Interrobang

“You’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here tonight,” Father Bigham addresses the motley lot, “The fact is, I know who stole the MacGuffin diamond and killed John Everyman to conceal the crime.”

A gasp issues from the assembled guests. 

“You mean—?!”

“That’s right, Colonel Hornblatt,” Bigham smiles. “The killer is right here in this room.”

Another gasp is cut short by hands clapping. Pierre Laffite, the struggling actor.

“So, the brilliant priest has not only stumbled upon another seemingly unsolvable mystery,” Laffite sneers over the rim of the champagne he’s taken up, “But solved it no less, armed with only his lovable tenacity and unwavering belief in good triumphing over evil.”

“Nevertheless.”

“Perhaps, the clergy is not your true calling?”

“Let’s just say, I serve our Creator best I can.”

“Don’t we all?” chirps Lady Evergreen.

“Aye, more than you know, milady,” Bigham winks.

“Let me guess,” Laffite goes on, “Although we’ve established that we were all at the theatre that night, you’re about to spin some far-fetched scenario wherein someone used mirrors or whatever in plain-sight to nip over to Everyman’s and—”

“You betray yourself, Monsieur,” Bigham clutches his lapels in triumph. “While we watched your rather hackneyed turn as the Ghost of Hamlet's Father—”

“Merde!” Laffite pulls a derringer from his jacket and waves it around.

“Laffite, no!” Lady Evergreen seems hurt.

“No, not Laffite. But his twin brother!” beams Bigham. 

“Wait. What’s the point of there being two of us?”

“Indeed!” harrumphs the Colonel “If no one saw the culprit, why make it a twin? Silly plot point really.”

“Any accomplice would’ve sufficed,” adds Evergreen.

“Nevertheless,” Laffite levels the gun at Bigham’s chest, “Let’s see how your Creator gets you out of this one.”

“I’ve got two words for you, Laffite.”

“Quoi...?!”

THE END

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