Murder At Midnight

return to me. That waswhen I concluded that reaching out to him was pointless.
That evening, I met Mrs.Marshall in the garden at the back of the Lodge. She was sitting on one of the woodenchairs, underneath some trees that were just below my window. She was knitting a bluecap.
“I hope you don’t mind if I joinyou?” I asked.
“No, not at all,” she said.“Feel free.”
“You have avery sharp tongue, Mrs. Marshall,” I said with a laugh.
“Have I stung you with mytongue, Mr. Simpson? I like to think that I always tell thetruth.”
“The truth can be very bitter,”I replied.
“But people often need thebitter pill of truth to free themselves from the delusions andshackles of self-deceit that they have woven around themselves.”She did not pause her knitting. Yes, she told the truth, but myconcern was that she delivered it like a sledgehammer.
“But you have to be careful. Youmay not realise how deeply you hurt people.” Icautioned.
“I can takecare of myself, Mr. Simpson. But I know at least one person in thisLodge, who would not think twice about leaving a knife in yourback, if they ever got the opportunity.” I laughed, knowing it wastrue. There was something else I was curious about. “How do you get yourinformation about people, Mrs. Marshall?” Iasked.
“I keep my eyes open and my earsto the ground,” she replied. I looked into her round eyes, whichwere certainly always open. Her protruding ears were alsodefinitely alert and seemed to quiver at the slightestsound.
Her dire warning about someonewanting to kill me, proved prophetic. It almost came to pass, later that night.
It was about11:00pm when I got up from bed. I had been turning and tossingfor hours, unable to sleep. I decided to go down to the lounge, tosee if there was anything good on television. I poured myself aglass of milk from the fridge, which I decided to take along. Onopening my door, I was surprised to find the entire hallwayindarkness.The light bulb must have burnt out.
I heard what sounded like thecrash of thunder, followed by the sound of something falling topieces,in Nagoth’sroom. Almost immediately, he began to swear and cuss. Hisexpletives would have made a nun blush, but I was no nun. Icontinued unabashedly, groping my way along the corridor towardsthe staircase. As I passed by Willie’s room, I heard himpraying energetically. I felt a surge of envy, when I heard snorescoming from John’s room.
I'm notsure why, but as I got to the top of the long staircase, Ihesitated. It was like standing at the edge of a gaping,pitch-black abyss. Ayuba had to do something about thelights.
Then, I heard quick footstepsbehind me. I was surprised because I had not heard any doorsopening. I tried to turn around, but I felt two hands just beforewind wasknocked outof me and I fell headlong down the stairs. Milk splashed on me, asthe glass clattered to pieces on the stairs.
I landed with a thudatthe bottom of thestairs. My left hand was twisted painfully behind my back. I hearddoors open in quick succession, and a torchlight appeared pointing down at me.
“Father Lord! Who is there?”called out Willie. “Did you fall?”
“It’s me,” I groaned in pain.“Someone just pushed me down the stairs.”
“Father, Lord!” exclaimed Willie. “Who would do such athing?”
Others had joined himandthey climbed downthe stairs to where I was.
“Are you OK?” askedTonye.
“I think I may have sprained myhand. Otherwise I think I am fine,” I said.
“Can you stand?” asked Willie,as he pulled me up with his hands under my arms. Between him andJohn, they carried me to the lounge and I was laid on asettee.
“You say someone pushed yourass?” asked Philip.
“Yes,” I replied.
They were all there. Nagoth,John, Tonye, Philip and Willie; one of them obviously had pushedme. I stared at each of them in turn, but they all looked shocked.Naturally, I suspected Nagoth. He was antagonistic enough towardsme, to want to do me harm. But he did not shift his gazewhenour eyesmet. However, if the push had been meant as a joke, it could have beenTonye or Philip.
“But where were you going?”asked Tonye, with his face set in that foolish expression ofhis.
“I was coming down here with aglass of milk, to see if I could watch anything on television,since I could not sleep,” I explained.
“Oh, so you had the glass ofmilk in your hand?” asked Tonye.
“No, I had iton my head,” I replied, sarcastically. He looked offendedbutI did not reallycare.
“But who would have done such athing?” asked Willie looking at the other men. I knew it was notJohn, who had been fast asleep and snoring.
“But why were you not able tosleep?” continued Tonye. I looked at him for some seconds,wondering to myself what kind of human being he was.
“In your life, has there neverbeen an occasion, when you could not sleep at night, Tonye?’ Iasked.
“No,” he replied.
“Good for you,” Isaid.
“So, you actually didn’t knowthat someone was coming behind you?” continued Tonye.
“No, I did not. It was all sosudden and as I do not have eyes in the back of my head, I cannotsee in the dark. Unlike some people here,” I replied.
“Are you surethe broken glass did not cut you?” asked John, speaking for thefirst time. I looked up at him surprised that he had the gift ofspeech. The milk spots made my shirt stick to my skin.
“No, it did not. And if you guysdon’t mind, I would like to go to my room now, change these clothesand get some sleep.” I stood up unsteadily.
“Oh, so youcan sleep now?” asked Tonye grinning at the others foolishly. Hewas insufferable. I went back up the stairs with the aid ofWillie’s torch, while the rest followed me. They stayed behind metill I got to the door of my room. I thanked them and closed mydoor quickly after me, as Tonye seemed inclined to follow me in. Itook off my clothes and threw them in a corner of the wardrobe.Then,I took a quickshower.
My lefthand was still painful at the elbow joint. I applied some ointmenton it. Then, I poured myself