Detective Randall Part 1
"I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here," said Detective Randall. "I've brought you together because one of you is a murderer and I am about to reveal that identity." The detective, a tall, thin man in his early forties, raised an eyebrow and gave a knowing look to the twelve people seated around the dining table.
The table, along with all the other things and people in the room, were in the dining hall of the old mansion, Cole-Bright Manor. Paintings of deceased Coles and Brights hung from the east wall. Windows to the garden hung on the west wall. An obnoxiously large chandelier hung from the plaster ceiling to light the walls and everything in between.
An elderly woman, Grandma Mabel, sitting at the far end of the table raised her hand timidly. "Excuse me, Detective Randall," she said, "wouldn't it have been safer just to arrest the murderer and hall him or her off without all this drama?"
The detective swiveled on his heel and glared at the woman. "You would think that, wouldn't you?" He widened his eyes for dramatic effect then cleared his throat and began pacing.
"It's just that," continued Mabel, "If you corner him like this he's likely to get desperate and do something harmful."
Raising his voice, Detective Randall replied, "I can assure you, Madame, I know what I'm doing and am in complete control of the situation."
"I was just saying…"
He cut her off. "Who's the detective here, hmm? I don't drop by the bridge club and get you advice on gin and tonics all afternoon."
She scowled and slumped in her seat.
"Now, as I was saying, we're here so that I may reveal the murderer. As any good detective would do, I started by suspecting the person who found the body. In this case, that would be the housekeeper, Fiona."