As the pristine cream carpet became stained deep red, the woman in the brown mask, Mrs. Ostrich, fainted, falling into the arms of the man in the blue mask, Monsieur Jay. Dr. Penguin, in the black and white mask, narrowed his eyes and ushered the others into the kitchen, where the crimson trail led. On the tile floor lay Avery Alouette, their expired host.
“Dear God,” the woman in green, Ms. Parrot, murmured. “They’re dead, but … why? And who could possibly have done this?”
“Good question,” said the man in red, Mr. Cardinal.
Dr. Penguin got down on his knees, searching for any sort of murder weapon, but there was none to be found. He glanced up at Mr. Cardinal and Ms. Parrot, shaking his head before standing up again.
“Nothing,” he said, sighing. “There’s no evidence in here whatsoever. Whoever did this was quick, quiet and efficient, and hid their evidence extremely well.”
“This isn’t good,” Mr. Cardinal said through gritted teeth.
“Agreed,” M. Jay said, carrying Mrs. Ostrich as he walked into the kitchen. His French accent became heavier as anxiety crept into his voice. “Any suggestions, ‘mes amis’? There must be something in this house, evidence to point toward the killer.”
“It may be against our best interests … but I suggest we split up,” Dr. Penguin said. “I’ll take her, she seems to know what she’s doing,” he added, gesturing to Ms. Parrot, who gave a curt nod in reply.
“You and I will go together then, bluebird,” Mr. Cardinal said to M. Jay. “We’ll take the other woman with us. We’re not leaving her here to remain vulnerable to any further attacks.”
“Good thinking, ‘bonhomme,’’’ M. Jay said. “And that should be all, yes? ‘À bientôt.’”
And with that, the two groups went off in opposite directions, searching for clues.
Edited by Abby Stetina, astetina@themaneater.com