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Brough Island sat off the south coast of Devon in the south West of England. It had recently been bought by the US tech billionaire, Bryan Hedge. Bryan Hedge had become rich by the sheer hard work of having very rich parents and very good advisors.
The tiny island could only be reached by boat and only when the tides and weather allowed. It was one of Mr Hedge’s eccentricities that it had no telephone connection to the mainland and mobile phones were confiscated from any guests while they stayed there. He claimed it gave him a peaceful sanctuary in a world he had done so much to make noisy.
There were just four buildings on the island. There was a large mansion where Hedge would entertain his guests and three smaller, much smaller, cottages. Two of these were occupied by Hedge’s housekeeper and chef, while the third was currently empty.
On that fateful weekend, Hedge had invited three men to stay whom he thought might be useful to him: Colonel Colman, a retired British Army officer keen to root out any communist threat; Reverend Day, an American teleevangelist who had, surprisingly, not yet been found to have committed massive fraud or been caught in a brothel in the way of many of his colleagues; and Professor Peach, a researcher into lifeextending drugs at the University of St Andrews.
Hedge was particularly interested in the Professor’s work. Hedge had more money than he could possibly spend in one lifetime and so he was hoping Peach could get him two or three more.
Each man had brought a companion with them.
Colman had brought Mrs Bright, a large, matronly woman who had, in fact, been a matron at Colman’s local hospital during his last bout of treatment. She was there partly to ensure he took his medicine but also because she understood his ual needs in a way that no sane woman had done before.
Rev Day had brought Mrs Swallow, his accountant and spiritual advisor. She had worked for Rev Day for around ten years as he had moved from selling used cars, via a pyramid scheme involving cyber currency, until he had found his true calling as a Man of God.
Professor Peach had had a number of candidates to bring on the weekend among his PhD students. He had finally chosen Miss Rose because of her outstanding qualifications, which could clearly be seen poking against the tight red dress she had worn to dinner on the Friday evening.
On Friday evening, Hedge had welcomed them all to dinner in the massive dining room. The food had been cooked by Hedge’s personal chef and was served by the chef and the housekeeper. The housekeeper and chef cleared up after dinner and went back to their cottages.
The talk at dinner had centred on how clever Mr Hedge was and how wise he had been in making his fortune. They talked about Hedge’s thoughts about entering politics. Not as a candidate, obviously. That would involve meeting the ordinaries. He was above that. He would simply back some uncultured, rich arsehole who wanted to compensate for being bullied by bullying the whole country.
It must be said that most of the talk about Mr Hedge was by Mr Hedge.
After dinner, they had moved to the library where Hedge had poured them Cognac so expensive that the thought of the cost completely drained any enjoyment they might have derived from it.
And then they all retired to their separate bedrooms.
The next morning, I came in.
I gathered all of the guests in the library at ten o’clock.
“I’m Detective Inspector Bartleby of Scotland Yard. Mr Hedge has been found dead, floating by the jetty where the boats from the mainland dock.”
“Did he drown?” asked Professor Peach.
“Possibly. But he had been shot through the head and stabbed through the heart. We’re working on the theory that foul play may have been involved” I replied.
“Can any of you think of a reason why somebody might have wanted to harm him?” I asked.
It took me some time to quieten the resulting clamour as so many reasons were given I had difficulty recording them all in my official, policeissue notebook.
I went on “Mr Hedge’s ludicrously expensive wrist watch stopped at 12:15 this morning. It does not appear to have been waterproof, after all. This gives an indication of when he entered the water. I need you all to account for where you were just after midnight. I will interview you each separately in the drawing room and then we will meet back here in the library. “
Here follows the account given by the six guests, as recorded in my official Police notebook.
********************
Colonel Colman
We all left the table just before midnight after drinking Hedge’s ridiculous Cognac. Honestly, he knows nothing about fine wine. It’s all a matter of the cost to him. Anyway, I went up to bed. I got changed into my nightshirt and Mrs Bright came in to give me my medication. I don’t think I need it but she says I keep claiming to be Napoleon if I miss too many doses.
But I was feeling frisky and decided to be awkward about it. Mrs Bright was having none of it. With a swift movement of her left arm she’d got me over her lap. She pulled up my nightshirt and gave me a sound spanking on my bare buttocks. She really laid it on until I was crying out for her to stop.
Anyway, I found the spanking quite exciting, if you know what I mean, and something had come up between us. Mrs Bright called me a very naughty boy but dealt with the interloper quite efficiently into one of the tissues she always carries with her.
I then took my medicine like a good boy and slept soundly until this morning.
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Mrs Bright
I’d sat at the dinner bored to tears by the conversation. I didn’t drink because I knew I’d need a clear head to deal with the Colonel. He always gets uppity when he’s been drinking.
We came up to bed around midnight and I went to the Colonel’s room to give him his meds. I found him on his knees literally searching for reds under the bed. It was definitely time for his pills. But he was, as I’d predicted, in a defiant mood.
There’s only one way to deal with naughty boys, no matter what age they are. So I put him across my knee, raised his nightshirt and gave him a sound spanking on his more than adequate bottom.
Like all naughty boys, he got excited and Matron had to deal with the unwelcome intrusion by jerking his wicked instrument until it was spent. I then gave him his tablets and he went to bed. I returned to my own room and went to bed. I certainly did not play with myself when I got there and you can’t prove I did.
*********************
It seemed to me that, either these two were in it together, or their alibis backed each other up. I called in the next suspect, Reverend Day.
********************
Reverend Day
I was invited by Mr Hedge to give him some spiritual advice. He could have called in a local vicar but I think he thought I’d understand the problems faced by a very rich man more than a penniless parson might. He’s hoping Peach will come up with some elixir to keep him alive but he’s using me as some sort of insurance in case he ends up in front of St Peter. And I offer very reasonable rates for onetoone guidance.
We had a good dinner and some very fine Cognac. I assume it was very fine Cognac. Hedge said it was, repeatedly.
I went to bed around midnight. At about ten past my accountant, Mrs Swallow, came in so that I could check some figures. Well, her figure in particular. You’ve seen her, haven’t you? Not bad for an overforty.
Anyway, I had to check her workings, if you get my drift. I regret to say that I was a poor sinner. No, scrub that, I was a pretty good sinner. Mrs Swallow was well pleased as I bestowed my blessing upon her.
After she’d cleaned my blessing up, she went back to her own room.
*******************
I then spoke to Mrs Swallow.
*******************
Mrs Swallow
I’ve been the Reverend’s accountant ever since he was selling timeshares in Florida. We have a close relationship. I often go to his room at night so that he can give me ecclesiastical training. I went there last night soon after we’d gone to bed at midnight.
When I arrived, he was lying naked on the bed and he asked me to help out with something that had come up. I was happy to oblige and took his clerical staff into my mouth and worked it up and down. He cried out to his Lord a few times before leaving an offering across my naked chest.
I cleaned up and returned to my room at about 12:30.
********************
Another couple whose alibis backed each other up. Was everybody engaged in some sort of ual activity at midnight last night? I called in the next supsect, Professor Peach.
*********************
Professor Peach
I’ve been working on my lifeextending drug for about ten years. It’s only in the last few years that I’ve been getting funding from people like Hedge. Money can buy these people everything except eternal life.
I’ll happily take their money but I doubt I’ll ever produce what they want. Not in their lifetimes anyway, which is rather the point. I have managed, possibly, to extend the life of a mouse by about thirty minutes but nobody could say for sure when that mouse was due to die anyway. Tricky little blighters, mice.
I was invited here and Hedge suggested I bring an assistant. Miss Rose seemed wellqualified. She not only has a brilliant mind, she fills out a lab coat beautifully.
We all ate together and then had that foul Cognac that Hedge had boasted about. I made sure Miss Rose had a few glasses to help her, er, relax.
We all went to bed at about midnight. Miss Rose was in the room next door to mine. I called her in to my room to talk about a combination of different fluids I was considering. She was very helpful.
In fact, we moved onto a practical experiment of fluid combination straightaway. We tried several different methods, each one taking slightly longer than the last. We ended up staying awake all night working on this experiment. She left my room at about 8:00 this morning. I was exhausted.
*************************
Miss Rose confirmed this alibi, at some length.
***************************
Miss Rose
I was not surprised when Professor Peach invited me to come on this trip. The dirty old sod has been trying to get into my knickers ever since I started my PhD.
His research is completely worthless, of course. But he’s happy to take these idiots’ money and it pays for my own research and qualification.
So I came to this weekend and sat through a tedious dinner while Hedge droned on and on about how wonderful he was. I did like the Cognac though. Peach was obviously trying to get me drunk but I have a good head for alcohol. I’d decided to sleep with him anyway. He didn’t need to seduce me. I need this PhD.
Just after we’d gone to bed around midnight, the Professor called me in on some pretext, as I’d expected him to. Without any preliminaries, he pulled me to him and started to undo the red dress that showed off my figure so well. He seemed surprised that I put up no resistance. What would be the point? Better to just get it over.
I stood in front of him so that he could see my 36D breasts held only by my white lacy bra. He fumbled with its clasp clumsily. I helped him out and my breasts fell free. He suckled on one erect nipple like a hungry child while it seemed he was trying to pick up radio signals by twisting the other one.
He pulled off my knickers revealing my neatly trimmed bush. He struggled to get his belt undone so, again, I had to help. I pushed his trousers and underpants down together.
I’m not hugely experienced but the massive cock I revealed was bigger than anything I had encountered as a student. It must have been 23 cm long. Sorry, we scientists always use the metric system. That’s about nine inches. And it was thick too. Maybe the night would be better than expected.
He somehow got the rest of his clothes off and helped me onto the bed. We moved easily into a sixtynine position. He was more adept once he was horizontal than had seemed possible when we were both standing up. We licked and sucked each other happily and he worked a couple of fingers into my willing chamber until I came hard. He followed almost immediately, flooding my mouth with his hot seed.
We moved to face each other and …
********************
At this point, I interrupted Miss Rose. I had not expected quite so much detail. My policeman’s senses were aroused. As was I. Once I had made suitable adjustments, I completed Miss Rose’s statement and it complemented Professor Peach’s in every lurid detail.
So, had they killed Hedge in pairs or had they all been in it together? I’d eliminated the chef and the housekeeper earlier. Or was there something else going on here?
I called them all back into the library.
“A couple of questions remain,” I said. “Which I hope you’ve all spotted. Does Scotland Yard send detectives out to investigate murders without involving the local police? And how did I manage to get to the scene so early before anyone had even discovered the body?”
There was a murmuring among the assembly. Questions were being asked and voices raised.
“Actually” said Miss Rose. “We’ve only got your word for it that there even was a body,”
Clearly, this intelligent young woman was going to go far. Although, by her own account, she’d gone pretty far the previous night.
Just then, the library door opened.
“Good morning all” said Bryan Hedge.
