Another factor pointing to their disconnectedness was that each murder had been quite different; one was a gun shot, one was a knife stabbing, and the third was poisoning. So it was disconcerting for Constable Carrington when there were yet a further three murders, all in the same household at the same time; one from gunshot, one from stabbing, and one from poisoning. It was as if a single, as yet unarrested murderer, had heard the news of three different murder methods and performed all three at the same time.
Mrs Audrey Swineheart seemed to be the one able to glean the most information. She was the street’s gossip. Somehow she had an ear to the wall, and could furnish everyone (even those who pretended not to be interested) with details of each killing; in some cases with details that Constable Carrington hadn’t mentioned. For example, how did she know that Mrs Deidre Plonk had been shot just as she was whipping cream to put between two layers of her recently baked sponge cake? “You should have seen the blood in the whipped cream,” said Mrs Audrey Swineheart. “Apparently it looked exactly like she had whisked red food colouring into the cream.”
Then there was the case of Mr Dennis Druskovich. He had been stabbed in the back by a carving knife that his wife had given him for his birthday that very morning. “The handle still had its plastic on,” said Mrs Audrey Swineheart.
“I have no idea how she knows so much,” said Constable Carrington. “One wonders how much else she knows.”
The street was living in fear. Who would be the next victim? Tension grew. Then it happened. Mrs Audrey Swineheart was found lying dead in her passageway with an arrow in her back shot from an archer’s bow.
Constable Carrington called for a street meeting. “Mrs Audrey Swineheart’s death is a terrible tragedy as is any death. However, I’m happy to announce that there will be no more murders on the street. The sole murderer involved has been permanently disarmed.”
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