Valley of the Trolley Dollies

previously, on ”Once Upon a Murder”

   He’d been a handsome youth, and, in the right light, Captain Ignatius Prince could still be striking. His midnight-dark hair – once the envy of many a princess – still shone like a raven’s tail feathers, presented dramatically in an elaborately piled pompadour, whilst his broad shoulders, which had caused many a lass – and, truth be told, one or two lads – to swoon uncontrollably, were still solid and expansive.

(more…)

(part I here)

The elevator doors opened, and Archer stepped, blinking, into the light.

The reception area was a huge atrium, filled with natural daylight that poured through vast windows and streamed across the vast expanse of the granite floor. The almost subliminal sound of a recent hit song being performed on a marimba coming from hidden speakers somewhere, and the scent of lemon, grapefruit, clean linen and filthy lucre being wafted through the air conditioning, all combined to create an atmosphere of wealth, of style, of integrity.

And there stood Archer. If the reception was a hymn to all that was stylish and beautiful, the presence in it of the detective was a discordant clash, halfway through the second chorus.

(more…)

Archer crouched beside the bloodied heap. He gingerly pressed a finger against the shaggy, blood-matted fur, and sniffed the rich red stain on his glove. Sharply metallic, and still warm. He stared into the eyes, their once sparkling brown-green light now dull and flat, and tried to ignore the axe that still protruded from between them.

(more…)