MRS.CLARK’S DEATH

MRS.CLARK’S DEATH

My name is Alan Smith and I am the great-great-grandson of the United Kingdom’s prime minister and private detective named Harry Smith. I am a twenty six years old man and I work by Scotland Yard as a police inspector. I have a wife called Nicole and two child: one boy and one girl. Their names are Andrew and Cassandra. I was borned in London on December the 31st, 2001. My parents are scottish and they are named George and Lilybeth.

I am tall and thin. I have a brown courly hair and a brown eyes too. Under my nose I have a moustache and under my chin, I have a bit of beard. I am a shy person but I have five friends. Four brothers: two of them are famous and they are named Viktor and Anne who were borned in Germany and their surname is Leichter. Viktor is a writer and Anne is a thief who robbed three million of pounds in a bank near Edinbourgh. The other two aren’t famous but one of them helps me to investigate some cases. His name is Peter Stone and he has a beautiful sister named Amanda.

The last friend that I have is the lieutenant John Morrison. He lives with his wife in Cardiff and he has four child with the first wife that he had. His children life nowadays in Barcelona with their mum.

That night I was in my living room reading the newspaper when John phoned me to tell me something very important. “Alan, I want to say you some news… Mrs.Clark was killed by someone yesterday and I need help to investigate the murder. Can you help me and come to Cardiff?” he asked me very nervous.

I didn’t answer but when I hanged up the phone, I prepared my suitcase and I kissed Nicole to say goodbye. I went out of our home and got into my white Smart car to go to the capital of Wales and help my friend.

When I arrived it was Monday. I went to the hotel and I checked in. I upstairs and I opened the door of my room. I put my clothes inside the cupboard and when I finished, I went out going to the police station to talk with John Morrison.

He saw and offered me a cup of coffee. While he was preparing the drink, he began to tell me all the success. “Our comrades are asking some questions to Mr.Clark while the commissary was investigating the family of the victim. We think that she had something with someone but we don’t know what, who and why!” he told me. “What do you think?” he asked me with a little fear.

“I think the same. But I affirm that the killer is not one member of her family like her sister, brother, parents or husband… I think is her lover or someone who works with her!” I answered.

“At the moment we know that she don’t has a lover!” he said me. “We know that she has a lot of enemies but no lovers or something like that!” he declare very irritated.

The commissary came on to talk with us. He explained that the victim was poisoned with cyanide in her meal. He told us too that she was a drug addict and she was kidnaped some months before her death because the kidnapper wanted her debt with him.

I asked the name of the kidnapper and he told us that he was in jail nowadays. He gave us the address of the jail to go to the prison on the next morning. We went to the restaurant to eat something and after that, I came to the hotel to sleep.

The following day I waked up and I breakfast two eggs, three sausages and a bit of rice too. When I finished my breakfast my father phoned me to say that Nicole was arrested by the police because she was suspected to help my friend Anne Leichter with the robber of one jeweller’s.

I hanged up very unhappy while I went with my car to catch and bring the lieutenant Morrison to the prison with me.

We arrived and we had to show our badges to the guard to come in. I parked the car and we asked for our odd named Quentin Redhorse. He was in the cell number 38 and we went to visited him.

Another guard opened the door and we came on. When we were inside with Mr.Redhorse, the guard close the cell and we began to talk with him. He was very arrogant and he told us something very important. Morrison writted the information and we went out of the jail.

“So, her parents wanted to kill their daughter because of her addiction. Isn’t it?” I asked very happy because of the news.

“Exactly my dear Smith but you don’t have the proves!” he declare. “We only have the conversation with Quentin but I think that the judge will decide to declare nullity this prove!” he said.

Only we have to talk with her parents and ask some questions to her husband again.

When we arrived at police station, the commissary told us some more news which didn’t help us with the case and forced us to begin again with that very complicated case.

That evening the lieutenant phoned me to say that her father told him the truth and Scotland Yard arrested him. I went out of the hotel and when I arrived at police station the commissary explained me that while John Morrison was taking care of him, someone killed the victim’s father, mother and husband.

John Morrison discovered a knive into the cell and the scientific police discovered two guns too with the fingerprints of her principal enemy. She was named Noah Anderson and she lives in America with her family.

Noah Anderson was the president of United States and the most important member of the Republican Party of States.

They phoned her to explain that they wanted to talked with her in London that weekend. She answered positively and on Thursday morning they organised the police operation to arrest Noah.

On Sunday, when Mrs.Anderson came to talk with them, Scotland Yard arrested her and I could ask some questions. She told the truth and explained us that Mrs.Clark wanted to be the new president of the party and occupy her charge to become the Prime Minister of United States. Anderson didn’t want this and ordered to Quentin and the victim’s father to kidnap and kill Mrs.Clark.

The judge decided to close her in an american jail and Noah Anderson resigned from her electoral charge.

I went to my house when I say goodbye to my friend John Morrison. My wife was talking with my father George after her freeing. She wasn’t the accomplice of my friend Anne Leichter and I kissed her to celebrate the zillionth victory.

Nine months later, on December the 27th, our third son was borned. He was named Alex Smith.

MRS.McGREGOR’S MURDER

MRS.McGREGOR’S MURDER

Harry Adam Smith was a police inspector who works by Scotland Yard. He was born on 1901 December the 23rd in Glasgow. He was tall and thin. He had a long brown courly hair and a brown eyes too. Under his medium-sized nose he had a bit of moustache and under his mouth and chin he had a bit of beard too. Inspector Smith had a wife named Jane.
The marriage were living in a small house near Inverness. They had two shy teenagers: Arthur was a seventeen years old boy and his sister Mary was a fifteen years old girl who was wonderful and magnificent.
When a man knocked the door that evening, I opened it. The foreign was
called Charles McGregor, my brother-in-law who lives in Manchester and
works as a baker. He said me that his wife was killed by someone in the street, two days before Christmas.
“I will investigate the murder” I said him. “But I can’t promise it. If the
commissary accept the case , I will help you... Ok?”. He was in silence three minutes and after this time, he went out of the room.
My son, who was behind the door, he said me he wanted help me. I accept his offer and I began to investigate the case. The following day we went to
McGregor’s home and Charles invited us to drink coffee with him and talked with us.
While he was explaining how his wife was discovered by him, I answered the commissary’s phone call. “We find some fingerprints on the gun but we don’t know who is the main suspected of the crime!” he told me. “I think your wife will be the killer. Isn’t it?” he asked me.
“Yes. Will be possible but Mr.McGregor explained us that his wife had a debt with someone. I think Charles is the killer because she had a lover or his wife often had smack him!” I answered. “I am seeing some wounds on his face and on his arms and legs!” I explained him.
When we finished asking the questions, we went out of his home. We went by my car, a green Simca Aronde, to the Police Station. We were greeted by the commissary called Simon McAllan and he told us that the name of the killer was Andrew Peterson. McAllan gave us his postal address and when we finished to eat our lunch, Simon and I went to Peterson's house while my son went to my parents home to spend the afternoon.
We arrived at 3 p.m. and we knocked the door. A man opened it and invited us to drink a cup of tea. We accepted his friendly invitation and while he was preparing the teas, we sat on the sofa.
The living room was more beautiful and bigger than mine, decorated by some antique furniture and the famous Da Vinci’s paintings. I saw a letter and I opened it.
The letter was written by Andrew Peterson who wanted to send it to Mrs.McGregor because he was in love of her. Five minutes later, he served the teas and we began to talk with him.
“What did you do the night before Mrs.McGregor’s death?” I asked him.
“I was in my house watching the television with my wife named Anne. You
can talk with her if you will think that I am lying!” he answered very angry. “I have a twin who live in Glasgow but that day was in a hotel near Manchester... He is called Walter Peterson!” he added.
We went out of his home when we finished to drink the teas and we went to
the hotel mentioned by Andrew Peterson. When we arrived the commissary
decided to stay inside the car while I was asking the receptionist the people who were in hotel that night. Andrew Peterson was not lying us!
When I knew the news, I said it to Simon McAllan. He ordered his police
officers and other members of his Police Station that they ought to go to
Walter Peterson’s home to arrest him because of Mrs.McGregor’s murder and other crimes caused by him.
The judge decided to declare Walter Peterson not guilty because of the murder but I demonstrated that he was the killer. Six month later, before the beginning of the Second World War, the judge closed Walter in a jail near London.
We celebrated the victory in a scottish pub and I resigned the post of
inspector to become a private detective and the new Prime Minister of United Kingdom. My son got marriage with his girlfriend.

WILLIAM HARRY BLACK'S MURDER

                                  WILLIAM HARRY BLACK'S MURDER
Two weeks before April I got marriage with my girlfriend Mary Clark and my brother William Harry Black was killed by someone. Scotland Yard arrested me because of the murder and a severe judge closed me in a jail situated on the north of Scotland.
Eight month later I went out of the prison and my father gave me a new car... It was a brown C3 citroën which made me very happy. He said me that John Moore had a new case for me and I went with my wife to the police station. The commissary explained me that he had a clue about William Harry’s murder and he wanted to show me where he discovered it.
We went to the scene of the crime by my new car while my wife went with my father to our house. When we arrived at the hotel where Mary and I spend the nuptial night, I began to cry and cry. Why the judge thought that I was the killer? I was a bad person in his opinion?
I upstairs to the second floor and I went into my brother’s room. John Moore asked some questions to the receptionist and lieutenant Peter Smith stayed inside the car waiting our come. I found a knive stained with blood and fingerprints. I brought out to show to my friends and one day after that success the forensic explained us that the fingerprints was of a person named Simon McWood.
John Moore explained me who was Mr.McWood and where does he live nowadays. He is a famous thief and he live in a big city near London: Stratford-upon-Avon, the village where William Shakespeare borned four hundred and fifty four years ago. I went with him to asked some questions.
It is a sunny day and the birds are on the top of the trees singing songs to make a smile on the people who are unhappy every day. We arrived at twelve o’clock and we go, firstly, to the restaurant to lunch a big dish of rice with fried eggs and tomato soup. When we finished to ate our lunch, we went to Simon McWood’s home to drink a cup of coffee and talked with him.
He opened the door and invited us to came on his little and comfortable house. We sat on a big sofa while he was making the coffee. It was a very nice living room decorated with his family’s images. The wall was painted by him with a lot of different types of blue and yellow. He had one Picasso’s painting and a lot of flowers too.
“What did you do when my brother was killed by someone?” I asked him when he brought the coffees. “Did you stay in our dinner or did you went to talked with him and killed him?” 

“Why?” he asked. “What are you trying to say me? That I am the killer?” McWood asked me while commissary Moore was reading a message written by the judge who close me eight month ago.
“I don’t want offend you. I’m just trying to know who is the killer!” I answered his question with a little apprehension. At this time, John Moore explained me that he ought to came to the office because the judge wanted to talk with him and few minutes after, he went out of the house.

Simon McWood took out a gun and shoot me three cannonballs on my legs to stop me if I will wanted went out of his home. He began to tell me the truth while the sky became dark because of the clouds.
“It was two years ago. One night someone knocked the door because of the rain and wanted to talked with me. He said me “I want to kill someone, so, I need help!” while I was preparing the dinner. The victim was named William Harry John Black, your brother. He gave me your wedding dinner invitation and he advised me that if I will not wanted to cause the murder, he would kill me!”.
“Do you know his name?” I asked him. “On the one hand, if you help us, you will be closed until one year. On the other hand, if you not help us, you will be closed the rest of your live. You choose. If I would be you, I will choose “help us”!”.
“His name was Charles McBlood!”. he answered offering another cup of coffee. “He live in Glasgow with his family and he works as a journalist on the BBC radio. You could find him only the laboral days because he spend the weekends in London with his grandparents!”.
I called commissary John Moore and I explained him that. When he hanged up the phone, I called an ambulance and I spend two days in hospital. When I went out of the hospital I went with my friends to arrest Charles McBlood while the lieutenant Peter Smith arrested Simon McWood.
John Moore asked to Mr.McBlood why he wanted to kill my brother and he said him because William Harry was a lot of selfish, cheeky, jealous and very violent with him. “He punched me when we were pupils and he went on the same classroom as me!”. This answer remembered me something: when I was young, one day, I wanted to kill him because he said me that I was ugly and bad person.
When we finished to celebrate the victory my father said me that Mary Clark and I have two babies: son and daughter. The son was named Andrew Argider and the daughter Sophie Eloïse.