

Chapter 10 by Elle

All the suspects to the murder were gathered in the Saal at Freidsheim, awaiting the arrival of Poirot. Jack was slumped in one corner, a whiskey clasped in his hand, his eyes bloodshot from weeping. Opposite him sat Anna and Reg, still holding hands, Len knelt next to them praying. Also present were Margot, dressed from head to foot in leather, and Hilda and Rosalie, who were tucking into the gin, and some of Anna's lemon biscuits with undisguised glee.

 

"I wonder who the real murderer is," said Hilda, spraying bits of biscuit across the floor.

 

"It wasn't me!" shrieked Rosalie.

 

"Really Rosalie, I thought you had got over this, we know it wasn't you!" snapped Hilda.

 

"Then who was it?" hissed Rosalie, "I mean, who is going to believe us? We did kill Nancy and Kathie and Bruno and... and... who was the other person we killed?"

 

 "Bill."

 

"That’s it! I knew there was one more..." Rosalie trailed off, as she caught Hilda's glare.

 

"I'll have you know that I really regret the death of Bill," said Hilda coldly, "I feel guilty every time I think about it."

 

"But not when you think about the others?" asked Rosalie sweetly.

 

"I'll kill you in a minute," muttered Hilda under her breath.

 

"Really?" smirked Rosalie, "And how exactly will you do that in a room full of witnesses?"

 

"Idea number 76." replied Hilda. Rosalie went white.

 

"Sorry," she said hurriedly.

 

"So you should be" replied Hilda.

 

At that moment the door of the Saal swung open and Poirot entered, followed by Gaudenz, who appeared to be carrying a large wardrobe.

 

"Ici merci," said Poirot, indicating a point on the floor. Gaudenz placed the wardrobe carefully on the floor and left the room. "And now!" cried Poirot, "The moment you have all been waiting for! I, Hercules Poirot will reveal the murderer of Madame Maynard!"

 

"So! Where to begin?" declaimed Poirot, moustaches waggling wildly. "I shall begin, at the beginning, with the death of Madame Maynard!"

 

"About time," muttered Hilda. "I will reveal the truth behind this, so brutal a crime!"

 

"Get on with it," said Hilda beneath her breath. "And then, I, Hercules Poirot, will reveal the name of the murderer!"

 

"I wish he would stop the dramatics and just tell as," hissed Hilda to Rosalie. When Rosalie did not reply, Hilda nudged her in the ribs. There was still no response. Turning to look at her friend, Hilda saw to her shock that Rosalie was dead. She screamed.

 

"Yes!" cried Poirot, "Our murderer has struck again!"

 

"Gosh" said Reg. He turned to his ex wife Len, "What do you think killed her?" he asked, before noticing that Len too, was dead. Horrified he turned to his lover Anna, and to his dismay he realised she also was dead. "What’s going on Poirot?" he yelled, whilst at the same moment noticing that his ex father-in-law, Jack Maynard, was also dead.

 

Suddenly Reg clasped his neck, he uttered a strange gurgling sound and collapsed on the floor, slowly turning green.

 

"Frieda, Marie, Simone help me!" cried Hilda as she rushed towards Reg's twitching body. There was no reply, all three were dead. The only people left alive were Hilda and Poirot. Hilda leapt upon Poirot, she began punching him in the head, "What is going on? Tell me!" Struggling out of her clutches, Poirot staggered against the wardrobe, knocking the door open, out fell Mary-Lou, still tied up and gagged. Hilda was so surprised she stepped backwards, and tripped over Reg's now lifeless body, and hit her head. For a while she knew no more.

Chapter 11 by Elle

Hilda slowly regained consciousness, and opened her eyes. She was still in the Saal, but now she was tied tightly to a chair. A movement to her right caught her eye, turning her head, she saw the frightened eyes of a similarly bound, but also gagged, Mary-Lou. Looking round to her left, Hilda saw the bodies of the others piled up neatly. There did not appear to be anybody else in the room.

 

"Whats going on?" she hissed to Mary-Lou, "Where's Poirot?"

 

"Mmm mm Mmmm," said Mary-Lou, "Mm Mmm Mmmmmm!"

 

"What?" said Hilda.

 

"MMMMmmmmmmmmm," said Mary-Lou more urgently.

 

"Just spit the gag out," snapped Hilda, "Honestly, call yourself a Chalet school girl and you can't deal with a simple gag."

 

After much hawking, spitting and coughing, Mary-Lou managed to loosen the gag somewhat. "He's not Poirot," she managed to say, "He's..." But at that moment the door to the Saal opened, and a sinister figure walked in.

 

"You!" gasped Hilda.

 

"Me!" came the reply.

 

"But why?" gasped Hilda

 

"You? You dare to ask me why?"

 

"Well, yes, and how? You are supposed to be..."

 

"I know! That's what you all thought." replied the sinister figure.

 

"Why though?"

 

"Why? Because I suffered years of humiliation at your hands Hilda Annersley, and yours Mary-Lou."

 

"How did I humiliate you?" demanded Hilda, tactfully ignoring the reference to Mary-Lou.

 

"You ruin my life and you don't even remember how?"

 

"And what did I do?" demanded Mary-Lou, "I only helped to keep you going the right way."

 

The figure looked at Mary-Lou, "You really think you were doing everything for my own good?"

 

"Of course!"

 

"I see, then there is no hope for you," the evil figure reached into the still open wardrobe, and from amongst the old lady blouses and tweed skirts, removed a large, and very sharp axe.

 

"What are you going to do?" asked a quaking Mary-Lou.

 

"Something that should have been done to you a long time ago," and swinging the axe, the person carefully removed Mary-Lou's head.

 

"That was a bit harsh," said Hilda, "She meant well, it's only Mary-Lou after all." The figure swung towards her, the blood stained axe still clasped in their hands.

 

"Why?" cried Hilda, "Before you decapitate me, won't you please tell me what I did to humiliate you?"

 

"Daniel," replied the fake Poirot.

 

"Daniel?" asked Hilda. "Daniel bit the lions. It was held against me for the rest of my career."

 

"I'm so sorry," apologised Hilda.

 

"It's too late. And now Hilda Ermintrude Tallulah Annersley, prepare to die." And the axe was raised once more.

 

"But how did you kill everyone in here?" asked Hilda, ducking her head to avoid the wildly swinging axe.

 

"Idea no. 76!" replied the evil, insane axe wielding Con.

 

"The poison shooting moustache idea?"

 

"The very same!"

 

"But why am I still alive then? Rosalie and I could only ever achieve a 24% level of accuracy."

 

"I gave you an antidote in your gin. I wanted you alive. And now, prepare to die!"

 

"I think not," said Hilda, looking over the mad axe maniac’s shoulder.

 

Con swung round, the axe still clutched in her hands. There, behind her, stood Kevin, baseball bat in hands.

 

"Hello Auntie Con," he said, blonde plaits shining in the light of the sun from the window. Swinging the baseball bat, he smote Con round the head. She crumpled to the floor.

 

 

"Excellent shot Kevin!" cried Hilda.

 

"Thanks Auntie Hilda," grinned Kevin, "Now lets go and call the police, and get you a nice brandy to perk you up."

 

"What about Con?"

 

"Oh don't worry about her, she's not going anywhere."

 

Together they left the Saal in search of brandy and the police.

 

Some hours later, Hilda, Kevin, assorted Elliots and some policemen re-entered the saal. "There she is!" cried Hilda, wafting brandy fumes as she indicated the spot where the body of the psychopathic murdering Con had been.

 

"Where?" demanded the chief of police eyeing the various corpses that littered the room.

 

Hilda blinked, "She was there a couple of hours ago."

 

"Maybe she has regained her senses and legged it." suggested Kevin.

 

"Pay a slang fine," said Hilda automatically.

 

"What is this empty wardrobe doing in the middle of the room?" asked the chief policeman.

 

"It's not empty," replied Hilda, "It is full of old lady clothes."

 

Backing away from the brandy fumes, the policeman indicated the empty wardrobe. Hilda peered in, "I wonder where she has gone?"

 

"I doubt we will ever know." replied the policeman.

 

At Geneva airport a little old lady was being helped onto a plain for Australia. "Yes," she said to the kind flight attendant, "I have been visiting friends, and I am now off to Australia to see some of my family."

 

Looking at her passport the flight attendant said, "You have come along way Miss Marple."

 

"All the way from St. Mary's Mead," replied Con in a little old lady voice.

 

"What a lot of baggage you have,"

 

"Always be prepared," said Con, as she clutched the bag of poisons closer to her chest. She sat back in her seat and shut her eyes, she may as well relax before she reached Auntie Madge’s house in Australia.

This story archived at http://www.sallydennylibrary.co.uk/viewstory.php?sid=298