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Miniatures & Mystery Fiction WINNERS!

Here are the short story winners of my first " Miniatures & Mystery Fiction" contest. ~Enjoy! Chris Verstraete

Winners:

1st: "Baby, Button and Barnswallow" - Margaret B. Davidson
2nd: "One Small Step for Man - One Giant Leap for Mankind" - Marie Angell
3rd Runner-up: "For Crying Out Loud!" - Christopher Gooch
4th Runner-up: "The Victorian Pad" - Steve Allan

#1 - "Baby, Button and Barnswallow"

By Margaret B. Davidson

Hands behind his back, Inspector Barnswallow took a turn around the parlor. He halted a moment to consider the baby asleep in the cradle, and then faced the other occupants of the room.

"You say, madam, that this child was left here this morning, and you've no knowledge as to who is the responsible party?"

"That is so, Inspector. I have no idea what to make of it." Mrs. Montcliffe wrung her hands. "Who would do such a thing? Oh, this is all so distressing."

"And you, Mr. Montcliffe, you can shed no light on the matter?"

"Good Lord, man, how many times must I repeat myself? I know nothing of the provenance of this-this creature, and I would appreciate your arranging for its removal before my wife is further upset." Montcliffe tugged at his waistcoat, which was wont to ride up over his paunch. The waistcoat was already missing one button and a second looked about to fly off.

While Montcliffe adjusted his clothing, the Inspector turned and studied the portrait above the mantel. "Your father, sir?" Receiving no response, he swung back to face Montcliffe. "It is my contention, sir, that you know more about this than you're letting on."

"What the blazes--what are you talking about?" Montcliffe's face had turned purple above his whiskers.

"Well I never," whispered Mrs. Montcliffe. "I feel quite faint."

"You see, sir, in my investigations I interviewed certain parties below stairs, among them a Mrs. McFinity -- the cook I believe. Mrs. McFinity asserts that a..." he pulled a notepad from his breast pocket and flipped it open, "...a Miss Issy White left employment in this house several weeks ago, and it was Mrs. McFinity's suspicion that she was in the family way, if you take my meaning."

"I do declare, cook should have advised me of this happenstance. I'm still paying the girl." Mrs. Montcliffe appeared to have recovered from her weak spell.

Barnswallow raised an eyebrow. "Just so. It seems that this Issy entered the house sometime late last night and left a letter, this letter being discovered by Mrs. McFinity this morning. I have a copy right here. Perhaps you'd like to read it, sir." He pulled a slip of paper from between the pages of his notebook. "Here you go, sir."

Sniffing, Montcliffe took the missive, holding it between thumb and forefinger as though it were slightly smelly. He applied his monocle, and proceeded to read.

"Why," he spluttered, "this is outrageous! I-I barely spoke to the girl. What utter nonsense." The letter fluttered to the floor.

"Albert, are you quite alright? You've lost your color."

Barnswallow retrieved the letter and placed it back in his notebook. "So you claim, sir, that you are not the father of the child here in this room?"

"Certainly not!"

"My smelling salts! Somebody fetch me my smelling salts!"

"As you saw in the letter, Issy White claims to have been threatened and is in fear for her life. Would you know anything about that, sir?"

"How dare you!"

The letter further states that she planned to leave her baby here in the hope that you, Mrs. Montcliffe, will care for it. She claims you are indeed the father, Mr. Montcliffe, and that there's proof; that proof being a small mole above the child's upper lip -- a mole identical to the one on the face pictured above your mantel. That is a family portrait, isn't it, sir?"

Mrs. Montcliffe fell to the sofa, sobbing into her lace kerchief. "Oh, Albert, how could you deceive me so?"

There was a light rap on the parlor door, and Barnswallow opened it to find a man in constable's uniform.

"Might I 'ave a word, sir?"

Leaving the door ajar, Barnswallow disappeared into the passage where he and the constable had a whispered conversation. After a minute or two, both men returned to the parlor.

"Please convey the child to the kitchen, Constable. Mrs. McFinity has indicated a willingness to care for it until more permanent arrangements can be made." Barnswallow turned to the Montcliffes, his expression grave.

"It seems that Issy White has been found. Shot through the heart."

"No, no, no," wailed Mrs. Montcliffe.

"Mr. Montcliffe, I request you accompany me to the station for further questioning."

Once alone, Mrs. Montcliffe rose from the sofa, allowing herself a grim smile. Albert would never extricate himself from the pickle he was in; she'd made certain of that when she'd planted the button next to the body.

"Serves him right, betraying me with that trollop!" she muttered.

But she didn't allow herself to gloat long. First there was the vacancy to fill below stairs, and then there was her wardrobe to consider. She'd need something suitably drab for the trial. #

#2 - "One Small Step for Man - One Giant Leap for Mankind"

By Marie Angell

"I made it! Readings show no inhabitants in the area. Hold on-what's this? There's a baby in the room. But I'm not getting any reading on that. Whew! All clear. It appears to be some kind of simulacrum, doesn't seem to be programmed for movement. A doll? Is that the word?

"I'm starting visual inspection. Our calculations may have been off. This doesn't appear to be an early 21st century North American room. Not my expertise, but maybe late 19th century? Victorian Era? None of the standard electronic devices. Flowery. God, what is that smell? The sensor says it's coming from over he-"

* * *

"Darling, we're going to be late."

"Oh, just one more second. I want to make sure that new glue I used for the wallpaper patch is holding up."

"God help me, I married a woman who loves miniatures!"

"That's why I love you, dear."

"Very funny. Please hurry."

"It looks great. This glue is stinky, but it holds like crazy."

"Fascinating. Let's go."

"Darn those kids! I've told them a thousand times to leave my stuff alone!"

"What is it now?"

"Oh, there's an action figure on the floor of my Victorian Parlor. This has to be Danny's. I'm going to wring his neck."

"You don't have time to worry about it now. Let's hit the road."

"All right, all right. Aaaaaahhhhh!"

"Margaret! What is it?"

"It moved! I swear it moved!"

"Don't be silly. It's just a toy."

"No, look, its arm is moving. What is this?"

"How should I know?"

"He's looking at me! His mouth is moving! What is this?"

"It looks like he's talking."

"Don't touch him!"

"He's tiny. How dangerous can he be? I have to look at it to figure out what it is. Calm down. Yeah, he's definitely screaming. Just like you did. That's funny. Like in ET."

"Shut up! It's not funny. What are going to do?"

"Heck if I know."

"Well, do something! Call the FBI!"

"And tell them what-that we've got a tiny man that we found in your dollhouse? Yeah, that's going to go over real well."

"Maybe he's hurt. We should take him to the vet."

"It's not a dog."

"Well, the emergency room then. I'm scared."

"Hold on-what happened?"

"I don't know. He just disappeared."

"My God, this is insane. You saw him, right? That was not my imagination."

"Let's get a grip. You need to sit down and I definitely need a drink."

* * *

"Darling, what a horrible experience! You're sure you're all right? You won't have any lasting effect from inhaling those horrible fumes?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I'm more worried about changes in the STC."

"You and your alphabet talk."

"Sorry, dear, I forget. STC is the Space-Time Continuum, where going into the past could change the future."

"Oh. But you'd know if that happened, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe. That's the catch, I guess. If everything changed completely we might never know. Of course, we haven't detected any problems before, but then, I guess we might not know about that either. Kind of a dilemma, isn't it?"

"You feel the same, don't you?"

"Sure, same old me. Sixty feet two, eyes of blue."

"Sixty feet two? When did you grow an extra inch?"

"Okay, okay, you got me. I was just going for the rhyme."

"Of course you were. But I think I'd better check you out for myself, you big hunk of man! Come over here!" #

#3 - "For Crying Out Loud!"

By Christopher Gooch

"Honey, honey, could you come here?"

"Just a minute Ed, let me put Roger down." She gently rocked the baby as she put it in the crib. He continued to sleep soundly after she went into the other room. "Yes, Ed?"

"I'm sorry I have to do this, Kate, but it's for my own good."

"What are you talking about? What do you have to do?"

He told her. She screamed. The baby woke up and started wailing.

"Wait a minute, Ed, let me say goodbye to him."

Ed suddenly became as fierce as a half-starved cannibal. "Shut up and sit down!"

"Please," she pleaded and started to get up. "Let me go see him one more time!"

He lunged toward her and thrust the gleaming butcher knife in her face. "I said sit down and shut up!"

She got up. "The same thing's going to happen to me either way, Ed."

"Yeah, but if you don't sit down and shut up, it'll happen to him, too." He pointed toward the other room, where the baby remained crying.

She sat down as immediately as if she'd been magnetically attracted to the chair. "That's better. Now, this won't hurt much. You won't be in pain too long."

As the baby heard his mother's anguished screams, it wailed even louder. In several seconds, Ed came into the room. "It's okay, honey," he said softly, picking the baby up, "Come to Daddy."

Roger screamed, cried, and arched his back more viciously, as if he knew what had happened to his mother.

"If you'd stop arching your this-and-that back for a minute, I could rock you in the chair!" Ed shouted.

The baby arched backward and kicked Ed in the stomach. He grunted and swore. "Cut that out!"

Roger kept arching and kicking. Ed grunted again, then laid the baby down in the crib. "If that's what you want, you can stay there until you rot, for all I care!"

He continued crying.

The doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Ed shouted, as if there was someone else to get the door, and he ran to get it. As he did, he almost stepped on the bloodied mess in the living room. He swore and looked about the room, as if looking for a place to hide something.

The doorbell rang again. He shook his head and went to the door. Carefully he opened it just enough to see who it was.

"We've heard reports of child abuse from the neighbors."

Ed turned white. "No, officers, no, everything's fine over here. Baby's been crying a lot, that's all."

"Can we come in?"

Ed trembled.

"I said, can we come in?"

"Do you have a search warrant?"

"No, but we can get one."

"Would it help if I showed you that my baby's okay?"

The two officers looked at each other. "Sure, but we'd still like to come in."

Ed shut and locked the door then ran after Roger. Thankfully he was asleep, and kept right on sleeping in Ed's arms.

"As you can see, officers, he's fine," said Ed after opening the door a crack. "Just cried himself to sleep."

"Well, I guess that's good enough, then." The second officer nodded.

Roger awoke suddenly and started screaming as the officers turned away. The officers stopped and looked back to see the baby arching its back and kicking Ed in the gut.

"I take that back," the officer said, "we're going in."

Ed started to protest, but the baby kicked him in the gut. He swore.

The officers pushed the door open and burst through. Then they found the bloodied mess in the living room floor. #

#4 - "The Victorian Pad"

By Steve Allan

"It started out as any other case, Symthe. Seemed open and shut." I paused to stuff a little more tobacco into my rosewood pipe. "Mrs. Vanderbuilt sent her driver to find me. Sturdy chap, awful driver. Lost a foot in the war, can't reach the clutch properly. He reminded me of the dastardly con-man known as the Cobbler. I remember catching him in Turkey, late in..."

"The case Sir? Vanderbuilt?" Symthe prompted me as he dusted my tuba.

"Ah, of course. Try not to distract me, Symthe, there's a good man. I arrived at her house about ten in the morning. Mrs. Vanderbuilt was an absolute mess, poor thing, moaning about the vandalism. It appeared her prized miniature house, 'The Bohemian Pad, had been destroyed. Its remains were scattered around the upstairs parlor where it had resided. The actual value of the item is quite staggering. Upwards of three thousand pounds. The 'Pad' is an exact replica of the miniature house owned by the Earl of Frostedbun."

"Frostedbun, Sir?" Symthe finished polishing my silver Jew's harp.

"Yes, Symthe, close to Sandwich but more sugary." He just sighed at my humor and began shelving my original copies of the works of Emperor Tiberius.

"The earl has never acknowledged the copy as he believes it detracts from the value of his own possession. Anyway, it had happened overnight and there were no signs of forced entry. I insisted on being able to survey the property myself to ascertain all the relevant facts. She, of course, acquiesced. It was during my study of the study that Thompson the butler entered the room. Of course, I figured that solved the case and pounced on the offender instantly. It's a staple of cheap fiction that the butler did it so I moved to apprehend him. My pitiful screaming brought Vanderbuilt and her driver quickly to pull him off me.

"Vanderbuilt was adamant Thompson couldn't have been the culprit. Been in the family for years apparently. She wouldn't hear of me pursuing that line of thought. Undeterred, I continued my investigation.

"My first real clue was a shard of balsa wood lying in the hallway between the parlor and the guest bedroom. It was the only sign of the smashed house that existed outside the parlor. I figured it had landed on the worthless criminal and fallen off only after he had left the room. On entering the bedroom I found a crib containing a live baby. Vanderbuilt explained the baby belonged to her sister-in-law who was currently out. Again, the baby seemed to be above suspicion in her eyes."

I paused to allow Symthe to drag my Steinway grand piano across to the bay window. Unfortunately, its bulk cut down on the light entering the room so I told him to move it back.

"My second clue was another piece of balsa stuck in the leg of the baby's garment. The third was a tiny cut evident on the baby's index finger of his left hand, made recently. I had my suspect, all I needed was a motive. I began to suspect that the baby was actually in cahoots with the Earl, if not the Earl himself. In disguise of course."

"Of course, sir" Symthe muttered, making a tentative start dusting around my world famous, nine-deck house of cards which I kept for posterity.

"The Earl would benefit from the destruction of any replica of his own 'Pad.' I accused the baby of my suspicions, looking for a reaction. It gurgled slightly and blew a bubble. Vanderbuilt couldn't take the stress of her loss anymore it seemed. She broke down and insisted I leave immediately. I warned her that an interruption to the case could cause valuable evidence to be lost or allow the culprit to escape. I couldn't change her mind, poor soul, so lost in despair was she. She turned me out without barely a 'thank you' for my time. Nor would she let her driver return me to town. As I traipsed down the driveway I turned around to see the baby looking out of a first floor window. The little bugger had won this round. But don't be alarmed, Symthe, our paths will cross again. You can be sure of it."

"Indubitably, sir. Indubitably." #