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Chapter 1:- Prologue
It wasn’t a dark and stormy night. No fog rolled through the dimly lit streets making every shadow seem sinister. The sun was shining. The temperature was twenty-four Celsius... in the shade... if you could find any. I couldn’t. Yet, I was dressed in a heavy trench coat, a wool suit that would have been in fashion a hundred years ago. Under the jacket, in a very uncomfortable leather holster, I carried an antique .38 Police Special.
I parked the hybrid I had rented for the weekend. My town car was electric but Marcella warned me that the lodge was off the grid. It was a final admonition at the end of a half hour of costuming and role playing instruction.
Marcella met me outside the main lodge. She was dapperly dressed as a man of fashion circa 1920-something. Her short, wild curls had been tamed by gobs of gel into a shiny black comb-back. To give her credit, she never asked me to do anything she wasn’t willing to over-do herself.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”she said, waving an arm at the green hills on the off-season ski resort. “Aren’t you glad you came?”
I grunted.
Yes, it was beautiful. No, I was not glad I came. My darling sister had railroaded me into helping her with one of her role playing parties – a murder mystery weekend. Just what a police detective wants to do on his time off.
She gave me a big hug then held me a arms’ length.
“You look so dashing, it’s too bad you have to change.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“We had a no-show. You have to take his place.”
I was ready to head back to the car and drive away, but my sister grabbed my suitcase in one hand and my arm in the other and dragged me off.
“Lyle is going to play the private eye,” she explained, referring ot her husband. While she talked, we walked past the lodge and over to the gondola that would take us up the mountain to one of the guest houses. “He plays the first victim so he’ll be dead before the detective shows up.”
“Why can’t I do that?”
She giggled, “You don’t want to do that, honey. Trust me. Any way, the character you’re replacing is much more up your alley. The Honourable Bertie Worcestershire, younger son of the Earl of Chutney – a fashionable man about town – loosely based on...”
“Jeeves and Wooster,” I said, anticipating her. All the characters in this role playing game were parodies of famous mystery characters. “Not liking the comparison, Sis.”
“Wait until you meet your Jeeves. He’s delicious and single.”
I pulled out of her clutches.”
“You’re dead.”
“Not until the third act. Anyway, I’m not match-making. I’m just saying.” She crooked her finger. “Come on big brother, you know you won’t leave me in the lurch now.”
Unfortunately, she was right.
It wasn’t a dark and stormy night. No fog rolled through the dimly lit streets making every shadow seem sinister. The sun was shining. The temperature was twenty-four Celsius... in the shade... if you could find any. I couldn’t. Yet, I was dressed in a heavy trench coat, a wool suit that would have been in fashion a hundred years ago. Under the jacket, in a very uncomfortable leather holster, I carried an antique .38 Police Special.
I parked the hybrid I had rented for the weekend. My town car was electric but Marcella warned me that the lodge was off the grid. It was a final admonition at the end of a half hour of costuming and role playing instruction.
Marcella met me outside the main lodge. She was dapperly dressed as a man of fashion circa 1920-something. Her short, wild curls had been tamed by gobs of gel into a shiny black comb-back. To give her credit, she never asked me to do anything she wasn’t willing to over-do herself.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”she said, waving an arm at the green hills on the off-season ski resort. “Aren’t you glad you came?”
I grunted.
Yes, it was beautiful. No, I was not glad I came. My darling sister had railroaded me into helping her with one of her role playing parties – a murder mystery weekend. Just what a police detective wants to do on his time off.
She gave me a big hug then held me a arms’ length.
“You look so dashing, it’s too bad you have to change.”
I narrowed my eyes at her.
“We had a no-show. You have to take his place.”
I was ready to head back to the car and drive away, but my sister grabbed my suitcase in one hand and my arm in the other and dragged me off.
“Lyle is going to play the private eye,” she explained, referring ot her husband. While she talked, we walked past the lodge and over to the gondola that would take us up the mountain to one of the guest houses. “He plays the first victim so he’ll be dead before the detective shows up.”
“Why can’t I do that?”
She giggled, “You don’t want to do that, honey. Trust me. Any way, the character you’re replacing is much more up your alley. The Honourable Bertie Worcestershire, younger son of the Earl of Chutney – a fashionable man about town – loosely based on...”
“Jeeves and Wooster,” I said, anticipating her. All the characters in this role playing game were parodies of famous mystery characters. “Not liking the comparison, Sis.”
“Wait until you meet your Jeeves. He’s delicious and single.”
I pulled out of her clutches.”
“You’re dead.”
“Not until the third act. Anyway, I’m not match-making. I’m just saying.” She crooked her finger. “Come on big brother, you know you won’t leave me in the lurch now.”
Unfortunately, she was right.
