Ed's revelation required a rapid explanation. Caroline, Daisy and Andy had no idea where they were or when they were. The first because no matter where they were everyone they encountered spoke English. The second because they hadn't been there long enough to work it out. Learning they were in Gloucestershire was bad enough. Then they were told this was the early 1950's. The horror of this took a while to percolate into their brains. None of them knew about the 1950's. As far as they were concerned history stopped in 1945, then restarted again with the advent of pop music and space exploration. They still weren't getting the full impact though. No one can take the full impact of 1950's Britain of course. You have to take it in small doses until you build up some kind of resistance to it.
The source of the shot that rang out, as well as the scream that followed, entered stage right. Colonel Meldrew hove into view, a still smoking shotgun under one arm, his wife's throat under the other. He dragged her along muttering loudly. Letting her know that if she ever dared serve tiffin at the wrong time again he would shoot her where it showed. It was far too early for tiffin, he explained. Reinforcing each point with a hard blow to her head. The men nodded in agreement with him. Particular impressed by his ability to inflict domestic violence on a smaller, weaker victim. The women were scandalized, the Colonel's wife little better than a prostitute in their eyes. The colonel threw her to the ground to make kicking her ribs less wearing on his boots.
In 1950's Britain, delivering a savage beating to your wife, or anyone of lesser social standing, drew little attention. Serving tiffin at the wrong time however was a different matter. Tongues would wag. At this point Andy stupidly asked the question, that Caroline and Daisy were too smart to ask. The shot had been the colonel shooting at his wife. The scream had been from his wife as he'd punched her in the face. How did Ed know this was turning into a murder mystery? Ed slowly shook his head at the young man's foolishness. You should never question him his expression indicated. You wouldn't like any of the answers he'd give you, and they'd all be lies. Be assured his countenance insisted, the murder mystery would happen.
The 1950's British murder mystery has many nuances. You have to know your stuff to recognize the signs. For example a shot ringing out, followed by a scream had elicited little reaction. Five minutes later, when a young woman screamed and fainted, everyone came running. First on the scene, of course, were the cook and the butler. They stared at the bodies, horrified by the fact they were both cliches. Ed and his companions arrived momentarily. A pale young woman lay unconscious on the ground next to the murder victim. She wore a colorful dress. Her chest was rising and falling. Obvious floozy, if ever there was one. Ed stepped over the dead man.
"Right, we need to loosen her clothing." He declared, taking charge.
He knelt beside her, thrusting his hand up her skirt as far as it would go. A look of total concentration on his face as he rummaged.
"Are you sure that's going to bring her out of a faint?" Andy asked.
"Sorry?" Ed responded. "Oh right. She's fainted has she? Well I never." His hand continued ts ministrations. "Underwear was a lot more complicated in the 1950's. When I get to her bra I'm going to need some wire cutters and a long run up."
"Shouldn't you be having a look at the body?" Daisy inquired.
"He's not going anywhere, but I suppose you're right." He removed his hand from beneath her dress. Then gave her conical breasts a firm squeeze before standing up. He crouched over the cadaver, looked up at the tower above.
"Is he dead?" Andy queried.
"Well he's been shot, stabbed, tossed from a tall building onto a concrete spike, strangled with a thin ligature, shot with an arrow and poisoned. What do you fucking think? Should we ask him?"
Andy decided to box clever. He'd seen a few murder mysteries in his short life.
"What do you think Ed?"
"I think this guy really pissed somebody off. That's what I think."
"Shouldn't someone call the police?" It was Caroline's turn for some dialogue.
"I suppose so." Their leader admitted. "Not that it'll do any good."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a 1950's British murder mystery. The police aren't going to be able to solve it. The best they'll manage to do is to get some innocent patsy hanged. The local PC will show up shortly, scratch his head then send someone to call for backup. They'll turn up to arrest a suspect they can beat a confession out of. No, the police will be completely flummoxed by this. We'll have to wait here until some old biddy turns up to crack the case. Either that or a Catholic priest on a bicycle. There's a small possibility a private investigator, a young engaged couple or a foreigner will eventually find the culprit. A week or two plus several other murders and we'll be able to get out of here at last."
"Couldn't you find the murderer Ed?"
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"I could I suppose. Seeing as our only way out of this is to find the real killer. The problem with that is I have no idea how to conduct a murder investigation. My only experience is as a murderer. I'm great at covering them up and making them look like accidents or suicides. Although I'd be a bit stretched with this one. The suicide note would have to be several pages long."
"Hello, hello, hello. What's all this then?"
Daisy and Caroline rolled their eyes as the fat PC announced his arrival. He pulled his notebook from his top pocket, licking the end of his pencil.
"They're sunbathing?" Daisy responded sarcastically.
"Oh right then. Sorry to have disturbed you. I'll be on my way."
"No you pillock. This man has obviously been murdered."
"Let me be the judge of that Miss. You can't be jumping to conclusions. Has anyone loosened the young ladies clothing yet?"
"I'm right on it." Ed's voice announced from the background.
The young woman sat up.
"Actually I feel better now. It was a bit of a shock that's all."
"Let me be the judge of that Miss." Her first aid responder insisted, thrusting both hands up her petticoats. "When I've finished down here I'll sort your breasts out. Looks like they've become rearranged due to your fall."
"You're sure it's not too much trouble?" She moaned.
"Not at all. Only too glad to help. It's the least I can do."
The general consensus was that the small matter of a brutal murder was no reason to spoil the village fete. They didn't want a repeat of last year. Everyone hated the bastard who'd been killed anyway. The list of suspects was a mile long. Once you'd ruled out those who were nowhere near the manor this dropped down to around a dozen. Including the colonel, his wife, the cook, the understairs maid and the man who cleaned out the gratings. After much deliberation the police had decided to treat it as a homicide. They were dusting for prints in between drinking cups of weak tea. They were also getting nowhere. They weren't even getting there fast either. After a few hours people were looking out for a priest or an old old lady to turn up. When there was no sign of them, Caroline, Daisy and Andy decided to have a go at this.
Daisy had once been invited to a LARP murder mystery. She hadn't gone in the end, but she had read the brochure. That made her lead detective on the case. As far as 1950's policing was concerned this made her over qualified. Miss Marples hadn't even been to university. Her only qualification was being a nosy old bitch who kept poking into other people's business. Poirot was dead by this time. Although no one had the heart to tell him. The three youngest members of the group sat in the tiffin tent, even though it was too late for tiffin. The trio had nothing to go on. The toilet tent had closed, so they had to piss in the trees. Ed and Biggie had opted to conduct the interviews. The sounds of the blows and the grunts of pain drifted across the manor's ground.
"Where were you when the murder took place?"
"I don't know. When did the murder take place?"
"We'll ask the questions."
"Do I need a lawyer?"
"Only if you did it? Innocent people don't need lawyers. Now answer the question. Where were you when the murder took place?"
One thing was for sure. It was going to be a long painful night for all those who were interviewed.