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1930 (Year 1)
Ten years prior, a terrible event happened. A terrible event caused by an honorable man. This event single-handedly would cause this man to be considered dishonorable. This event will be discussed later, as it is the year 1930 now, and I have better things to do then explain all the backstory and lore at the moment.
Colonel Ainsley William Ginger arrived at the town party late. Not horrifically late, but late enough to make the storyteller anxious for the twenty-seven minutes that it took him to arrive. This was not unusual for Ginger to be this late, but it was unusual for a polished and previously well-respected colonel to be as unpunctual as he was.
Not that it matters now.
The party was in a small town in England, and all of its residents were invited. Peculiarly, only ten of its residents arrived. Even more peculiarly, all ten of its guests were connected in some way or another to each other.
I think that fills that plot hole.
Moving on.
Colonel Ainsley Ginger came to the party (late), and promptly ordered a drink from the bar, a Ward 8 to be exact (non-alcoholic, as we were underage at this time). A beautiful mix of pineapple juice, orange juice, lemon juice, and grenadine to ensure that whatever level of hangover he would surely have the next day, it would suck ass because of the sugar content. But they tasted great, so he ordered about four of them. I wouldn’t blame him.
As the other guests began to mingle, some bits and pieces of conversation were made audible.
“Oh, how have you been, it’s been ages -”
“-how is the wife doing? Is she still at that job-”
“-yes, my brother has been missing for a while, he’s presumed dead-”
“-the bartender is kinda hot, not gonna lie-”
Thank you. You look splendid as well.
Right, where was I? Ah.
A glass crashes as Madame Vivian Sangria falls on the floor, mouth agape, fear in their eyes for just a moment, then lifelessness.
This created quite the rouse within the guests, as falling to the ground, stiff and not-quite-alive was not the norm for 1930’s English parties. Considering the body before them, the guests recovered fairly quickly, and began to determine the cause and reason of their death. They stepped over the body and a spilled Ward 8 mocktail and gathered in a circle.
They thought that fully introducing themselves and discussing their transgressions of Mme. Sangria would help solve this predicament.
“Shall we start with an introduction of one another–” Oliver Raven began.
“No, no. I do not want to know any of you. I want to drink my worries away, and then leave. ” Colonel Ginger interrupted. The group laughed as that is truly what all of them wanted to do, but they continued with introductions anyway.
“Well, hello, I am Evelyn Rose. Let’s see... I am an heiress, um, but I’m not pretentious like that, I- I like to believe that I’m down to earth. I had a brother, but he passed in the experiment. What else... Oh! I like to read a lot! I especially like Agatha Christie, I think her works are just splendid.”
“Who’s Agatha Christie?” said Wesley Plum. The other guests gasped and stared shocked at him, as anyone, from any time but especially during the 1930’s, would’ve surely known who Agatha Christie, the infamous fictional crime writer was. She Who had been outsold only by the Holy Bible and Shakespeare; the creator and author of the bestselling Hercule Poirot series. The guests pondered as they weren’t aware that such an illiterate person was present at the party. They continued with introductions.
A spritely adventurer stepped forward in the group.
“My name is Morgan L. Banana. What does the ‘L’ stand for?” The others murmured, as what kind of a question is that? “Yes, it stands for Ligma,” he paused for a breath, “I am a Marine Paleozoologist. First there was the Precambrian era–” Banana then recited all of marine paleozoology history and discovery. I’ll spare you the lecture.
“So you work with bones and fossils and things like that, yes? Have you found any dinosaurs?” Plum asked.
“Dinosaur fossils are incredibly important, yes, I’ve found many of them–” Banana responded, as if he was going to begin another lecture.
“The only use of the dinosaurs...is oil.” Raven interrupted, attempting to get back to the murder on hand.
Next, a well-dressed, well-spoken person stepped up.
“Hello, I am Edmund Greene. I am a local radio broadcaster here in London. I do mixed content, music, talk shows, news. I had a brief stint in the military, but failed for the most part,” Greene sighed at the lost prospect of being a military man for a moment, and then noticed that this probably wasn’t the time for that.
“Hello, my name is Eleanore Cobalt, I am a loving teacher, I teach middle schoolers, and that man–” She pointed to Colonel Ginger, who when pointed to, stopped mid-drink to look up surprised, mustache skewed to one side, “–that man killed my father in his experiment, along with several others. He just killed them in cold blood,”
“What?! No! They saw the same vision! And they were willing! We did it for a greater future!” Ginger defensively said.
“And what did you get out of it?” Cobalt responded coldly.
“Uh,” Ginger paused tensely, “...apparently castration.”
“Dr. Banana is a very dear friend of mine, who often helps teach my children about marine life,” Cobalt continued. Banana, at that moment, was shoveling cheese into his mouth.
“Hello all. My name is Wesley Plum. I am an actor, situated here in London.”
“Have we seen you in anything?” Rose asked.
“You’ve probably seen me in a few films, most predominantly I’m Charlie Chaplin’s ass double,” the others murmured in interest.
“Hi. I’m Schuyler Tan. My mother was a locksmith, my father was a locksmith, my other mother was a locksmith, my other father was a locksmith. I sell ice cream. ”
“Hello, I am Lucille Dove, I am an interior designer and married to my lovely Mr. Raven. I specialize in Art Deco and open designs.”
Plum found Dove familiar, but couldn’t quite place where.
“Well, you see here, my name is Oliver Raven. My friends call me Ray, so she can-” he pointed to his wife, Dove, “–and he can–” he pointed to Tan, “–but I don’t want to hear it out of any of your mouths.” Banana then pulled out some barbecue sauce and handed it to Raven, the others chuckled.
“I am a businessman. Anywhere there is money to be made, you can find me, around the world. Any place this doctor has been–” Raven motioned to Dr. Banana, “I’ve made money there.”
“And I’ve found fossils there,” Banana said quietly.
“And this sick fuck, with his copper Sweeps project–” Raven continued.
“Schweppes, it's Schweppes, please get it right,” the bartender said, quite irritated.
Raven thought for a moment.
“Sweeps.”
The bartender then lunged over the counter, beer bottle raised like a bat, and started swinging towards the businessman–
* * * * *
“I guess it’s redundant to introduce myself, as most of you already know who I am, and have formed your own opinions about me. I am Colonel Ainsley Ginger of the Royal British Army. I have been serving for fifteen years now.” Ginger’s introduction was met with little response from the others, and what little response was given, was quite negative.
“Alright then, what about Sangria?” Raven asked. Sangria, at the moment, was sipping on a lavender julep as a ghost in the corner, asking themselves the same question.
“They run– Ran halfway houses for injured veterans coming back from war. They were very kind. I think they were a communist, but that’s beside the point,” Schuyler Tan stated.
“Well, why would someone want to kill Sangria?” Raven questioned.
“Maybe it was an accident?” Cobalt considered.
“Maybe the bartender put something in there that he wasn't supposed to be.” Plum accused. The bartender repeated to the group that he was exempt from all crimes, specifically murder, and that they should look elsewhere. The group collectively sighed.
“Alright then, how did Sangria die? Are there any signs of specific poisons that could lead us anywhere?” Asked Greene. “Are there any doctors here?”
Raven looked at his wife, Dove, but she avoided his eye contact.
“I’m a doctor!” Banana responded excitedly.
“A medical doctor.” Green responded tenderly. Banana paused for a second and then stepped back. Colonel Ginger stepped up and kneeled down closer to the body.
“There doesn’t seem to be any physical signs of poisoning that I can tell. It seems like they were paralyzed for a few minutes and stopped breathing. Seemed like a bad way to go.” Ginger continued to inspect Sangria’s body. “There doesn’t seem to be a specific smell or anything out of the ordinary. Other than the dead body of course.”
The group pondered over the murder, still drinking mocktails even though that’s clearly how Sangria died, as they hadn’t consumed anything else otherwise.
Tan seemed frustrated and confused, as he was fairly close friends with Sangria.
“But why would someone want Sangria dead? Did anyone have any grievances with them?” Tan looked at his associate Raven. “I mean, Sangria had several grievances about Raven and his businesses, but Raven wasn’t even aware of Sangria before meeting here.”
Raven was also puzzled, as this was indeed the first time he had heard of Sangria. The ghost of Sangria was also quite puzzled, as none of the guests had made it evident before the party of any distaste against them. Most of the guests truly weren’t aware of Sangria before this event.
The guests were confused, and even started accusing the possibility of people having affairs with Sangria, and their partners wanting revenge. These accusations were quickly shut down by the bartender, but he did write down infidelity as a future motive.
Naturally, there was a lot of tension directed at Raven, as he seemed like the kind of businessman to kill for money.
“Oliver- Oliver Raven? I think your face looks stupid, and I think you’ve killed people.” Ginger said, accusingly holding out his drink toward Raven.
“I could hold you by your mustache, you copper motherfucker–” Raven responded.
“I could hold you by your balls , and they’d fall off because they’re so small and langy–”
It seemed as if Ginger wanted to continue his sentence, but was unable to.
An unfortunate set of last words for a reputable man.
Colonel Ainsley Ginger collapses on the floor. He is conscious, but he cannot breathe.
His lungs are paralyzed, as is the rest of his body. Panic has fully set in, decreasing his chance to survive. The poison within him works fast, but it wears off fast too. The effects only last about ten minutes.
But he can’t hold his breath that long.
No amount of intervention, at this point, will help him.
The Late Colonel Ainsley Ginger laid dead on the floor, in a similar fashion as Mme. Sangria did.
In the afterlife, ghost-Sangria excitedly yelled “Ghost Buddies!” and high-fived the disoriented ghost-Ginger.
The other, alive guests, were much less excited about Ginger’s death, as some were beginning to become concerned if they were next. They began another round of interrogations, as this time everyone at the party had their own (strong) opinions about Colonel Ginger.
“My brother worked for him.” Stated Rose, resentfully. “Samuel was his driver. They were very close,” Rose took very long pauses in between her sentences, as though reliving these experiences. “Sam was also poisoned. Ginger, he said that he looked into Sam’s death. My family and I were...unwelcoming towards his intent. Did I used to wish Ginger was dead? I did. Do I feel better now knowing that he actually is?” Rose’s eyes became watery, “I mean his death didn’t bring back Samuel. Now there’s just more people dead.” The others comforted her in her anger, as most of the others also felt a similar anger. Dove set her purse on the counter, rummaged through it, and pulled out a spare handkerchief for Rose. Schyler Tan came to her.
“I am so sorry for your loss, miss.” Tan said remorsefully. Rose nodded her head in thanks. “I do have one question if you don’t mind. You said your brother’s name was Samuel. As in Samuel Rose?” Rose nodded her head. “I don’t know how to say this, and I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I believe I’ve heard Sangria talk about a Samuel Rose who lives in one of their halfway houses. I believe he is one of their favorite veterans, especially with how he lives with his ailment.” Tan and Rose continued talking about Samuel and Sangria together.
* * * * *
“Well, what about you, Banana?” asked Raven.
“What about me? If I was gonna kill the man, I would’ve shot him dead. I wouldn’t use some pussy-footed-sneaking-around-method like poison. What am I? French?” The others seemed satisfied with his answer.
“I didn’t personally know Ginger, but I was a radiocaster who broadcast the initial news of the Schweppes Project, and its incident. I said the names of the ones who passed on air. I was most people's first news of the project and its casualties.” Greene said. “I only met him in passing when I went through sniper training.”
“You’re...a sniper?” questioned Raven.
“Not officially. I failed the last exam.” Greene responded passively. “It’s not that big of a deal. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten into broadcasting!”
Cobalt stepped forward.
“He killed my father. He killed my father in his experiment. Do you know what that did to my family? We were fortunate to get reparations from the government, because not every family did. He could have done more to protect people. It was an artillery experiment for god’s sake, how was he this careless?” Cobalt took a moment to catch her breath. “I didn’t believe in the war that he devoted himself to, but he was still a good colonel other than the project.”
“I worked with him on the project,” confessed Plum. “I was the lead metallurgist, uh– I studied the metal alloys that were used in the artillery. I was on the first page of researchers listed. Plum is mainly a stage name. It was also an opportunity to start over.”
“He made my life more difficult, certainly,” Tan began, “He drove up the copper prices to the point where it was almost impossible to buy refrigeration for my business. Some people got sick because I wasn’t able to properly refrigerate the ice cream.”
“I also haven’t interacted with him personally,” began Raven. “I was mainly trading stocks in New York during the time of the project. Copper was one of my...more prevalent stocks. He certainly tried to make me bankrupt.”
“You went to New York?” Plum asked.
“I was born and raised there. So was Mr. Tan. We both ventured to England for business.” Raven responded assuredly.
“Back in my time in New York,” Raven began, “We had to deal with a little thing called the Mafia–,” Plum stood back in surprise, but Raven leaned in, “–and those fucking Italians, they may not know everything, but they know how to make some money.”
“You know, I’ve never actually met an Italian before,” Plum said, pondering. Raven chuckled.
“Good.”
“So, how was...” Cobalt began, looking to Raven as she tried to figure out if she wanted this question answered or not. Trying again, she asked, “...Did you interact with the Mafia often?”
“I may or may not have had connections to...” Raven sighed, “...organized crime. However, I have no connections to the death of Madame Sangria, or Colonel. Because although Colonel, is a rat fuck–”
“Oh, I agree” Cobalt concurred.
“The Sweeps project would honestly have meant he’s better off dead.” Raven stated. Banana overheard, and appropriately responded:
“The fuck, bitch?”
“I have no involvement in this particular occasion.” Raven assured. Cobalt ‘Mhm’d’ in disbelief, but Raven continued.
“I am trying to simply live a wonderful, and quiet life with my wife Lucille.” Cobalt responded with another unconvinced ‘Mhm’.
“Uh– Mrs. Dove, how do you know the colonel?” Cobalt compelled.
“Erm. I briefly worked in the military during the time of his experiment. Nothing much, just helping others out.” Dove responded reservedly.
“Did you meet him in person before today?” Cobalt continued.
“Um– A few times in passing? I knew of him and how he was like through others but we didn’t have many one-on-one conversations.”
The group seemed just as stumped as before. Fortunately, a small vial of succinylcholine just happened to appear on the counter, and that continued the investigation.
The guests struggled to pronounce succinylcholine for some reason. They even questioned if it was a real chemical. Must be the 1930’s English wartime education system.
“Oh...there’s nothing inside of the vial.” Raven said, disappointed.
I had forgotten to put anything inside of the vial. Fortunately, the participants ran with it.
“That means that all of it was used! All one hundred milligrams!” Rose exclaimed.
Yes, yes, that’s definitely what happened.
“Oh– I’ve seen this before. They use this for my therapy.” Banana interjected. He then realized that his knowledge of this specific chemical was slightly incriminating, to say the least.
“I receive electroshock therapy for my gayness,” Banana stated. “And my depression,” Banana finished, dejectedly.
“See in the UK, we’d just shoot him.” Plum stated. I was grateful that Plum had forgotten that we were indeed in a small English town, because if he had remembered, I’m sure he would have pulled out his pistol right then and there.
“Wait, why do you need this chemical for therapy? Isn’t it just talking on a couch?” asked Tan.
“It’s a physical electro-therapy. It sends electricity to my brain so I’m not as sad as I was.” Banana explained to the best of his ability, although that wasn’t quite the same type of doctor-y things he knew. “The succinylcholine is a paralytic so that my muscles don’t freak out when I’m being electrocuted. At one point I was given a larger-than-average dose. Of- Of suck-my-nuts-ine and it made me quite claustrophobic, it felt like I was being suffocated. I don’t like enclosed spaces.”
“That's very inconvenient for a marine paleozoologist,” Raven inquired.
“I’ve never dived.” Banana admitted. There was quite the outrage within the group at this news, as most people would assume that a specialized marine paleozoologist would have surely gone diving. Some called him a fraud, even though he gained his degree with at least most of his academic integrity intact by the end of it.
* * * * *
This is now the part where my associates were royally stumped, so from here I’ve taken a little creative liberty to state what should have happened.
Plum thought back to his previous conversation with Raven.
“Wait, so you have had people killed before? What evidence is there to show that you didn’t kill Sangria and the Colonel?”
“Like I’ve said, I’ve left that life behind so that I can continue having a peaceful rest of my life with Lucille.” Raven responded, patiently.
“He lost you a lot of money, didn’t he?” Cobalt chimed in. “He wasted so many resources that he ruined your sales.”
“That is true, but like I’ve said-” Raven continued.
“How did you kill the other people then? Did you poison them? Did you pay others to kill them for you?” Cobalt questioned.
“He’s been leading us the whole time playing detective that we didn’t realize that he’s the one who did it,” Banana accused. The group began to fully pile on Raven, yet he kept his composure and reassured that he left that life behind. However, someone else was taking on the stress of the group accusing Raven.
“Stop, stop. Please stop.” Tears began running down her face. The room became quiet. “I truly, truly did not want to kill Sangria.” There were several pauses as Dove was struggling to keep her composure.
“I was a nurse, a military nurse for the project.” Dove’s words were beginning to become difficult to make out through her tears. “I was on duty when the explosion happened. I saw so many people die. I wasn’t trained for... For mass casualties like that, I was just supposed to do small injuries.”
“I hated him for what he did.” Her anger seemed to override her guilt for a moment. “He tore so many families apart. These were the families that were supposed to get back together after the war was over.” She looked up at Cobalt, who had silent tears running down her cheeks as well.
“Raven has done nothing. He’s promised to leave that life behind for me, and he has been loyal to his promise. I’ve– I’ve not been as lucky with my past.” Dove was finally able to catch her breath at this point.
“And no. I do not feel better. I– I thought I would feel safer, almost? I don’t think I do.” She continued. “The goddamn drinks switched at the last minute.” As she mentioned this, another wave of anger and guilt shuddered through Dove. Raven stood up and kneeled in front of Dove, wiping away her tears.
“I will figure this out. Do not worry, alright? I kept a few favors around, we can go back to New York and settle there.” Raven said quietly to Dove. Not quietly enough, apparently.
“Are we just– Just going to let them go? Are we going to call the police or something?” Banana asked, taken aback.
“Yes, I support the police, I’m American,” said Tan.
“Of course you would,” replied Plum. Just then, a distinctive sound from outside the party was heard.
“Oh my god Dylan’s mom is here,” said Banana, quickly rising from his seat to greet the beloved mother of the group. The others chuckled at Banana’s prompt response.
* * * * *
Well, there you have it. Dove was tried, convicted, then astoundingly and expeditiously released from jail. She and Raven lived in New York and continued to live a peaceful life, at least to my knowledge.
Rose and Samuel, her brother, reunited after many years and a war apart. They funded Sangria’s funeral, and it was an admirable funeral, of an admirable person.
Colonel Ginger’s funeral was a week later, with conflicting responses from attendees. His house burned down shortly after. No one was injured, but his infamous bright-orange suit went along with it. A seemingly fitting end for a once-noble colonel.
Dr. Banana continued his work and made several monumental discoveries and advances for marine-paleozoology. Just don’t ask him about it unless you want to hear about something like that.
Greene also continued his work, and announced the death of Sangria and Ginger over the same channel he announced the Schweppes Incident. He gathered some of Sangria’s favorite songs to play after the announcement.
Cobalt was able to get a better paying job through Banana, but still taught her students as a substitute, of course. She and her partner settled down and retired gracefully. Cobalt would read to children at the library throughout her retirement.
Plum got kicked from the actor’s guild for concerning behavior. Bummer.
Tan was able to get enough funding to upgrade his equipment and get a bigger building for his business. He now has a customer base in England, and in the U.S thanks to Raven’s help. Tan’s Ice Cream is also a suspected money laundering business, although allegations were consistently denied by Tan and Raven.