Jodie Amsterdam arrived at 503 Shadowbird Lane at precisely 11 am, Monday morning. She had been called, not by the police, but by an acquittance of the family who owned the mansion on Shadowbird Lane, a towering victorian built in the early 1800s that sat atop a prominent hill in town. At night with its gas lamps on--electricity had been installed in the late 50s, but upon request of The Admiral, the families name for the patriarch of the family, one Admiral Thom Grandston, the gas lamps remained untouched and intact. "For tradition," The Admiral had insisted. "An a sense of atmosphere"--the mansion took on a fiery visage, as if it were glaring down at the rest of Shadow Brook, the quiet town in which the mansion resided.
What brought Jodie Amsterdam to the mansion at 503 Shadowbird Lane was not entirely greeted with glee, nor was it a terrible tragedy. At least, not for Jodie Amsterdam, that is. What brought her to the mansion that day was a simple case of murder.
Ms. Amsterdam had been friends with the Grandstons for years, going back to her school days at St. Elderbirch's School for Girls. She attended with the eldest Grandston child, Cynthia. The two had been fast friends. Cynthia, having grown up in the staid atmosphere of Mansion de Grandston, was naturally drawn to Jodie's more adventurous side. That she had a cool, understated confidence about her helped ease Cynthia into the more legally ambivalent adventures they found themselves in.
A member of Mensa since the age of sixteen, Jodie had never struck Cynthia as the flamboyant iconoclast her family always insisted she was, and so when her younger brother Rod turned up dead, she had no qualms about calling in her old friend.
"Jodie, thank you so much for coming."
"Of course, kitten. Anything for a friend. Although," she said, a coquettish raise to her brow, "I hope this this unexpected call is not merely about your idiot brother."
Cynthia blushed. They had also been lovers for most of heir formative years. And throughout most of college. Then on and off again in their early twenties. Nothing terribly serious. A call in the night. A midnight rendezvous. Drinks, kinks, and a feather or two. Cynthia had never been with any remotely close to Jodie Amsterdam.
"Jodie," she said, stifling something between a laugh and a gasp. "My brother."
"That old fool. What happened, one of his 'deals' fall through again?"
Rod Grandston in his short twenty-five years of life, had earned a reputation as something of a conman. Dating back to his days at St. Augusts School for Boys, he always had his fingers in something morally ambivalent. The sale of promiscuous pictures, stock tips gleamed from nights spent sitting up with his father and his CEO friends--a trend Mr. Grandston deluded himself into believing was a sign that his son was growing up and positioning himself for great things--fencing stolen jewelry, and the good old fashioned standby: drugs.
After Rod graduated from St. August, a feat only made possible due to a generous donation from the Grandston family fortune, the cons never stopped, and only continued to evolve into absurdity. His latest scheme involved the illegal import of even more illegal diamonds that he then transferred into the hands of a jewelry maker he had met once at one of his "networking events." A drug-fueled party replete with expensive escorts and nefarious guests.
"Actually," Cynthia said, not entirely sure how to feel about her friend's brisk attitude toward her brother's demise, "it looks more like a break-in."
"Five hundred years this atop this hill, how many break-ins has your family suffered?"
"Well, counting the time great auntie Mildred accidentally drove her car through the veranda and into the sunroom?"
Jodie shook her head.
"And what makes you believe now would be different?"
"Well," and at that, Cynthia lowered her voice. "Rod wasn't exactly associated with the best of people."
"Your family has been billionaires before people could even count that high, my dear. None of your relations have ever been with the best of people." Then, grabbing a piece of the soft flesh of her friend's cheek,
The following challenges were completed during the writing exercise:
Begin Start typing to begin
Words Reach 50 words
Location A mansion
Event A murder needs to be solved
Words Reach 100 words
Words Reach 200 words
Words Reach 300 words
Words Reach 400 words
Words Reach 500 words
Character A curious jewellery maker
Words Reach 600 words
Letter Use the letter M
Words Reach 700 words
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