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.In The Zone
. .Emotional Chaos
. ..Number 9.
. .September 11
b
Emotional
Chaos
Weekly
Column by Brian Codagnone
January
29, 2004
THE CHICKEN OF THE BLUNDERVILLES:
AN INSPECTOR BLANCMANGE MYSTERY
PART 3: A PECK OF TROUBLEOnce removed to the privacy of the billiard room, Blancmange was free to explain to Broadbeam and Sir Charles.
"You'll forgive my evasiveness gentlemen, but in a place such as this the walls have ears!"
"They came with the house", said Sir Charles defensively, "Beastly things, really, but my father insisted on leaving them up there as a warning to the servants."
Speaking of the servants, would you be so kind as to summon yours to the library? I have an announcement to make that will be of interest to all in the household!"
Blancmange, Broadbeam and Sir Charles went to the library, where Sir Charles rang the bell to summon Dawks, Mrs. Dawks, Frothingmouth and Bridget. When they were assembled, Blancmange spoke.
"I suppose you're wondering why I should summon you all."
"Is it Guy Fawkes Day? Is the glowing hedgehog about?" asked Bridget brightly.
"If I may continue", said Blancmange, pouring a glass of port and lighting up up a large joint, "The reason for this gathering is to announce that Dawks, the butler, is really Captain Eustis Plunk-Cavendish!"
"I say!" said Broadbeam, "Surely not THE Captain Eustis Plunk-Cavendish, Blancmange!"
"The same! And Mrs. Dawks is in fact his wife, Ammonia Plunk-Cavendish"
"I say!" said Broadbeam.
"And Bridget, the stereotypical Irish maid, is none other than Prudence, the illegitimate daughter born of his now notorious relationship with Judith Flemm, a scullery maid at Sandhurst!" He put the joint to his lips and drew the smoke deeply into his lungs.
"The layers of deception run deep, gentlemen, very deep indeed!"
"What about Frothingmouth, the gamekeeper?"
"He's just the gamekeeper."
Sir Charles said, "Who is this Captain Eustis Plunk-Cavendish? As you know, I was looking after my holdings in Canada for some seven years before my father's brutal demise brought me back to Blunderville Hall, so I've not heard any news beyond the hockey scores."
"Forgive me, my dear Sir Charles! I forget sometimes how slowly the news travels to the provinces! Captain Eustis Plunk-Cavendish committed the brutal murder of one of our nations greatest heroes, Field Marshal Augustus Tiberius Spottswode!"
"Field Marshal Spottswode? The Hero of the Punjab Uprising and Exterminator of the Zulus?"
"The very same! It's ironic, isn't it? A man survives a lifetime of military adventures, only to die in his own garden, smothered in the compost heap! Despite the fact that Plunk-Cavendish grew a beard, shaved his head, had one leg shortened to create a limp and has been surgically altered to resemble Benjamin Disraeli, I immediately recognized the fiend! The eyes don't lie, gentlemen! I can always tell the wicked by the glint of evil in their eyes! I couldn't let on, of course, otherwise he'd disappear into the Macken Mire, perhaps never to be seen again!"
"But why did he kill such a beloved hero as Field Marshal Spottswode?" asked Sir Charles.
"Perhaps Captain Plunk-Cavendish would like to answer that."
Plunk-Cavendish only glared at Blancmange, his Disraeli-like face a mask of hatred and rage.
"No? Then I'll tell the story. You see, many years ago Plunk-Cavendish was an aide to Field Marshall Spottswode, and a promising young officer at that. But something happened. An invasion plan. A plan, seemingly feasable but doomed to fail!"
"It was a sound plan!!" Plunk-Cavendish roared, lunging forward. Blancmange, a master of Jhang-Tsu deftly stepped aside and hit him with a large ashtray.
"Your plans to invade the Dalmatian Coast were spotty at best! Field Marshal Spottswode knew that, and that's why you killed him!"
"Blast your eyes, Blancmange! I should have killed you when I had the chance!"
Blancmange was nonplussed. "I took the liberty of having Inspector Glucose and Sergeant Haffwitt secrete themselves in the stone cottage on the moor. They should arrive momentarily! There's no escape from justice this time, my dear Plunk-Cavendish!"
Just then Inspector Glucose and Sergeant Haffwitt entered through the window.
"You could have used the door, gentlemen!" said Sir Charles.
"There will be time for that later, Sir Charles!", said Blancmange, "I dare say that Plunk-Cavendish, Mrs. Plunk-Cavendish and Prudence all have a date with the hangman!"
"Beg pardon, sir", said Sergeant Haffwitt, "But maybe we should hang Frothingmouth too, just to be on the safe side!"
"Good thinking, Sergeant", said Glucose, "You'll make Inspector some day! Round them up and take them away!"
"Well!" said Blancmange, "That clears up that mystery!"
"I say!" said Broadbeam, "This is all well and good, but what about the demonic chicken? What about Lord Bevis' violent death?"
"One case at a time, my dear Broadbeam, one case at a time!"
And with that they all had a good laugh.
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