HERCULE POIROT wore a nicely fitted eggshell white silk Tommy Bahama suit. The long pants were pleated and the jacket was stitched in an elegant style. It looked like a tuxedo but it had a beachy style. The strangest thing was the moustaches.Following a strange yet intriguing request promising that a very rich Mr. Oswald Nuñez would seek to buy a luxurious condo in Fort Lauderdale, clever Poirot took on a job as a secretarial interpreter at a Fort Lauderdale beach realty company owned by a tycoon real estate agent Armando Colt.

"Howard says you're the best!" Armando Colt started, "so, we got a lot of foreign customers, you know. They speak English but not well enough, you know, that's why we gotta hire somebody to help interpret what's not understood."

"That's why you're most successful," Poirot added.

Impressed and flattered, Armando Colt smiled.

"You'll do other things here besides interpretation," Armando Colt went on, "if a contract or condo questionnaire needs to be translated, that'll be your job."

"Excellent."

"If you want to get started," Armando Colt said, "I actually got three personal financial disclosures that need to be translated for Felipe Reifschneider... You do do German, right?"

"Aber natürlich!"

"Sehr gut!"

Besides getting his work done, Poirot searched every single file in the Fort Lauderdale computer database only merely doing what detectives liked to do: being impertinently nosy. Poirot took his lunch break and walked over to POLLO TROPICAL. There he ordered a quarter chicken, white rice and black beans with a side of yuca and plantains. He sat by himself against the blue wall in the vibrantly colored restaurant where many guests entered and exited. An interesting bit of conversation intrigued him.

"You're kidding!" A male voice sounded, "after all this time, you think you're just gonna quit like that!"

"Why do you care so much about this deal, Simon?" A female voice sounded, "you told me to do this for you and I'm getting tired of conning all these clients! You're a bad lot!"

"Listen," the male voice went on, "Felicia, you gotta do this- just a couple more days, okay? We'll get all the money from the commission and we'll take a vacation. Just you and me."

"I'm not coming back, then," the female said.

"Fine!"

After he finished his meal, Poirot waited for the couple to continue their conversation as they ate.

"How much money are we talking about?"

"At least fifty thousand upfront," the male said.

"Simon, this is risky. Are you sure we're gonna get away with it?"

"Leave it to me, Felicia, just do your part. I'm running an legitimate business here."

They both laughed.

Poirot wondered...

As the young couple were leaving, Poirot followed them at a distance. He, at least, wanted to see if they had an office. He had to be quick, though, and bumped into them instead as he walked along the sidewalk on A1A looking up.

"Oh, sorry," he said in a fake foreign accent, "the sun- blind me!"

"It's okay," Simon said.

Felicia looked at Poirot and almost giggled.

They started to walk away. He had a hunch.

"Hey! You guys know a Fort Lauderdale realtor? Where he?"

Poirot saw them looking at each other very closely; as if they had a certain secret glance. Suspicious, yet they approached the stranger.

"What are you looking for?" Simon asked.

"I looking buy a condo," Poirot said.

"Where you from?" Felicia asked.

So, they probably target rich tourists.

"Portugal," Poirot made up.

"We have a couple of condos we can show you," Simon said.

So, they are realtors.

"You realtors?"

"Yeah... Um- escrow," Simon said, "here."

Simon handed Poirot a business card. Poirot wondered if this was a shell corporation or just really bad business...

"Merci!" Poirot said walking away.

Poirot found Armando Colt about to exit the office. The giant glass door closed slowly.

"Hey!" Armando Colt said invitingly, "we just got lucky; we're getting a big hit tomorrow! I know it's Saturday, but it'll be great to have you onboard with this new client."

"Sounds great! Count me in," Poirot said, "who's the client?"

"Some guy from Costa Rica; Núñez, I think," Armando Colt said.

After three days of employment, Poirot's lead had come quicker than what he had expected; Mr. Oswald Nuñez, at last.

"Okay," Poirot said absent-mindedly, "hey! Armando, do you know this guy?"

He handed Armando Colt Simon's business card. Holding it between his fingertips, Armando Colt laughed.

"What a bum!" He said, "this guy Simon Dumas used to work for me. Looks like he's still doing dirty business. Hmpf! He's pathetic. Did you meet him?"

"Yes, it seems I did."

Armando Colt pocketed the card.

"Where?" He asked.

"Out by pollo tropical."

"Figures..." Armando Colt scoffed, "hey, listen, I gotta run. I left two closing disclosure documents for you on the desk. And tomorrow, I'll take you out for lunch at a real restaurant; my treat, okay?"

"Why, thank you, sir!" Poirot smiled.

Armando Colt walked away. And as Poirot stood by that immense glass door entrance to Fort Lauderdale Realty, he wondered why Armando Colt still kept Simon Dumas' business card...

Facing the Nile River, the very rich millenial Ridgeway girl was enjoying her honeymoon on the river boat - until she saw someone she hated... that dreaded Fox News-Reporter... So, she already had something planned...

Linnet Doyle was confronted by the esteemed Fox news reporter Lady Oswald Cootes; their encounter wasn't a pleasant one because Linnet had assumed that everything Lady Cootes had press-released was just more than gossip but actually here-say nonsense that was alarmingly disturbing to her self-acclaimed reputation.

"Well, my word!" Lady Oswald Cootes said aloud, "if it isn't Linnet Doyle, my dear, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance-"

Linnet Doyle cut the lady off with with venomousity in her demeanor.

Linnet pushed back her head in contempt; her long gorgeous hair swaying back and forth.

Linnet Doyle glared at Lady Cootes.

Lady Oswald Cootes' mouth and jaw dropped and stayed open for a moment.

"Please close your mouth," said Linnet, once again, "it's very unladylike!"

Lady Oswald watched as Linnet Doyle retrieved an iPhone from a corner, clicking stop on a recording. Linnet went past Lady Cootes.

Lady Cootes, in rage, and thinking she was all alone, slapped her hand against the railing.

"Ooh-" Lady Cootes murmured, "I'll kill her..."

No one heard that- except for Hercule Poirot, who stood, hidden, holding onto the riverboat railing...

Poirot’s buddy, Babosa, could be a blue slug like scarab beetle looking creature with huge beady eyes and enormous wire moustaches.

Poirot was looking for something in the Temple of Styles. There were certain little crevices that the human being himself could not reach. The hieroglyphs all around seemed to point out that there might be something missing. It was like a puzzle piece.

Poirot held out his hand to reveal a pocket watch. On top of the pocket watch, the little creature, Babosa, moved.

“Do you see it?” Poirot asked it.

“Do you suppose something is in there, Poirot?” asked Babosa.

“Oui, mon petit,” Poirot said, “you are small as I am not. Is there any way you can squeeze in there and find something?”

Poirot then placed the pocket watch on the wall of that inscription. Babosa slithered its way to the slight little opening. There must be something beyond that wall and Poirot had to know just what the thing was hiding in secret.

“What am I looking for?” Babosa asked.

“A clue, my little friend,” said Poirot, “go and see.”

Babosa then wiggled its tiny body through that crevice and Poirot waited.

Poirot kneeled and tried to look through that tiny crevice with magnifying glass.

And through that solemn silence of the dead pharaoh’s tombed hallways, a series of foot steps were approaching gradually.

“Aha!” a voice resounded in echos.

Poirot then turned and unexpectedly dropping the magnifying glass that shattered on the tomb’s barren floor.

“Monsieur Shaitana!” said Poirot.

Alarmed, Poirot stirred quickly and started to back away from the spot he had been investigating and as to not let his contemporary find out what he had already discovered, Poirot kicked the broken glass towards Shaitana.

“Monsieur Poirot,” said Shaitana, “I see you’ve discovered the pharaoh’s black mark. I must admit, mon cher, I'm surprised to find you here…”

“You are a contemptible man, Mr. Shaitana!” Poirot uttered, “it’s enough already that you have let a murderer escape his fate, but now here as I am about to unravel an ancient historical artifact, I will see to it that you will not once again get away with it.”

Automatically thinking ahead in defense, Poirot then clutched his cane that he had previously left hanging by the snout of an Anubis statue.

“Monsieur Poirot,” Shaitana said slyly, “you and I are one in the same but at two different dimensional points. You, the good, the white and pure and I, the evil, the black and twisted. Don’t tempt me, monsieur.”

A voice cried out from the other side of that wall.

“I found it!” Babosa called out.

Shaitana heard it, too.

Poirot froze.

Babosa slithered out of that crevice and faced the two gentlemen outside.

“Uh-oh!” Babosa said unexpectedly, “Did I come out at a bad time?”

Realizing that he wasn’t the only one with a animal buddy, Shaitana then unhinged from his belt as he then revealed his ominous pet: some kind of red and black snake like looking creature with talons above its optic tentacles.

“Not at all,” said Shaitana, “tell me, little friend, what did you find?”

“Don’t say anything,” shouted Poirot.

“I see,” Shaitana said, “you’ve also come in contact with the mystical creatures of the little gray cells, monsieur Poirot. How delightful!”

That snake like creature hissed. The snake like creature started to uncoil itself up and when it stood upright it revealed a terrific set of deadly fangs.

“I present to you,” Shaitana announced, “Esskaldar.”

“Babosssawwa…” Esskaldar hissed.

“Esskalderossa! You?” Babosa cried out in a war like manner.

“Where iss it? It’ss mine!” Esskaldar continued.

“You’ll never have it!” Babosa countered.

It seemed that Esskaldar knew what Babosa had found.

Curious about what Babosa had found but eventually, Poirot had to do something drastically and he did it right away. He held up his cane was about to whack that snake with it but Shaitana thus unsheathed a long sharp rapier and blocked Poirot’s attempt to destroy Esskaldar.

“Get the tiger’s eye, Esskaldar!” Shaitana shouted.

Esskaldar scurried up along the wall as Babosa wiggled itself back into the crevice.

Shaitana, with his rapier held up high over his head, was about to make his lunge against Poirot who stepped back quickly avoiding the blow.

Poirot swung his cane round and round like a baton and kept spinning it waiting for the right precise moment to release it in hopes to strike at Shaitana.

“This is it, Shaitana, isn’t it?” Poirot uttered, “all of what you’ve done will only end in disaster…”

Shaitana held his rapier with both his hands in front of him in attempt to block Poirot’s blow any minute now.

“Give it your best try, Poirot,” Shaitana said angrily, “you’re no match for me!”

And as it would have appeared that Poirot would release his cane from his powerful swing, a series of gun shots echoed through the halls of that ancient Egyptian tomb.

The sound of the gun shots was heard even from the other side the crevice and after Esskaldar had crawled inside of it, Babosa stood in front of a magnificent golden eye trinket. It was just about the same size of itself.

“You’re too late,” Babosa said, “Colonel Race and his minion, Tomislav, will be here to stop you…”

“Ha, ha,” laughed Esskaldar, “we’ll ssee about that…”

Babosa bounced up and down near the tiger’s eye rubbing its slimy optic tentacles all around it. Babosa was measuring it up with its mouth. And unexpectedly, Babosa swallowed the tiger’s eye knowing that it was about to evolve into some kind of terrific feline like creature.

Outside, Poirot watched as his cane flew out of his hands and with great force and struck Shaitana. 

Shaitana fell immediately almost nearly escaping the sharp and deadly pointed end of his very own rapier. Angrily he clutched the rapier at its hilt to strike Poirot and as he was about as to get up, a cold steel firearm pressed against the back of his head.

It was Poirot's friend to the rescue who kicked the rapier out of Shaitana's grasp.

"Mr. Shaitana, you better get up slowly," ordered Colonel Race.

"Mon ami, Colonel Race!" Poirot sighed in relief, "you have come at the very moment I most needed you. Merci. Merci."

Defeated, Shaitana lowered his head in shame but the most terrifying thing was yet to happen: that snake like creature limped over inside the mouth of a horrific cat like looking creature with sharp fangs bleeding with the blood dripping as it had just ripped apart the flesh and bones off the other creature.

Colonel Race's little slug like creature, Tomislav, held a dagger in its optic tentacles.

Poirot eyed that strange looking feline creature with terrified amazement.

"Babosa?" Poirot wondered.

"No!" Tomislav darted quickly, "what have you done to Babosa?"

The feline growled and then laughed.

"It's Miss Ratchett to you now!"

And Shaitana won.

"Linnet?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"To Temple of Styles..."

Linnet Doyle was moved from her unsightly surroundings and drawn to Simon. He was so big and strong. Linnet looked over at him secretly from the corner of her eye lids. She was staring at his thick and bulging muscles stretching his optic tentacles. Linnet smiled lightly and admired Simon's dreamy nails. There was something somewhat very attractively masculine about his nails. The only thing that bothered Linnet about Simon's nails was; they weren't painted. 

"Simon..." 

"Yes, Linnet, baby..."

"You're sweet. I've read all about this place."

Linnet Doyle looked at the whole place when she had arrived on the Temple of Styles. It was like a giant desert land with heaps of cosmic sands piling up in dunes. 

"There's not any information on the system archives about this place," Simon had said after a long silence. He looked out at the sea of dunes. Simon smiled. 

"You gotta see it to believe," he said. "I can't wait to show you around."

"Oh!" Linnet was thrilled. "Are we gonna ride in those mechanical bugs?"

Simon was surprised. That's why he was in love with Linnet Doyle. He admired her desire for adventure. 

"Oh, yeah, baby!" Simon let out, "I wanna let you ride it all by yourself-"

"No," Linnet cried, "I'd always like for you to pilot me."

The Temple of Styles was a breath-taking place. It was still. The cosmic sands were like glitter sparkling like little chunks of stars.

"Very well," Simon said. 

After disembarking the A-73 star vessel, Linnet Doyle was left to go on about herself and just wandered on about the magnificent plains while Simon started refueling. Linnet Doyle took a deep breath. How fair the air was here. 

"Are you ready?" Simon asked.

Linnet Doyle sighed in relief. It was slightly warm and she was excited about riding one of those metallic mechanical bugs. It was like a scarab.

Linnet Doyle looked up at Simon with dreamy eyes. 

"Yes."

And they ride out into the horizon on this shiny metallic bug. It was like a machine with fluttering wings that swooped over the glittering sands like as if it was gliding over the slick black waves of outer space. Linnet wrapped her optic tentacles tightly across Simon's pectorals. Simon smiled as he was being held by Linnet Doyle; these wondrous thoughts came across his mind. This is what he had wanted all along: to have her come across the galaxy to magnificent locations with him; at his side. Simon pressed the tip of his right optic tentacle on a digital console unto a keypad that maneuvered the mechanical bug while his left gripped a clutch gear that steered the machine. The buzzing bug car was quite noisy.

"Where are we going?" Linnet asked.

"There's something that I've got to show you..." Simon said calmly.

There had to be something special about this asteroid that Simon just had to stop here on his journey briefly. But something went wrong. Simon squinted hard as he came to realize that something was really terribly wrong.

“What is this?” Linnet was so upset.

Jackie came out from the Temple of Styles wriggling in laughter as her pink nails waved an ominous greeting.

“There you are, Linnet,” Jackie smiled, “what are you doing out here?”

Linnet looked back at Simon in horror.

“Jackie!” Linnet screamed.

Jackie was Linnet’s arch nemesis.

At the tip top of the Temple of Styles, Miss Marple was so outraged that she opened her umbrella in attempt to swoop over M. Poirot. 

Poirot looked up as Miss Marple glided over him. Poirot then thus held his magnifying glass and knocked Miss Marple over.

"You won't stop me, mister Poirot!"

"Miss Marple, you're a ruthless old hag fish! It will be I that will have the power to control Agathrawn!"

"In your dreams, you slimy escargot! Go back to le France."

Miss Marple swung her purple Victorian umbrella above her optic tentacles and missed hitting Poirot's eye.

"I'm from Brugge, isn't that weird?" Poirot laughed. He blocked Miss Marple's second failed attempt to strike his eye out.

"You can't stop me," Miss Marple said, "I'm the Nemesis!"

"And I," Poirot said defiantly, "I'm the mighty Hercule!"

Then there it was... It was heard ominously: a horrible scratching deliberately on the side of the temple. The temple of Styles started to escalate towards higher ground. The Temple started to crack from side to side...

Miss Marple took this opportunity to lift her little purple umbrella above her optic tentacles and struck Poirot. Poirot was knocked off the temple. Poirot then held tightly on his magnifying glass and lodged it in a crack on the side of the temple and as he pulled himself up, he tapped a secret button component at the tip of his glorious magnifying glass that had instantly turned it into a really cool skateboard.

Miss Marple gasped in awe. 

"I see you've got some neat gadgets, mister Poirot," Miss Marple uttered, "well, I do, too!"

"You'll never catch up to me!" Poirot said as he skated past Miss Marple in full velocity with the help of the little grey neutrino cells speed.

Miss Marple also turned her umbrella into a neat little helicopter and was catching up to Poirot.

"I will be the one who will turn on the Agathrawn," Miss Marple laughed as she sped past Poirot.

"No!" Poirot uttered quickly, "Miss Marple, look out!"

Poor Miss Marple, who was too busy looking back at Poirot and thinking she had beat the detective with the funny looking moustaches and flew right into the mouth of a dreadfully suspicious crocodile.

The crocodile swallowed Miss Marple with one gulp. Poirot, still skating, pondered what to do next. 

If only Colonel Race was here... But, of course, that was it! Think like Race. So, Poirot raced up to that horrible monster on his skateboard and faced it in terror, but with such refined courage.

"Let her go!" Poirot shouted at the crocodile. 

"If you want Miss Marple," said the smiling crocodile (that looked like a cat among the pigeons) and spread its claws out to grab M. Poirot, "come and get her!"

"Quelle horreur!" Poirot uttered, as he skated off the crocodile's nostril. 

The crocodile scoffed at the little light blue space detective with the moustaches. The crocodile huffed and stretched its mouth open and it snapped and crashed its teeth against each-other. Poirot was too late because when he had to maneuver a skating trick, the crocodile gulped down the little detective...

The creepy glowing yellow eyes on top of the crocodile's optic tentacles had little maniacal red squiggly lines on it; looked suspiciously at its surroundings, and went back to its slumber...

What do you think happened? Oh, my gosh! Like really did you just expect that these two space detectives just ended up to be a crocodile lunch? Oh, no, you didn't! Nobody liked my last story, like why not! As if anybody here had a better story to type up just like I did! Whatever!!!! 

So, Poirot used his magnifying glass gadget and turned it on like a flashlight. He had to be inside the crocodile, it seems.

"Miss Marple?" 

After all, Poirot was a good little grey cell. He shone his light over a whimpering little creature huddled in a corner. It was Miss Marple.

"Oh, dear!" Miss Marple was crying, "I'm honestly so happy to see you, mister Poirot..."

"Alas!" Poirot exclaimed, "you're safe!"

Suddenly, Miss Marple have Poirot a sharp glance. Miss Marple sighed. She knew what was going on. She wondered if Poirot did.

"Oh, dear! Do you know where we are, mister Poirot?" Miss Marple asked contemptuously. 

Of course, he knew; but being humble was what Poirot had learned long ago from a friend... Captain Hastings. So, then, under false pretenses, he helped Miss Marple out of the corner; he pretended to be dumb-founded. 

"No," he said, at last, "Miss Marple, I've not the slightest idea."

"Shut up!" Miss Marple let out, "you- pompous old sea slug! You know very well we're inside the Agathrawn..."

Poirot didn't know that, actually, but it was coming altogether now. The crocodile... in the jungle of the Nile... on top of the Temple of Styles... 

"No! No!" Poirot said, "the crocodile is the temple of Styles!"

"No! No!" Miss Marple said, too, "the crocodile is Agathrawn..."

It was indeed a mystery. What was Agathrawn? Or who was Agathrawn? Better yet, was there even such a thing as Agathrawn that could possibly exist? 

"Where's that double sin card, Miss Marple?" Poirot hastily inquired.

"What ever do you mean?" Miss Marple tried to evade.

"We have to use that double sin card to get out from inside this temple..." 

"Oh," Miss Marple realized, "is that what it was for? Oh, dear."

Poirot looked deeply into Miss Marple's eyes. Miss Marple stared at Poirot in a mistrusting kind of manner.

"We have to use the little grey cells," said Poirot, "and together we can escape the mystery of the Temple of Styles..."

I've just written a short story in the vein of Agatha Christie. I hope you enjoy the first chapter, please let me know if you would like to read more.

Jane C

Chapter 1            56B Whitehaven Mansions, Charterhouse Square, Londres, EC1 3 DP, April 1936

Miss. Lavender waited to see Monsieur Hercule Poirot after his secretary, Miss. Lemon, let her into the airy, fashionable flat at 56B Whitehaven Mansions. She was exactly as his capable secretary had described her: in her early twenties and wearing a tweed skirt and brogues that looked a little too small. Perhaps those tight shoes they were not hers? Perhaps they were borrowed for the occasion? Northern vowels coming through despite the elocution lessons. Twin set of pearls. Surely not hers either? Perhaps an elderly relative’s? A pale cashmere sweater. A prized possession? How could she have afforded it? A present from an older, married admirer? This was perhaps where Miss. Lemon went too far, n’est-ce pas? Yes, Miss. Lemon, so perceptive in her observations, always conveyed in hushed tones before showing in his guests, could  sometimes go too far:

“Here is the classic, Northern girl made good, Monsieur Poirot”.

The girl looked nervous as she entered the perfectly proportioned office, all clean lines and Art Deco objets d’art.

“Miss. Lavender,” announced Miss. Lemon.

Monsieur Poirot’s guest hovered nervously, gripping her clutch bag and gloves.

“Would you care to sit down, Mademoiselle? If you would be so kind as to tell to Hercule Poirot the reason for your visit?”

“I, I.” She hesitated.

“Continue, Mademoiselle”

“I, I, think I’m being poisoned.”

“And why would you think that, Mademoiselle?”

The girl looked distracted.

“A tisane, perhaps?”

“A…?”

“A tea?”

“Yes, yes please. A cup of tea.” What had Auntie always said? ‘A nice cup of tea. Everything will be better after a nice cup of tea’. But where was Auntie May now?

The funny little man with the boat shaped moustache rang a silver bell on his immaculate desk, and Miss. Lemon came silently through the sliding doors into the room. Miss. Lemon was a truly excellent secretary, so rare these days, both typing letters and attending to guests so efficiently, without complaint.

“Tea, if you please, Miss. Lemon.”

After an awkward wait, Miss. Lemon came in with the tea tray.

“Shall I pour, Miss.?”

Miss. Lavender looked confused, she was not used to being waited on, rather it was she who did the waiting. Monsieur Poirot, intervened diplomatically:

“If you would be so kind, Miss. Lemon?”

“Sugar, Miss.?”

“Oh, no I never. Oh yes please. Two, please. It will calm my nerves.”

‘So, Madamoiselle, tell to me your sad story from the beginning.’

Miss. Lavender recounted her mysterious tale from the advert in “The Lady” to receiving Poirot's business card at the City Hotel, Luxembourg.

“So I think I’m being poisoned.”

“And why do you think you’re being poisoned?”

“I’m getting headaches, feeling sick, I’m exhausted.”

“And who do you think is poisoning you, Mademoiselle?”

“Her, my mistress!”

“But why?”

 “Oh don’t you see, Mr. Poirot? She’s jealous. Jealous of me and her fancy man, Major Mustard!”

“But how?”

“Lavender, she gives me lavender soap from a friend in Provence. I started to be sick, I mean really sick, vomiting, when I started using the soap.”

I stopped typing and looked at the sprig of Lavender on my desk, the Lavender dress hanging up ready for dinner, and recalled Madame's words: “We were never allowed to wear black evening dresses at your age. It was always pastels, pinks, blues”. Madame was truly mad if she thought I’d be frightened by some Lavender. And yet I was.

THE BODY IS VANISHED

  Part I

LeVourne, his assistant and I went to the crime scene. His assistant’s name was Chucklemod. John Chucklemod. He was a young, amateur policeman. He had only a two-month experience but he had great qualifications. He had black like death eyes, black short hair and he was as tall as I. He was walking with unsure steps and he was a bit anxious.

   When we reached, the body had disappeared. It had vanished like smoke! LeVourne turned to me and looked at me. When he watches at me I feel that he is not looking at me but in my soul.

Chucklemod had a brilliant face and preferred not to look at the place the body was before but look for the dead body. And so did I. I did not do it to find the body but for not looking at LeVourne. I felt his eyes on me. Then I saw blood at the pebbles where the body was. I directed my finger there and LeVourne looked at it.

 -Oh dear, did you believe that I thought you crazy, he said

 - Of course not, I said but it was not true.

 - While we were coming I saw blood on the pebbles and at the road. Are you sure she was dead when you left her?

 - Yes of course. She had so much blood that her white dress turned into a red dress.

 - So, there are two possibilities. The signs of blood I saw before were there because someone was trying to move this woman to the sea and sink it to the water. But why he left it there to move it after fifteen minutes? So the second possibility is the predominant. Someone killed her at the beach, went somewhere to find help to move her and vanish her. Now, let’s go to miss Mabely’s home to ask you some questions.

Intro:

The characters are little light blue grey cells that look like moving optic tentacle fingers with neon green eyes and elegant moustaches. Clues are like food pellets for the little grey cells.

     Perhaps, there must have been a design that all these little light blue grey cells were illuminating beings. The little grey cells were all glowing and all on the brink at the edge of space.

They were all blinking and all thinking about all of it.

While sinking into an oblivion of a million stars,  their thoughts came cross the mind of each one and other to have the same feeling all the time despite the space... Well, space is only really part of that grey matter. Space is like a mind.

Story:

            Phil was amazed how quickly his hard-earned work at the office went out so rapidly. Bags of clues filled the starry streets.  Coffee was ever so costly but a hamburger was affordable. Phil ate what he could have; mostly protein. Phil went inside McDonald's to grab a hamburger. Ahead of him in line was some strange looking little light blue grey cell with enormous moustaches who ordered a double hamburger. For Phil, one single hamburger was a mouthful even if it had a leftover piece of rotten lettuce on it, he’d eat it. Honestly Phil was starving. Phil observed as the hamburger grillers grilled pieces of slam ham at 200 degrees on a metallic slab. Phil was so hungry. Carbohydrates and proteins, thought Phil, he must have something to eat. When Phil finally ordered his meal: one single hamburger, he stood by a white disc table eating. As Phil ate the hamburger, he looked up to view a little grey cell with the enormous moustaches. He wondered about those moustaches.

            As Phil finished the hamburger, the little grey cell with the enormous moustaches approached Phil. 

            "Hello," the little grey cell with enormous moustaches announced, "I am Hercule Poirot."

            "Hello," smiled Phil.

            Poirot presented Phil with a digitalized card that read:

 . M. Poirot Investigations

            Supra Astro-Auf-Naxos 

         700 Agatha Christie St, suite #19

          Lon-Don-Cosmo City A73

            "Thank you," was the only thing Phil could have thought to utter.

            "You are most welcome."

            Poirot wiggled his moustaches and watched as Phil slid out of McDonald’s.  Poirot had  been staring very suspiciously at a list that Poirot had thought, Phil might have left behind....

            -Follow Miss Ratchett’s steps

            -Steal Miss Ratchett’s ring

            -Grab Miss Ratchett’s nail polish

            -Snatch Miss Ratchett’s bracelet  

            -Pick Miss Ratchett’s credit card

            -Collect Miss Ratchett’s key

            -Acquire Miss Ratchett’s glasses

            -Possess Miss Ratchett’s nails

            -Pinch Miss Ratchett’s gems

            -Fetch Miss Ratchett’s C.D.

            -Assume Miss Ratchett’s identity

            -Poison Miss Ratchett’s drink

             "Very strange, indeed," Poirot had thought. 

rushing to get dressed he tripped over numerous objects. when david left that morning he was smartly dressed in a 4 piece suit. he drove to taintact as fast as legally possible. he rushed calmly though the door. when he entered room 56 he was met with a  strange sight. a young girl of about 26 was there she was posed over the couch with a cushion in her hand. she hesitated and stammered. eventually she gave a out a small hello. david immediately recognized the voice. "you were the girl on the phone yesterday". the girl looked down at the ground. david knew he was right. "whats your name?" he asked polity regretting his reaction yesterday "its mariah. mariah sweet." the girl sad shyly. she smiled it had been a while since anyone had talked to her. not even mrs oarkson respected her. swiftly mrs siren came in to the room. she threw mrs sweet a sharp glance and sweet coincidentally remembered she had left the kettle in room 23 on and mrs karston would be cranky. when she had left angel smiled at david and guided him over to the couch. "oh darn that blasted woman has gone off with my cushion. and if you ask me shes gone off with a few other things too. not just my things but everyone's. you know it wouldn't surprise me if she stole from your dear mother after she passed." david was cruelly reminded of his mother's death,he had forgotten all about it,but her words had intrigued him. he inquired what she was referring too. "well" began angel. "for a while now things have been going missing from people. it started small. cushions flower pot s things like that. everyone thought they must have been misplaced. but then it grew. family heirlooms jewels necklaces wedding rings even photo frames were going missing. there was no doubt in our minds anymore it must be a thief and it all started since she came in. well we complained to miss oarkson but she wouldn't listen she thought we had read too many agatha christie books and thought ourselves as miss marple. but i tell you this young man i think she knows it as well. she doesn't want to admit it of course that would make her look bad. but she always has that look in her eye as soon as she looks at that girl. you know just before her death your mother said something to me something about-" the door creaked open "enter" shrieked mrs siren. it was mrs sweet. "you must forgive me but it seems i took your cushion when i left" "dump in on the chair over there and get out. and dont forget i'm watching you" when she had left  mrs siren mouth moved close to david's ear. "we can't talk anymore you never know who's listening." she moved away still looking at david still whispering she said "these walls have ears" she then said in her original voice " tea? one lump of sugar or two? biscuits?" tea was over quick david began to walk back to his car. he remembered the story angel had told him. he chuckled he didn't believe it of course but it was nice to let old ladies have their fun. he decided to walk in favour of the elevator. he needed to burn of that lovely cake angel had made for him. the stairs creaked under his weight.he stumbled. he held himself on with the banister rail which nearly came off he was halfway down the stairs when it happened the creaking got loader and more quick then suddenly he felt something hard hit him on the back of his head.

The ringing sound violently vibrated through the entire room. To David it seemed like the shakings of a earthquake. David jumped up removed the ice pack from his head and hobbled over to the phone. He found it difficult to keep his balance. "Dammed drink" david exclaimed after picking himself up from the ground. His eyes were blurry.He was still tired and the bright sunlight didn't help. he swayed from side to side before finally reaching the phone and lifting it up to his ear only to violently pull it away as the banshee on the other side of the phone shrieked into his ear."Goddamn it woman" david barked "quiet down". the shrieking had now subsided into whimpering. the woman on the other end hesitated to speak again. "Well what is it" david shouted into the phone again after a prolonged silence. the voice came back sniffling and barely clear. "mr fanlock i'm afraid i have some bad news" "well whatever it is it can't be worth waking me up at"... david stopped. what time was it? As he looked at the clock his jaw nearly dropped. it was twelve o clock he was supposed to be at work two hours ago. "mr fanlock are you still there"? "well of course i'm still here now what do you want to tell me" david was already sick of that stupid sniffing voice he had bigger problems like how to get to work and convince his boss not to fire him.on the other side of the line he heard the irritating woman being replaced "mr fanlock this is mrs oarkson" david froze immediately he knew what the problem was. Mrs oarkson was the owner of taintact retirement home there would only be one reason why she would call. even so david refused to believe the next words that came out of her mouth. "i'm afraid your mother mary has passed away" the whole world seemed to stop and yet it seemed to whiz past david at the same time immediately he slammed the phone down and collapsed to the ground while not moving from the spot where he stood. immediately he ran over to his dresser and pulled out any cloths he could get his hands on. five minutes later he was in his car speeding to tainact wearing a jumper sandals and camo jeans. he rushed through the door up to room 84. mrs sweet the one who had rung david attempted to chase after him but was stopped by a authoritative hand on the shoulder by mrs oarkson. she was well experienced in these matters and knew that resistance usually only served to add unnecessary irritation. david burst through the door looked around the room and saw a white sheet with a big lump on the bed,a table with a teapot two teacups and biscuits on it, scattered photos from his youth and a elderly lady standing weeping in the middle of the room. what caught his attention most about her was her beauty something,david noted,that was unusual for a elder woman. he approached her cautiously he knew old people could be quite awkward sometimes. as he got close to her he saw into her face. she had red sore eyes and two parallel black lines of make up streaming down her cheeks. she had ruby red lips and was the absolute cliche of love stories. he began to introduce himself but was shocked as she seemed to know who he was. "i was a close friend of your mothers she told me all about you". she began " we used to have tea and biscuits together every saturday". she paused for a moments and wiped her cheeks with her handkerchief wiping off the two black lines in the process she then turned to david and apologized "i've just realized i haven't told you my name. its angela angela siren. but most people call me angel" "angel siren" david repeated "a beautiful name" david smiled. angel smiled too. it had been a while since she had had male company. he did not appear that good looking but she would take what she could get. "i must remember i am a aging woman" she thought to herself. immediately she thought of something "look this might seem sudden but since i don't have many visitors i was wondering if maybe youd like to come back tomorrow and have tea and biscuit with me in room 56" "well of you'd like we can go now after all were british and the british always have time for a cuppa" he laughed and angel soon joined in but in truth she did not find his joke all that funny. david thought she looked like a harpy when she laughed. he frowned what a odd comparison to make. why did he think that. he had heard that they were women of extreme beauty so that must have been why. "no" angel said apologetically "i'm afraid my room is not yet prepared for visitors". david's heart sank but he was reassured that tomorrow they would be reunited. disappointed david drove home. when he got there he was met with a surprise. at the door was none other then his colleague jack. "david where the hell have you been the boss nearly exploded when you didn't come in this morning" david attempted his best sad face accompanied by his best sad voice "sorry jack but you see my mother she passed away last night.". there was silence for a couple of moments. jack looked straight into david's eyes. shortly after he gave a short hearty laugh "yes i thought i recognised that face. tell me something david was there a girl at the funeral? no don't try to deny it i was a young man once too you know" david knew when he was beaten. he began to recount to jack everything about angel. when he had finished jack merely nodded and hung in head in thoughtful silence. after about a minute or two he looked at david at said "allright fanlock ill tell you what i can do. i can try to get that old brute barlow to give you bereavement leave so that way  you can spend as much time as necessary with that angel of yours". david went to bed that night with a smile wrapped around his face. one that refused to leave even when he awoke the next morning.