#i just want to listen to thing but I check thr library and it doesn’t have it

[rachelkaser]

Masonry Monday: The Case of the Sulky Girl

A headstrong young woman wants her trust fund released from her controlling uncle. When the uncle turns up dead, her boyfriend is the prime suspect.

Who’s Who

Perry Mason’s client: Rodney Gleason, the beau of a young heiress being controlled by her misanthropic uncle

The victim: Edward Norton, the heiress’s uncle, who believes she’s not ‘emotionally stable’ enough to handle her own affairs

Suspects: Fran Celane, the aforementioned headstrong heiress, who wants to get married against her uncle’s wishes Clara Mayfield, the housekeeper, who helped raise Fran and who is distraught to see her battling with her uncle Donald Graves, Norton’s personal secretary, who bears the brunt of his bad temper after fights with his niece Arthur Crinston, Norton’s lawyer, who is forced to bow to his demanding behavior but who sympathizes with Fran Judge Brian C. Purley, a friend of Crinston’s who is caught up in the case despite just wanting to listen to the fights

The Setup

In a large estate house, the groundskeeper hears a loud argument through an open window. It’s Fran Celane, a young heiress, arguing with her uncle Edward Norton. Their fight is vicious as they insult each other, with Fran finally running out of his office in a fury. The maid, Clara, chases after her to calm her down. A lawyer named Crinston arrives and meets with Norton’s secretary, Graves, who says Norton will be very perturbed after the fight.

In Fran’s room, she’s packing her purse in a hurry. Clara tries to tell her to just bear her uncle’s tyranny a while longer, but Fran won’t be condescended to either. She storms out of the house -- even Crinston tries to calm her, but she isn’t having it. She almost drives over the groundskeeper on the way out. Graves informs Crinston that Norton can’t see him now and to come back later that night. Crinston has an appointment with a Judge at 10, so he’ll be there at 11.

Fran arrives at Perry’s office and barges right past Gertie, the receptionist. She surprises Perry and Della, who are in the middle of researching for a case, and says she needs help immediately. Perry sits her down and tells her to describe the situation. She says her late father created a spendthrift trust for her, naming her uncle as absolute trustee. He has control over her money for the rest of her life, and she wants to break it as she feels he’s being unreasonable.

There’s another wrinkle: Fran wants to get married, but her uncle won’t allow it until she’s 25. She’s 23 now, and Perry asks why she can’t wait. Fran doesn’t answer, and Perry and Della exchange a significant look. Perry says he’ll take a day to check on things and get back to her. On her way out, she apologizes to them both for her attitude and says she’s just upset. After she goes, Perry notes to Della that Fran’s sulkiness is a mask for her fear.

DELLA: *coming from the law library carrying several heavy books* This is all I could find, chief. PERRY: Well if it isn’t in those, Della, we’d better drop it. *Della drops the books loudly onto the desk*

Back at the estate, Norton chastises Clara for undermining him to Fran, just as she did to Fran’s father when he hired her 10 years ago. Clara protests that someone had to take care of Fran when she was a little girl, but Norton says that anymore encouragement to Fran, and Clara is gone. Clara says that she loves Fran and she doesn’t want to leave. Perry meets up with Paul, who gives the information he found on Fran: Besides the fact her mother died when she was 12, she hasn’t got the cleanest record.

Five years previous, when Fran was 18, she disappeared for a week and turned up in Florida, in the company of an anonymous bellhop. Paul says she’s recently been seen hanging out with an artist named Rodney Gleason. The next visit is to Rod’s studio. Mason probes him for information on Fran, who Rodney says he’s only known for a short time. Mason spots a painting of Florida and asks Rod when he was there. Rod says five years ago, while working his way through art school -- as a bellhop.

That’s when Mason says he has a hunch about something: He thinks Rod and Fran got married during that week when she was 18, and her father created the trust to try and separate them. Rod tries to usher Mason out, but Fran emerges from the backroom. She apologizes for holding out on Mason, and confirms that she and Rod have been married for five years. Mason also had a second hunch about why she’s so desperate to break the trust now and not wait until she’s 25. Smiling, he says he hopes it’s a boy.

Later, Mason meets with Norton at the estate. Mason tries to make Norton see he’s being unreasonable, and 25 is no more wise or ready for marriage than 23, especially if Fran continues in the circumstances she’s living in. Norton, however, will not budge and tells Mason to leave. On the way out, Perry tells Fran what happened, making her scream in frustration and hatred. Later, Paul reports to Perry that Norton may be an asshole, but he’s squeaky clean.

The Murder

Sometime in the night, Rod arrives at the estate and leaves his car outside the gate. He sneaks onto the property, narrowly missing Judge Purley’s car when he arrives with Crinston. The latter leaves Purley listening to the fights on the car radio while he goes to see to Norton. Graves is upset and notes that Crinston’s slight tardiness has made Norton irritated. Rod disappears into the house.

Around that time, the local police precinct gets a call. A deputy picks it up, and Norton demands help. The deputy warily tells the sergeant who’s calling and hands the phone over. The sergeant hears that Fran has threatened Norton, and the voice demands protection. Back at the house, Crinston emerges from the house and rejoins Judge Purley in the car just as the fight is wrapping up. Suddenly a voice calls out from the house to Crinston, and Crinston asks the Judge to turn the radio down.

The voice demands that Crinston take Graves to pick up some papers, despite the late hour. Crinston wearily asks the Judge if he’ll drive them, and the Judge agrees. Graves exits the house and piles into the car with the other two men, who bemoan the demands of Norton. Halfway down the driveway, Graves offers to put Crinston’s briefcase in the backseat. As he turns, he suddenly shouts that he saw a man in Norton’s office sneak up behind him and hit him on the head.

In Perry’s office, it’s midnight, and he shakes awake a snoozing Della. She tells him that he’s going above and beyond for a case that’s out of his usual purview, which is murder. Fran dramatically arrives and says that it’s a murder case now. Back at the estate, Tragg is supervising the crime scene investigation. Graves recounts how he saw someone come up behind Norton, and Judge Purley corroborates the exact timing. Mason wonders aloud to Fran if Graves will be able to identify the person he saw.

In private, Fran protests that Rod did not kill her uncle, but she’s afraid Mason won’t defend him if she tells him the full details. He urges her to tell him. Rod was at the estate to help her move her things to his apartment. But he insisted on having it out with her uncle before he left. Perry tells her to rest, then goes to question Rod. He says that he heard voices in the office, so waited in the garden for a few minutes. When he entered the study, Norton was already dead, and he ran. Mason says Burger’s going to have a field day with this case.

Sometime later, Burger is at the estate with Graves. They’re running an exact conditions test to see how well he could have witnessed events from so far away. Burger has him identify three police officers who are in the study, in the exact same position as the man he allegedly saw. Graves is able to successfully identify the correct officer three times from 147 feet away at night. Burger is confident he’s a solid eyewitness, and tells Tragg to keep the test quiet. Paul, meanwhile, watches from his car, hidden in the bushes.

Paul reports the results of the test to Perry, who says that now he can’t impugn Graves’ testimony now. Sometime later, Paul arrives at Tragg’s office. Tragg invites him to flick rubberbands at a tiny Perry Mason figure, which Paul does with enthusiasm. While they’re playing, Tragg says he saw Paul’s car at the estate, and he insinuates Paul could lose his license. But Burger’s thought of a better use for him: Paul will testify to the veracity of Graves’ exact conditions test, as no one could ever accuse him of being in the DA’s pocket.

The Trial

Rod is bound over for trial, his preliminary hearing having apparently not gone well. Paul says the case looks bad, and he hasn’t been able to produce anything helpful. Perry does urge him to look into Norton’s financial. At the trial proper, Burger gives his opening statement to the jury while Mason waives their opening statement. Burger calls Judge Purley to the stand, who gives very precise testimony Perry does pull one important fact from him: The Judge never spoke to or saw Norton while the latter was alive.

Burger then calls Sergeant Wilbur of the Laurelwood police to the stand, who testifies to what he heard on the phone call they received from the Norton estate. Mason quickly points out a flaw in his testimony: He didn’t actually pick up the phone or hear Norton’s first words, but the other officer did. Mason moves that Wilbur’s testimony be stricken as Burger has not laid a proper foundation for it. Burger summons the detective and calls Crinston to the stand.

Crinston testifies to his movements on the night. Mason asks why he was at the house, and Crinston says it was to advise Norton on his financial matters. Mason suspends his testimony and asks Della for Paul’s report on Norton’s finances. Burger calls Graves to the stand for his eyewitness testimony, and Mason doesn’t cross-examine at the moment, saying he might wish to recall him later.

Officer Frank Delaney is called to the stand to lay the proper foundation for Sergeant Wilbur’s testimony. The officer testifies what he heard Norton say when he first answered the phone, including the phrase, “This is Edward Norton.” On cross-examination, Mason points out that the only reason Wilbur thought he was speaking to Norton was because Delaney told him that’s who it was, not because he recognized the voice. He nevertheless allows Wilbur’s testimony to stay on the record.

Next on the stand is Clara, who testifies that she saw Crinston and Graves leave the study and Rod go in. Mason asks her why she didn’t stay to keep an eye on the situation, as Clara knew that Rod might argue with Norton. She says it was in divine hands at that point, and Perry quickly gets frustrated as she keeps bringing up her religion on the stand. He also asks her about an important number while looking out into the audience: 67,585.

At this point, Mason decides to raise a new point in court: The prosecution is preoccupied with what everyone saw the night of the murder, but the more important thing is what they heard...

In Summation

First, a bit of housekeeping: I was originally going to use a five-point scale to rate this series, but after some reflection I think a four-point scale should work better. I have a very particular reason for using a five-point scale in my Stay Golden Sunday posts, which I’ll talk about in a few weeks. But that’s not the case with Masonry Monday, so from now on things will be done on a four-scale system.

Whoo boy, this episode is a tough one. I don’t necessarily dislike anything in this episode, but I don’t think it hangs together well, either from a legal standpoint or a storytelling one. Even the title is a little off: Fran is the “sulky girl” of the title, but “sulky” means “moodily silent.” Fran is anything but silent -- the very first thing we see her do is yell. This kind of sets the tone of the episode, which has an interesting story hook but fails to deliver on it, at least in my opinion.

Let’s start with the victim and his niece. We’re never given an explanation for just why Norton is such an asshole to Fran, or why he repeatedly insists that a 23-year-old woman needs “discipline,” except . . . well, that he’s an asshole. He’s not our most complex victim, for sure. But part of me wonders if he’s right. Fran’s got secretly married at 18 after running away from home (winding up in a Walter Winchell column, no less) and now her plan for getting her money from her uncle is to scream at him until he gives in?

Both Perry and Clara urge her to be reasonable, which in this case means waiting to turn 25 and her uncle will be more amenable to turning the estate over to her. Given that she’s pregnant, that won’t work, but my alternative is: Why not just tell her uncle everything? He can’t hold marriage in front of her as a carrot if she’s already married, and he can hardly ignore or dismiss a baby. Maybe her uncle has a point about her not being quite grown up enough to handle these things.

Onto the case: I can’t help but find this whole thing a bit absurd. I’m going to skirt very close to spoiler territory here, but this murder involves no small amount of subterfuge and bamboozling innocent witnesses. It’s never made clear if it was all planned or if the murderer made things up on the fly, but either way, I’m not buying this one.

For one thing, the prosecution’s case depends entirely on an eyewitness account that could never hold up in a real court. A man claims to be able to accurately identify someone from over 60 yards away, through a shaded window, while the person is facing away from him? Yeah, I don’t buy it, and I don’t see why Burger does either. The scene with the exact conditions test just feels like a lot of hooey.

Also, I don’t see why Burger would subpoena Paul to be a witness to the test, given that Paul was too far away to be able to accurately recount everything that happened. We do get to see Paul driving his slick Thunderbird, and also he’s got a cool Dick Tracy caricature on his desk, autographed by Tracy’s creator, Chester Gould (your eyes have to be sharp, but it’s there). It’s fun to see him have a moment of camaraderie with Tragg, of all people, but I wish Tragg weren’t threatening him: Paul didn’t break any laws or do anything that would get his license taken away.

On a better note, we get the first appearance of Connie Cezon as Gertie, Perry Mason’s receptionist. She made several brief appearances in the series, and her character is basically what you see in this episode: She’s a foil to Della, a bit nervy and fluttery while Della is calm and collected. While pleasant, she’s clearly not equipped to deal with Mason’s more headstrong clients, ineffectually chasing Fran when she barges in. It’s okay, though: It takes all sorts, and there can only be one Della Street.

The Verdict

Judgement: ⚖️ (one scale out of four) Perry handles himself well, casting doubt on the witness testimony. It’s the prosecution who fumbles this week, as it never should have been put forth in court in the first place.

#masonry monday #perry mason #paramount plus #della street #the case of the sulky girl #paul drake #s01e05

[chocolatequeennk]

Forever and Never Apart, 19/42

Summary: After taking a year to recover from the Master, the Doctor and Rose are ready to travel again. But Time keeps pushing them forward, and instead of going back to their old life, they slowly realise that they’re stepping into a new life. Friends new and old are meeting on the TARDIS, and when the stars start going out, the Doctor and Rose face the biggest change of all: the return of Bad Wolf.

Series 4 with Rose, part 7 of Being to Timelessness; sequel to Taking Time (AO3 | FF.NET | TSP)

Betaed by @lastbluetardis, @rudennotgingr, @jabber-who-key, and @pellaaearien. Thank you so much!

AO3 | FF.NET | TSP

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10| Ch 11 | Ch 12 | Ch 13 | Ch 14 | Ch 15 | Ch 16 | Ch 17 | Ch 18

Chapter Nineteen: The Body in the Library

Over the next month, the Doctor initiated Jenny into life in the TARDIS. They let the ship take them where she wanted, and she gave them exactly what Jenny had wanted: whole new worlds, civilisations saved, and an awful lot of running.

Today, Jenny watched eagerly as the Doctor slowly circled the TARDIS console, setting the parameters of the randomiser. While it could be left open to all of space and time, it was also possible to narrow the possibilities.

No to war and natural disaster, he thought, turning those dials all the way off. A few days ago, they’d landed in the middle of a wildfire and had spent hours relocating the population. He still felt like he could smell smoke, even though he knew it was his imagination.

Mutter’s Spiral, alpha quadrant… He glanced at Rose and Donna, sitting on the jump seat finishing their tea. And within a hundred years of Rose and Donna’s time.

He reached for the dematerialisation lever, and all three ladies grabbed onto the railing. The Doctor threw the lever, then laughed as the TARDIS rocked into motion, taking them through time and space.

“Where are we going?” Jenny yelled over the grinding sound of the engines.

“Not a clue,” the Doctor replied. “Someplace fun, I hope!”

When the ship landed, he was the first one down the ramp and out the door. The TARDIS was parked beside a thick stone wall, and he took a deep breath of the fresh air as he stepped through the opening in the wall into the warm sunshine.

“Oh, smell that air,” the Doctor said to Rose, Donna, and Jenny as they followed him outside. “Grass and lemonade. And a little bit of mint. A hint of mint. Must be the nineteen-twenties.”

Jenny looked up at him, her mouth hanging open. “You can tell what year it is just by smelling?”

The Doctor nodded sagely. “Oh, yeah.”

Rose scolded him telepathically for the fib, but Donna wasn’t nearly so subtle. She rolled her eyes and pointed to the gate just twenty yards away.

“Or maybe that big vintage car coming up the drive gave it away,” she said drolly.

The large touring automobile definitely suggested a time period, and the four of them watched as it rolled past them. “You never know.” The Doctor tugged on his ear. “Maybe I can smell it, too.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Come on, Jenny,” she said, linking her arm through the younger woman’s. “Let’s leave your father and his superior nose back here while we go get a closer look at where we’ve landed.”

Jenny barely spared the Doctor and Rose a glance over her shoulder as she and Donna hurried along the drive to the large Tudor manor.

Rose took the Doctor’s arm and they followed at a more leisurely pace. “Why didn’t you mention time senses to Jenny?” she asked.

The Doctor looked down at her, a furrow between his brows. “I don’t know if she’ll have time senses,” he explained. “She’s like me in a lot of ways, but she didn’t regenerate. She’s never been near the Untempered Schism or looked into the Time Vortex.” He sighed and looked ahead to where Jenny and Donna were hiding behind a corner of the building, watching the goings-on in front of the house. “She’s so excited to be like me. I didn’t want to explain just yet that there’s one more way she might not be.”

Rose stared at him, taking in the worry lines around his eyes as he considered ways to explain something to his daughter that might disappoint her. Emotions welled up in her heart, and she shifted closer to the Doctor and ran her free hand over his arm.

I really love you, she told him as they joined Donna and Jenny.

In answer, the Doctor gently tugged his arm free and wrapped it around her shoulders. He pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple, then smiled at Jenny and Donna. “So, what have we missed?” he asked as a young vicar rode up on his bicycle, joining the butler and another man on the front steps of the manor.

Donna smirked. “The butler is Greeves, and that bloke is Professor Peach. It’s like something out of a murder mystery!”

Greeves nodded at the newly-arrived vicar. “Reverend Golightly. Lady Eddison requests you make yourselves comfortable in your rooms. Cocktails will be served on the lawn from half past four.”

“You go on up,” Professor Peach told the reverend. “I need to check something in the library.”

“Oh?” the vicar asked.

The professor shook his head slightly. “Alone.”

“It’s supposed to be a party,” the vicar chided mildly. “All this work will be the death of you.” The two men smiled at each other as they entered the house.

“Never mind Planet Zog,” Donna said. “A party in the nineteen-twenties—that’s more like it.”

The Doctor nodded. “The trouble is, we haven’t been invited. Oh, I forgot.” He pulled out the psychic paper and waved it in front of Donna and Jenny. “Yes, we have.” He tucked it back in his pocket, then wiggled his eyebrows in a cheeky smile and whirled around to go back to the TARDIS.

“What was that thing Dad just showed us?” Jenny asked.

“It’s called psychic paper,” Rose explained as they walked back to the TARDIS to change into period clothes. She pulled her own out and showed Jenny. “See, it’s just a blank sheet of paper, but we can make it say whatever we want—whatever will make the people looking at it listen to us.”

Jenny nodded. “So Dad will show them that paper, and they’ll think it’s an invitation to the party?”

The Doctor unlocked the TARDIS and held the door open. “Exactly!”

She looked into the ship, then back at the estate before frowning at them. “And… why did we come back here?”

Rose grinned. “A party in the nineteen-twenties means we get to dress up,” she explained. “Come on!”

Donna and Jenny followed her down the corridor, up the stairs, and past the bins. Rose paused in front of the door to the wardrobe room and waited to push it open until they were right behind her.

A broad grin spread across her face at their matching gasps of amazement. “Welcome to the Wardrobe Room,” she said, waving expansively at the three storey room. “You can come back later and poke around, but for now, I think we’ll find what we’re looking for over here.”

The TARDIS had set out a rack of dresses circa the mid nineteen-twenties. “Choose one you like,” Rose said, already examining the options. “Not one of the fancier ones though—we’ll save those to change into for dinner.”

“Oh, this is brilliant!” Donna said. “I’ve always wanted to be a flapper.”

“What’s a flapper?” Jenny asked.

“A bold young woman of the nineteen-twenties.” Rose pulled out a dress with a handkerchief hemline that would fall just past her knees. The colour was an unusual lilac ombre, and she instantly fell in love with it.

The TARDIS had provided three changing rooms, complete with a vanity and mirror. Rose slipped into the first and changed into the dress, then quickly did her hair so it fell around her shoulders in loose waves.

By the time Rose had put on the matching lilac flats and tucked her sonic screwdriver and psychic paper in the waiting purse, Donna and Jenny were already dressed and laughing over some joke, waiting for her on the chaise lounge. The copper bead work on Donna’s dress set off her red hair beautifully, and Jenny had chosen a simple dress in robin’s egg blue that made her look like the innocent she was.

They stood up when she joined them. “Come on, Rose!” Jenny danced eagerly towards the door. “We’ve been in here for twenty-five minutes, and Dad’s getting impatient.”

Rose nodded—she could almost taste the Doctor’s impatience. Then she realised what Jenny had just said, and she stopped in the doorway. “You can tell exactly how much time has passed?”

Jenny nodded. “Shouldn’t I be able to?” she asked. “I figured that was part of why we’re called Time Lords, so I didn’t even mention it.”

Rose laughed and linked her arms with her and Donna. “You were absolutely right,” she assured Jenny. “The Doctor didn’t know if you’d have time senses, though.”

She shook her head and chuckled to herself. No need to worry about Jenny being disappointed not to have time senses, love, she told him as they walked down the corridor. She just told me how long we’d kept you waiting, to the minute. The Doctor’s mind eased into relaxed excitement, and she could tell he was looking forward to teaching Jenny how to use her time senses.

“What’s Dad going to wear?” Jenny asked as they walked back to the console room. She blinked when Rose and Donna both laughed.

Donna snorted. “Your dad wears the same thing every day.” She fixed a pointed gaze on Rose, daring her to disagree. “Having the same suit in two colours doesn’t count.”

Rose shrugged; she couldn’t argue with that, especially not when he’d only worn the brown suit for more than a year. “Well, he wears a tux sometimes, if it’s necessary.” She bit her lip. “He looks really, really good in a tux,” she added.

Donna rolled her eyes. “Yeah, maybe. If your taste runs to blokes skinny enough to give you a paper cut.” She shook her head when Rose started to protest. “You can’t tell me he isn’t ridiculously skinny. And I don’t want to hear about what those suits might be hiding.”

Rose’s cheeks turned red, and Donna grinned at her. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The Doctor pounded on the door as they reached the console room. “We’ll be late for cocktails,” he shouted through the door.

The three women laughed, then Donna darted forward to block the doorway. “Now. Here’s how we’re going to do this. Once he sees you, Rose, he won’t even notice how lovely Jenny and I look. So we’re going out first, and then you can follow after a moment.”

Rose gaped at her, and that gave Donna the second she needed to step out of the TARDIS, arm-in-arm with Jenny. She didn’t miss the way the Doctor’s gaze slid past her, but she shut the door before he saw Rose.

Donna struck a pose, and Jenny imitated her, putting her hand on her hip. “What do you think?” Donna asked the Doctor. “Flapper or slapper?”

He blinked a few times, and she tensed, waiting for a teasing comment. But instead, a genuine smile spread across his face as he looked at her and Jenny. “Flappers. You both look lovely.”

Donna curtsied. “Thank you,” she said, putting on a posh voice.

The Doctor nodded, but his gaze drifted to the closed door behind her. Donna rolled her eyes, then spun around and rapped once on the door. She pulled Jenny out of the way before it opened. “Watch this,” she told the young woman.

The TARDIS door swung open. Donna and Jenny couldn’t see Rose from where they were, but watching the Doctor’s face, it was obvious when he first saw her. His eyes widened, alight with love and adoration as he stepped towards her.

Rose’s hand appeared first, and he took it and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. Then she stepped out into the sunlight and smiled up at him. The Doctor let go of her hand and pushed a curl back over her ear before leaning down to kiss her gently.

“Oh!” Jenny whispered. “I can feel that.”

“That is just weird,” Donna moaned. “All of you, absolutely mad.”

Jenny shook her head. “No, I just mean… they’re happy. Really, properly happy.”

“Happy is one word for it,” Donna muttered, but she couldn’t hide her own smile. She teased them about it, but watching the Doctor and Rose together gave her hope of finding love one day.

And yet… she thought when the Doctor wrapped an arm around Rose’s waist and pulled her close. “Oi!” she called out, getting the attention of the kissing couple. “If you’re done necking, I thought we were supposed to gather on the lawn for cocktails.”

“We were just… We weren’t necking,” the Doctor protested, and the tips of his ears turned red. Rose took his hand, and he sighed. “But yes, we need to make our way to the lawn.”

The Doctor cleared his throat as they approached the house. “There’s one thing we haven’t talked about,” he said, keeping his voice low. “I think it would draw the least amount of notice if we introduced Jenny as our daughter, Rose, instead of just mine. Certainly, it requires the least amount of explanation if we’re married and she’s ours.”

Rose nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Then we won’t get any questions about what happened to her mum.”

Jenny looked at them both, biting her lip in anticipation. “So you’re Mum and Dad today?” she asked.

“Yep,” the Doctor confirmed as they rounded the corner of the house, following the sounds of tinny music floating from a gramophone.

“And I can be your family friend, travelling with you,” Donna offered, just before a servant dressed in black approached them.

The Doctor threw up a hand in greeting. “Good afternoon.”

The servant bowed slightly. “Drinks, sir? Ma’ams?”

“Sidecar, please,” Donna said, while Rose requested a hanky panky.

“And a lime and soda for Jenny and myself,” the Doctor added. So far, Jenny had been unimpressed by every cocktail she’d tried, and he doubted she could get ale or cider in the middle of an English garden party. The footman nodded and walked away.

The Doctor pointed to the tables that had been set up in the shade of ancient trees. He was about to suggest they sit down, but another voice interrupted him.

“May I announce, Lady Clemency Eddison.”

The Doctor turned around when he heard Greeves’ voice and watched the butler cross the lawn, followed by a petite woman about sixty years old. He put on his most charming smile, then held his hands out and said, “Lady Eddison.”

The woman took his hand, but her narrowed eyes and thin lips suggested his effusive greeting hadn’t fooled her. “Forgive me, but who exactly might you be, and what are you doing here?”

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, with just a hint of affront that she could have forgotten. He pointed at the women as he named them. “My wife Rose Tyler, our daughter Jenny, and our dear friend Miss Donna Noble, of the Chiswick Nobles.”

Lady Eddison’s narrowed gaze landed on Rose and Jenny, and the Doctor knew what she was going to say before she opened her mouth. “You can’t possibly be old enough to be this young woman’s mother, Mrs. Tyler.”

Rose smiled. “Trust me, my lady, I’m older than I look. My physician makes a special tonic that I’ve taken every day since I met him.”

The Doctor coughed to hide his amusement at her clever word play. Then he held up the psychic paper to eliminate any further questions. “We were thrilled to receive your invitation, my lady. We met at the Ambassador’s reception,” he added, only stumbling slightly over the quickly concocted meeting.

The lines around Lady Eddison’s mouth eased. “Doctor, how could I forget you?” She moved towards a servant and took a drink from the tray he was holding. “But one must be sure with the Unicorn on the loose.”

“A unicorn?” the Doctor mused. “Brilliant. Where?”

“The Unicorn, love,” Rose corrected. “Which sounds like the name of a highwayman in a Regency romance.”

“He’s a jewel thief, actually,” Lady Eddison said. “Nobody knows who he is. He’s just struck again—snatched Lady Babbington’s pearls right from under her nose.”

She drifted away from them when a younger footman appeared with their prepared drinks. “Thank you,” Rose said as they each took the glass meant for them.

After he bowed and walked off with his empty tray, Jenny turned to them. “A jewel thief? Is that why we’re here, Dad?”

The Doctor considered as he took a sip of his water. “Possibly,” he allowed. “Though if we are, whatever they’re going to steal must be important.”

“May I announce Colonel Hugh Curbishley, the Honourable Roger Curbishley.”

At Greeves’ announcement, they turned around to watch a young man push an older gentleman in a wheelchair onto the lawn. Lady Eddison smiled at both of them. “My husband, and my son.”

“Forgive me for not rising,” the colonel said, patting his legs. “Never been the same ever since that flu epidemic back in eighteen.”

“My word,” Roger said to Donna, “you are a super lady.”

Donna curtsied slightly, a bright smile on her face. “Oh, I like the cut of your jib.” She raised her glass. “Chin, chin.”

The slang made the Doctor cringe, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, so he let it go… for now.

He offered his hand to Roger. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. My wife Rose and our daughter Jenny, and our friend Donna Noble.”

Roger stepped back and nodded at all of them. “How do you do?”

“Very well,” the Doctor replied.

The same servant who’d made their drinks appeared at Roger’s elbow. “Your usual, sir?”

“Ah.” Roger took a sip of the drink and smiled at the footman. “Thank you, Davenport. Just how I like it.”

Jenny shifted closer to him, and he looked down at his daughter. “I thought families were supposed to have the same surname,” she whispered. “But this family doesn’t.”

“I was about to ask the same thing,” Donna agreed.

The Doctor nodded at Lady Eddison, who was fussing over her invalid husband. “The Eddison title descends through her.” He gestured towards the son. “One day Roger will be a lord.”

Greeves appeared at the edge of the lawn again, this time with a fashionably dressed young woman just behind him. “Robina Redmond.”

Lady Eddison’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the guests already gathered. “She’s the absolute hit of the social scene,” she explained as the young woman sashayed out onto the lawn. “A must. Miss Redmond.”

The young woman smiled and shook the hand her ladyship offered. “Spiffing to meet you at last, my lady.” Her smiled slipped when she glanced around at the rest of the party. “What super fun,” she whispered, softly enough that the Doctor doubted anyone else heard.

She’s trying too hard, Doctor.

He nodded, but Greeves announced the next guest before he could say anything about Miss Redmond’s fake pedigree.

“Reverend Arnold Golightly.”

The vicar they’d seen earlier joined them, and Lady Eddison held her hand out for him to take. “Ah, Reverend. How are you? I heard about the church last Thursday night. Those ruffians breaking in.”

“You apprehended them, I hear,” Colonel Curbishley added.

The vicar nodded. “As the Christian Fathers taught me, we must forgive them their trespasses.” A smirk settled on the reverend’s face that didn’t match his words or his profession. “Quite literally.”

“Some of these young boys deserve a decent thrashing,” Roger declared.

Davenport appeared at his side again, simpering up at him. “Couldn’t agree more, sir.”

Ah. That’s what was off about the way he tried to flirt with Donna a moment ago, Rose said. It was just an act, so no one would notice he’s gay.

Donna had apparently had the same thought. She snorted and shook her head. “Typical. All the decent men are on the other bus.” She smirked at the Doctor. “You don’t count—you’re married.”

“Quite happily,” the Doctor agreed.

“Now, my lady,” Roger said to his mother. “What about this special guest you promised us?”

Lady Eddison pointed towards the house. “Here she is. A lady who needs no introduction.”

A tall, blonde woman in her thirties strode across the lawn to the accompaniment of applause, no matter that she tried to hold her hands out to keep them from applauding.

“No, no, please, don’t,” she said. “Thank you, Lady Eddison. Honestly, there’s no need.” She turned to the Doctor and held her hand out. “Agatha Christie.”

“What about her?” Donna asked before anyone else could say anything.

Agatha blinked; that clearly wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. “That’s me.”

“No!” Donna gasped. “You’re kidding.”

The Doctor walked over to her and took her hand, a giddy smile on his face. “Agatha Christie,” he gushed, shaking her hand energetically. “I was just talking about you the other day. I said, ‘I bet she’s brilliant.’ I’m the Doctor. This is Rose, Jenny, and Donna. Oh, I love your stuff. What a mind. You fool me every time,” he said, before he realised it wasn’t exactly the truth. “Well, almost every time.” He tugged on his ear. “Well, once or twice. Well, once. But it was a good once.”

Rose groaned. “Just… just trust me, Mrs. Christie. That was high praise coming from him.”

Agatha’s gaze darted back and forth between them. “You’re too accustomed to excusing your husband’s rather unusual behaviour…?”

“Rose. Rose Tyler,” Rose provided, hearing the leading question. “And I am, but I don’t mind.”

“Excuse me,” Donna interrupted. “How did you know they were married?”

Agatha looked over the Doctor’s shoulder at Donna. “Even if they weren’t wearing wedding rings, Mrs. Tyler’s comment was far too familiar to come from anyone but a wife.”

The Doctor grinned. “Oh, you are good.”

Lady Eddison had been lurking on the edge of their conversation, but she was clearly tired of waiting for her honoured guest to pay attention to her. She cut into the conversation swiftly, putting an arm on Agatha’s shoulder and turning her away from the Doctor, Rose, Jenny, and Donna. “Mrs. Christie, I’m so glad you could come. I’m one of your greatest followers. I’ve read all six of your books.” She paused and looked around, clearly expecting another person. “Ah, is, er, Mr. Christie not joining us?”

Agatha’s spine stiffened and she turned to look down at Lady Eddison. “Is he needed? Can’t a woman make her own way in the world?”

“Don’t give my wife ideas,” the colonel said, breaking the tension without even realising he’d done so.

Roger jumped in, apparently familiar with where that teasing comment would go. “Now Mrs. Christie, I have a question. Why a Belgian detective?”

Rose, Donna, and Jenny moved to mingle with the other guests, but the Doctor scooped up the paper that rested on Colonel Curbishley’s lap. “Excuse me, Colonel.” A glimmer of suspicion had entered the Doctor’s mind when Agatha showed such open hostility toward marriage, and he wanted to check his theory.

The conversation continued around him, but the Doctor stopped hearing it once he registered the date at the top of the paper. He pressed his lips into a thin line and motioned for Rose, Donna, and Jenny to join him.

The three women all gave him curious looks, then smiled at their conversation partners and casually crossed the lawn to join him.

“Is something wrong, Dad?” Jenny asked.

The Doctor couldn’t take his eyes off Agatha Christie. “The date on this newspaper,” he whispered, holding it up for them to see.

“What about it?” Donna asked.

He took a breath. “It’s the day Agatha Christie disappeared.”

Rose looked over his shoulder and frowned. “It’s a bit warm for December, isn’t it?”

The Doctor blinked. “Now that you mention it, one doesn’t usually sit outside sipping sidecars in December, no matter how mild English winters are.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Only you would find something ominous in unseasonably good weather.”

He shook his head as he set the paper back down. “Donna, you’re wearing a summer dress in December. The lawn is green and the flowers are in bloom. There is something very not right about all of this.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned in a slow circle. “The last time I witnessed global warming on this scale…”

The memory was right there, but it slipped away when he caught sight of Agatha Christie, chatting with Lady Eddison and her son, her drink in hand and a fake smile on her face. The sight diverted his attention from the weather, back to the significance of the date.

“She’d just discovered her husband was having an affair,” he murmured, speaking just loud enough for the three women to hear him.

“Oh, that’s awful,” Jenny breathed.

Donna shook her head. “You’d never think to look at her, smiling away.”

The Doctor rocked back on his heels and nodded in Agatha’s direction. “Well, she’s British and moneyed. That’s what they do. They carry on. Except for this one time. No one knows exactly what happened. She just vanished. Her car will be found tomorrow morning by the side of a lake. Ten days later, Agatha Christie turns up in a hotel in Harrogate. Said she’d lost her memory. She never spoke about the disappearance till the day she died, but whatever it was…”

“We’re here on the day that it’s going to happen,” Rose said, an irrepressible smile on her face. “Of course the TARDIS didn’t just take us someplace completely random.”

The Doctor nodded. “I’ve always wondered what happened, and now I get to find out.”

The Indian housekeeper, who had been sent to collect the remaining guest, came running back onto the lawn, waving her hand around. “Professor! The library! Murder! Murder!”

The words sent the posh guests into a tizzy, and while everyone was demanding more information of Miss Chandrakala, the Doctor turned to the butler. “Greeves, old chap, could you point me in the direction of the library?”

“It’s on the ground floor, sir. Just off the main corridor from the foyer.”

The Doctor took off running, and he heard Rose offer a hurried, “Thanks ever so much!” to the servant as they abandoned the party.

Inside, he turned in a quick circle in the middle of the foyer, then made a guess and dove for a door. He spotted bookshelves as he opened the door, and the body on the floor confirmed he’d made the right choice.

The Doctor put his glasses on as he and Rose crouched beside the dead man.

“Oh, my goodness,” Greeves moaned from the doorway.

“Bashed on the head—blunt instrument,” the Doctor announced. He tapped the watch face, but the hands didn’t move. “Watch broke as he fell. Time of death was quarter past four.” He leapt to his feet and shuffled through the papers on the desk, hoping to find something that would explain why someone would want to kill the professor.

“There’s a pipe here on the floor,” Rose said.

Donna hummed consideringly. “Call me Hercules Poirot, but I reckon that’s blunt enough.”

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught the Doctor’s attention, and he watched Agatha’s reflection in the glass curio cabinet as she bent down and plucked a piece of paper out of the fire pit.

He sighed when he reached the bottom of the stack of papers. “Nothing worth killing for in that lot. Dry as dust.”

That doesn’t make sense, Rose told him. He said he was coming to the library to look something up, so surely there’s something…

She took the papers from him and flipped through them herself while Donna and Jenny crowded around him. “So maybe we’re not here for the jewel thief after all,” Jenny suggested.

The Doctor pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth. “So it would seem, Jenny.”

“Hold on,” Donna murmured. “The Body in the Library?”

He immediately recognised the words as the title of an Agatha Christie novel, but he had a feeling that wasn’t Donna’s point.

She shook her head, but there was an excited gleam in her eyes. “I mean, Professor Peach, in the library, with the lead piping?”

“That’s like that game we played the other night, Dad. Cluedo?”

The remaining guests and their hosts crowded into the small room before the Doctor could answer either woman’s question. Lady Eddison was beside herself, and the entire party exclaimed, in restrained terms, over how horrible the death was.

Agatha remained a voice of reason. “Someone should call the police.”

The Doctor shook his head. If the TARDIS had dropped them here on purpose, there was a good chance the situation was more than a human policeman could handle. He showed the psychic paper again, focusing primarily on Agatha Christie. “You don’t have to. Chief Inspector Tyler from Scotland Yard, known as the Doctor. My family and I are on holiday, but it appears death doesn’t take a holiday.”

Rose snorted softly, and he winked at her.

“I say,” Lady Eddison moaned, clutching her necklaces.

The Doctor met her questioning gaze with a steady one of his own. “Mrs. Christie was right. Go into the sitting room. I will question each of you in turn.”

“Come along,” Agatha said, ushering everyone out of the room. “Do as the Doctor says. Leave the room undisturbed.”

As soon as they had the room to themselves again, the Doctor got down on the floor in front of the body, while Rose bent down and patted at the professor’s pockets. There had to be something they were missing…

“When we said we were going to a party, I wasn’t expecting we’d find a dead body,” Jenny said. “I mean… the other adventures we’ve had, we’ve been thrown right in from the start.”

Rose chuckled. “It’s like that sometimes, Jenny,” she told her. “We go to a party, thinking we’re just going to have a bit of fun, and then something happens.”

“Although this is the first time the adventure has been anything as mundane as a murder mystery,” Donna added.

The Doctor spotted a drop of slime on the floor. “Maybe not so mundane,” he said, scraping some of it up. He jumped up and showed it to the three of them. “Morphic residue.”

Rose frowned. “The stuff shape-shifting aliens leave behind when they change form?”

He held it up to the light. “Exactly.”

“The murderer’s an alien?” Jenny’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

The Doctor nodded. “Which means one of that lot is an alien in human form.”

“Yeah, but think about it.” Donna put her hand on his shoulder. “There’s a murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie.”

“So? Happens to me all the time.” He sniffed the residue and then stuck it under Rose’s nose.

“Smells like burnt toast,” she offered.

“Which means our murderer is an insectoid… though that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Like I was saying,” Donna said, her blue eyes narrowed in determination as she pressed her point. “Agatha Christie didn’t walk around surrounded by murders. Not really. I mean, that’s like meeting Charles Dickens and he’s surrounded by ghosts at Christmas.”

“We’ve done that actually,” Rose said. “And Shakespeare and witches.”

“Oh, come on!” Donna rolled her eyes. “And I suppose now you’re going to tell me we could drive across country and find Enid Blyton having tea with Noddy.”

Rose kept a straight face, and Donna’s jaw dropped.

“Noddy’s not real. Is he? Tell me there’s no Noddy.”

The Doctor bent down to look her in the eyes. “There’s no Noddy,” he said firmly, then jogged out of the room.

Rose shrugged at the disappointed woman. “Sorry, Donna, but they can’t all be real.”

Donna sighed. “I suppose.”

“Who’s Noddy?” Jenny asked.

Rose and Donna laughed. “He’s a character in a series of books. We’ve got them on the TARDIS—you can read them later.”

Donna grabbed them both by the hand. “Come on, let’s go after the Doctor, before he gets into alien trouble without us.”

They caught up with the Doctor at the foot of the stairs. “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me it’s like Murder on the Orient Express, and they all did it,” Donna said.

Rose sighed and rubbed her temple when a familiar voice came from the alcove off the stairwell. “Murder on the Orient Express?” Agatha repeated as she joined them.

Rose grabbed Donna’s hand and squeezed hard, and for once, the ginger took the hint and kept her mouth shut.

Agatha tapped her chin. “That’s a marvellous idea.” She shook her head. “I have a feeling this day will give me more book plots than I have time to write,” she said ruefully.

The Doctor stepped forward and rubbed his hands together. “Agatha, Rose, and I will question the suspects. Donna, you and Jenny search the bedrooms. Look for clues. Any more residue,” he added in a whisper as he pulled a large magnifying glass out of his jacket pocket. “You’ll need this.”

Donna’s lips curled in a sneer as she looked at the traditional detective’s tool. “Is that for real?”

Jenny grabbed the magnifying glass out of the Doctor’s hand and danced up a few steps. “Come on, Donna,” she said. “I’ve never gotten to help Dad on one of his investigations before.”

Donna sighed, but she didn’t protest any further. With one last look at the Doctor and Rose, she turned and followed Jenny up the stairs.

Once she was gone, the Doctor beamed at Agatha and bounced lightly on his toes. “Right then. Solving a murder mystery with Agatha Christie. Brilliant.”

“How like a man to have fun while there’s disaster all around him,” Agatha snapped.

The Doctor took a half-step back from her, then stopped and straightened. “That’s not what I meant,” he said calmly. “I’ve been a fan of yours for”—He caught himself before he could say how long—“since you published your first novel,” he amended. “Of course I’m excited I get to work with you on a case.” He sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “I suppose I did sound a bit flippant. Sorry about that.”

Agatha stared at him, an inscrutable expression on her face. Finally, she sighed and shook her head. “I’m afraid, Doctor, that you are going to be disappointed,” she said, her voice weary. “I’m merely an author, not a detective.” Before he could argue, she walked past him and stood in the library door. “Our first suspect will be joining us any minute. We should get ready.”

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #fic by Nancy #series: Being to Timelessness #cq's fic: forever and never apart #donna noble #jenny #episode: unicorn and the wasp #so much fun in this one!