Polly Wants a Carat
The Butler Didn't Do It
Marry Nikolaev normally would never leave her jewelry laying around, but she was alone this day. 2 diamond rings ranging from 10 to 15 carats. She only set it down for a moment. She was only gone for 3 minutes. When she came back, the rings were missing.
Detective Robert Logon came in to investigate.
“Mrs. Nikolaev”, he said, “was anyone else in the house.”
“No. I was all alone. Wait, I did leave the window open. Could someone have been watching and came through the window?”
“Could be. Let me walk around.”
After a short walk around the house, he said, “I’ve solved the case. Mrs. Nikolaev, you have an obsession with birds. You have ceramic birds in almost every room. You have 3 birds cages. You have bird seeds on your windowsill.”
“I like birds.”
“I also noticed the bird cage in your room isn’t locked. Your bird was a prime suspect. Don’t worry, he’s innocent. Someone was watching you, Mrs. Nikolaev. Look out the window. What do you see?”
“A bird.”
“A mother bird in a next to be exact. What do you see in the nest?”
“Eggs.”
“2 very shiny eggs. Looks like diamonds to me!”
About the Creator
David E. Perry
Writing gives me the power to create my own worlds. I'm in control of the universe of my design. My word is law. Would you like to know the first I ever wrote? Read Sandy:
Keep reading
More stories from David E. Perry and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Switched at First
Greg Hopkins flew down the road in his black 2006 Ford GT at over 300 miles per hour. He would have to slow down, but as long as he had a straight path, he would not allow the cops to catch him. He had just stolen the latest addition to his art collection. A priceless, previously unknown, painting by Gilbert Stuart. This would be his 10th in the last 3 years.
By David E. Perry12 months ago in Fiction
Waste Not, Want Not
October winds carry chilled tidings over the lake's murky waters, promising a hard winter. Lillian stands on the shore, a colorful shawl wrapped tightly around her diminutive frame, head tilted upward, eyes closed in contemplative silence. Her tawny, yellowish-brown face is no longer etched with lines of worry but smooth; serene in the knowledge that another winter will pass her by unscathed.
By Kenny Penn3 days ago in Fiction
THE INHERITANCE - part three
THE INHERITANCE – part three ……… Welcome home ++++++++++ Kate Sullivan inherited the house that once belonged to her great-grandmother. The old stone house sat on the edge of a ten-acre plat of land in Aughacasla, Ireland. Two weeks ago, she’d never heard of the small town and now, she owned a piece of it.
By Margaret Brennan5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
This was very clever!