Out of Order Murder Mystery

Paul Bert

Description

Take everything you've ever known about mysteries, and get ready to toss it out the window. Preferably at the neighbor who stole your newspaper this morning. Go on. We'll wait here.This story is a spoof of murder mysteries and courtroom dramas, with a bit of science fiction thrown in. It is told, well, out of order. Hence the title. Because of that, the victim finds out ahead of time that he may be murdered and has a chance to take evasive action. Naturally, things don't go well.Many of the characters come to realize they are not in real life, but have been caught up in "a stupid Uncle Bert story." Yet, they know the only way out is to proceed through the story to the end. Action alternates back and forth between courtroom drama and events happening outside the courtroom. And some actions even happen before other actions start. Or end. Or, in the middle of other actions.Who will live, who will die and who will escape having to end up in another one of Bert's stories? Will anyone actually get to go on vacation? Whodunit?A laugh-out-loud, madcap short story.

Sujets

• Short story
• Humour

Informations

• Publié par: Untreed Reads
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 0001
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781611872910
• Langue: English

Extrait

Out of Order Murder Mystery
By Bert Paul
Copyright 2012 by Bert Paul
Cover Copyright 2012 by Dara England and Untreed Reads Publishing
The author is hereby established as the sole holder of the copyright. Either the publisher (Untreed Reads) or author may enforce copyrights to the fullest extent.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold, reproduced or transmitted by any means in any form or given away to other people without specific permission from the author and/or publisher. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to the living or dead is entirely coincidental.
http://www.untreedreads.com
Out of Order Murder Mystery
By Bert Paul
Chapter 1. In court already?
“Order in the court!” growled the judge, looking around and banging his gavel. He was slightly confused, since there was no real disturbance in the court. In fact, there were very few people at all in the courtroom. But he felt he had to say something, and that was as good as anything. He scowled sternly over the top of his reading glasses. The judge hoped he was doing a good job of looking authoritative and in charge, because he really didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on. He didn’t know what the case was about, or indeed which case it was, and he didn’t know where they were in the proceedings. Was this a preliminary hearing? Was it jury selection time? Was the trial in progress? Or was it time to proceed with sentencing? And what was the crime, anyway?
All these things preyed on his mind. He really wished he’d been paying closer attention.
For the moment, he turned his attention to the attorneys standing in front of him. They were looking around, nervously. They looked around the courtroom. They looked at each other. They looked at the judge. In reality, they were as puzzled as he was.
“Your honor,” began the defense attorney, “we—my client and I—are asking for a continuance.”
“I object,” said the prosecuting attorney, but in a rather tentative way. She didn’t really object, because she, like the judge, had no idea what was going on. But as the prosecuting attorney, she felt obliged to object to whatever the defense attorney wanted. That’s how it works on TV, anyway, she reasoned.
“Hold your horses,” said the judge to the assistant D.A. The judge turned to the defense attorney. “On what grounds do you want this continuance?”
“Well, your honor, you see…here we are in the courtroom, and we really don’t know what’s going on. Do we? What trial is this? Is it a trial? Look around. We don’t have a defendant. We only have one juror in the jury box. There are no witnesses. I think we need more information before we can proceed. I can only assume my client—whoever he or she may turn out to be—would not want to go any further until we have a clear idea of the circumstances,” said the defense attorney.
“Well, counselor,” said the judge, turning to the assistant D.A., “what do you have to say about this?”
The assistant D.A. cleared her throat. She rummaged through some papers in her briefcase. “Well, it appears the only information I have is that this is a case of murder. We have a victim, an elderly Mr. P of T-Ville. But we don’t seem to have much else.”
“I object!” cried out the lone juror in the jury box.
“You can’t object,” said the judge. “You’re a juror. Your job is to listen quietly and then give a verdict based on evidence presented. Once we find some evidence to present.”
“I don’t care,” said the elderly juror. “I object anyway.”
“On what grounds?” asked the judge, frowning deeply, but briefly. If he frowned too long, he got a headache. He didn’t like headaches, especially since at his age, most of his other parts—joints and muscles—ached much of the time anyway. He hoped it was almost time to retire.
“On lots of grounds,” said the juror. “Mostly, I object to being called for jury duty again . This is the fifty-sixth time in the last sixty-some years, since I turned eighteen, that I’ve been called—and had to serve—on a jury. Seems like some other folks I know who never get called should take a turn now and then.”
“Fifty-six times in sixty years?” said the judge. “How did you get out of jury duty those other four times?” He made a note on his pad to have the juror investigated to see if he got out of jury duty four times because of a trumped-up excuse.
“I was serving my country in the U.S. Air Force,” said the juror.
“Well,” muttered the judge, “I suppose that’s all right. But the jury pool here in this rural area is quite small. You must expect to be called more often than people who live in heavily populated areas.”
“But I am also over eighty now,” said the juror. “It’s tiring for me to drive all the way here, listen to testimony, and go home again. And then there’s another problem that I think is even worse. I—”
The judge cut him off. “Now, listen here. I’m over ninety. If I have to be here, you can be here. But what’s this other problem?”
The exasperated juror said, “I am this Mr. P of T-Ville you are discussing. I don’t think I should have to serve as a juror on a murder trial where I am the victim. There must be a rule about that sort of thing.”
The judge considered this situation for a few moments. “Hmm, you may have something there. There is also a logical difficulty, too. I will have to consult my law books on this one. I’m not sure this situation has ever come up before. Attorneys? What say you?”
Simultaneously, the attorneys said, “I think we should adjourn for now.”
“Very well,” agreed the judge. “This…proceeding…is adjourned until such time as we have more information. Witnesses, police reports, coroner’s report, autopsy results, some facts and details, charges being pressed, a defendant, that sort of thing. And we’d better round up a few more jurors. One juror, who happens to be the murder victim, may be biased.”
The judge banged his gavel. “Court is adjourned until…oh, I don’t know…somewhat nearer the end of the story. It’s really a waste of time to start off with the court proceedings before anything has really happened.”
The attorneys and the judge left the courtroom.
“But what about me ?” said Mr. P to the now-empty courtroom. Nothing had been resolved according to his situation. Did he have to serve on the jury? And when was his murder supposed to happen? He was thinking he might have to skip town to avoid being murdered—at least finding out about it in the first chapter gave him a heads up and a little bit of time to make other plans. He just hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble for not showing up for jury duty.
Chapter 2. Introducing the Vladivostok family
Mr. and Mrs. Vladivostok sat in their living room, smiling at each of their three children. The children, Vladimir, Vladerina, and Vladetta, smiled at their parents and at each other in turn. Sometimes Mr. (Byron) Vladivostok turned and smiled at Mrs. (Vladexa) Vladivostok, and she, in turn, smiled at him. Someone named Codeine Sleepfield sat in the center, smiling at everyone, while looking puzzled.
Eventually, everyone’s cheeks were sore, and they were getting awfully tired of smiling at each other like simpletons.
“Why are we doing this? We don’t usually do this,” said Vladetta, the youngest child, who really wasn’t a child anymore. She was in her second year of college, studying to be a nurse. Vladerina was already working as a nurse, and married to the currently puzzled Mr. Sleepfield. Vladimir was in graduate school to study lunatics.
“I was beginning to wonder about that,” said Codeine. “We never did this before we were married,” he said to Vladerina.
“Well,” said Vladerina, “that’s because you’ve never been in a…oh my God…not again!”
“Story!” yelled everyone at once.
Everyone but Codeine got up and rushed for the front door, but it was too late. Uncle Bert was approaching the front door.
“Quick, out the back!” yelled Vladexa. But it was too late to run out the back, too. It was as if an invisible force field held them all in place.
“What is going on?” asked Codeine. “I’ve met Uncle Bert before. He’s harmless.”
“Not if you’re in an Uncle Bert Story. And it looks like we’re in one now. What have we done to deserve this? It’s been years since the last story…I thought it was finally all over,” said Vladerina.
Uncle Bert walked through the front door. “Hello, everyone. You can sit down now.” The invisible force field dissipated. Everyone sat down, except for Codeine, who was already seated.
“I thought all these stories were over with. Why such a long gap between stories?” asked Vladimir.
“Well,” said Uncle Bert. “Things happen.” Everyone accepted this as a complete, satisfactory excuse so as not to make the story longer. They had learned to do this over time.
Codeine, who had not learned this, since he had not been in a story before, said, “What things? What stories?” Vladerina, his wife, kicked him gently.
“Just be quiet. I’ll explain later,” Vladerina said to her husband. Codeine did as she asked.
“Now I suppose you are all wondering what is going on here,” said Uncle Bert.
“Well, it looks like we’re stuck in another story, through no fault of our own,” said Byron Vladivostok.
“Even better, though,” said Uncle Bert, “it is a murder mystery. I’ve always wanted to write a mystery.”
“Why you’ve always wanted to write is indeed a mystery,” said Vladexa. “Why anybody reads what you write is another.”
Uncle Bert scowled. “Well, you’re stuck here now. Anyway, you all need to be on the lookout for clues, and you need to be paying attention to what is going on.”
Everyone looked around. Nothing was going on. They looked back at Uncle