• Samantha Spade
    And the Homicidal Maniac


    “Tea, Miss Spade?” asked my maid, Miss Pennyapple. I thanked her, and sipped at the tea. It was hot, so I sat it down on the table next to my chair and smiled at the woman. She looked around the office, nervous.

    “So, Mrs. . . .?” I started, pausing.

    “Lenore Master,” she replied, flicking a lock of elegant brunette curls behind her hair. “Samantha Spade, private eye, I presume?” I nodded and she continued. “Well, I am here for your expert help.”

    Ms. Pennyapple handed Lenore a cup of the hot tea, which she clasped in her hands, taking a rugged sip from the classy China tea ware. Her diamond rings caught the fireplace’s light and shimmered, splashing rays of light into my eyes. I turned my eyes away from the gleaming diamonds. “So, Mrs. Master, tell me, what happened to your husband?”

    “Well, it was four p.m., and Edward was in his library, sitting at his desk, writing another one of his famous vampire novels, Blood Reaper, as you know.” Lenore started, flicking her auburn eyes over to the bookshelf that held a series of Edward Master’s Blood Reaper novels.

    “My favorite books, in fact.” I glanced over at my manifold bookshelf and smiled crookedly.

    “Yes, of course. Anyway, I watched Edward as he wrote his famous little novels and decided to help our butler, Marcus White, cook food with my daughter, Grace. I was always afraid to have Grace around Marcus, always reverie about my little Gracie. Marcus had even wanted to defray Grace’s new house that she is going to try to get with Dillon, her fiancé.” Lenore said. Her face started to turn morose. I frowned, a million scenarios running through my mind. She could have killed Edward, maybe even Marcus or Grace, or Dillon. I couldn’t tell with the lack of clues that she was giving me. “I heard quarreling between Grace and Marcus, and Marcus grabbed a knife, threatening to kill someone. It looked as if his arms were convulsing around in the air. I was afraid that my daughter’s life was in danger, but Edward knew before me. He raced in the room in a blur and grasped Marcus by the throat and slammed him against the kitchen wall, breaking our wall clock. Mania filled the house, insanity, madness!”

    I sipped the tea which had cooled down. “Please. Get to the point, Lenore.”

    Lenore scoffed and continued. “After dinner that night, I went to take a shower, still perplexed by what had happened that day. I was about to apply shampoo to my hair when I heard a earsplitting gunshot, not subtle at all. I wrapped a robe around me, dropping the shampoo in the shower. I ran downstairs and into the library. On our Persian rug, Edward lied there, lying in a pool of blood. Grace was sitting next to him, holding a bleeding arm that appeared to have a long slash on it from a butcher knife, stabbed in Marcus’s back. I asked Grace what happened, but she was too shocked to speak, holding a revolver in her bloody hands.”

    I took the last of my tea and drank it, setting it on Miss Pennyapple’s tray. Lenore did the same, and Miss Pennyapple walked back into the kitchen. “Well, it’s no mystery, Mrs. Master.”

    That night, I went to the Master resident, only to see Grace Master burying Marcus White and her father, Edward Master in the front yard of the estate that had no neighbors. The cops behind me grabbed the young woman by the wrists and cuffed her with cold, metal handcuffs. They stopped Grace in front of me and asked, “Why did you help her?”

    I smiled, looking at the girl behind my slick sunglasses. “To see murders like you get what you deserve. To make the streets safer.” I then made my voice soft. “Why did you kill Marcus and your father?”

    Grace snapped and yelled, “Because Marcus killed Dillon!”

    I stepped back from her, shocked. Grace broke down into tears and I noticed coroners pulling another man out of the hole she tried to dig. Dillon Saturday.

    Grace broke down to tears. “I didn’t mean to kill my daddy. I really didn’t. I thought it was Marcus there, reading a book. I pulled the trigger and realized my mistake. I sat there and Marcus came with a knife and grabbed my hair, pulling me upwards. He cut my arm, and I overpowered him and stabbed him. I held the gun and almost committed suicide.” Grace’s butterscotch eyes leveled with her mother’s, who was standing horrified next to me. “But I thought about momma. And though I should give her the same fate I gave daddy.” Grace grin widened at each word. The officers shoved the homicidal maniac into the car. I smiled.