The Ball

A mystery at a costume ball.

The Ball

It was the Ball of the Winged Flight and the masks were covering the faces of the guests.  The mystery of the night was bubbling up through the costumes.  Feathers floated amongst the ladies with their masks delicate, light and pretty.  While the men wore plain, black and sleek masks stretching tight to their eyes, matching their masks they wore tuxes, black and white, sharp and striking.  The women wore full gowns sculpted into beautiful birds swooping with tail feathers flowing out behind and masks of delicate birds placed tenderly on their faces.

The ballroom was decorated with silver and gold lace.  On the lace were waves beads flowing around the columns of white marble that held the ceiling in its lofty place.  The ceiling held a chandelier about every ten feet that was covered in crystals that shimmered with the light.  The walls were lit with sconces the color of pink roses, they glowed across the wall and splashed pink across the floor.  The floor was made of white marble that fairly glistened in the twinkling light. 

I watched the dancers from above as they floated across the expanse of the floor, stepping to the music, so lively and fun.  Yet with their eyes covered, the mystery of the night was on.   As I watched from my vantage point I could see the characters of the night, who was dancing with whom and who was not dancing at all.

I am a fly on the wall, somebody not seen and not heard and not thought about.  Do you see the lady in the peacock dress?  She is married to the gentleman who is dancing with the Mourning Dove.  The Peacock giggles with her gentleman dancer while her husband, whispers in the ear of the Mourning Dove.  The man in the corner is the Constable.  He is waiting for some action.  What does he wait for?  Why is he here?  I see the Mayor talking to Lord Wister, are they contemplating a major problem within our society or are they talking about the last lover that Lord Wister had, the one that his mistress didn’t know about and his wife suspected. 

Will tonight be calm or will it be exciting?  What will I see in my balcony on the wall? 

The musicians take a break and the people start moving towards the buffet table.  The Peacock whisks toward the punch bowl and looks like she has needed refreshment for an everlastingly long time.  The Mourning Dove starts toward the punch also, and then seeing the Peacock, she veers off to the canapés.  The handsome husband steps over to his wife and pecks her on the cheek.  They talk and smile, both knowing that they are lying. 

The Constable decides that life is boring on the wall, so he strolls around the room to have little chats with the guests of the ball.  He never stays long at any one group.  He speaks but a moment and then moves on. 

The Mayor and Lord Wister split up.  The Mayor walks over to his wife to put his arm around her waist and speaks to her like they have been together for years.  She smiles in reply.  The only reply he needs. 

Lord Wister slides over to a meek looking Goldfinch in a ball gown hemmed high to her mid thigh.  The back of the gown slips down to the floor with golden feathers flicking out from the sides.  He speaks with her and she holds her head down.  Her face shows shyness, no, is that coy?  Does she want to be the next in line?  He whispers something else to her, while slowly inching closer.  She carefully smiles and he knows it’s an invitation. 

The musicians are back in their places and the next song plays.  A waltz, the beauty of it warms you to your toes.  You slip into a world of enchantment through the notes that flow off the instruments.  Our Peacock is back on the floor with her dance partner, not her husband. The Mourning Dove is looking for the man whom she was enjoying, but he is not there.  Where is he?  She flits about the room saddened for she cannot find him. 

There is a Hummingbird coming into view.  What a magnificent dress.  The greens and blues on the back and sides of the dress are iridescent and flash rainbows across the floor.  The ruby red flowing up the front glides to her neck, she wears a mask of cream with green and blue feathers floating off one side.  She is the Mayor’s daughter.  The Mayor’s wife comes up to the Hummingbird and starts talking to her.  The Mayor’s wife is dressed as a goose.  She is a smart woman and her love for her husband makes her a strong woman, if not dangerous.  An owl comes up to the ladies and starts to converse with them.  They are talking in high spirits, something funny; all of the women are smiling, obvious comrades. 

The Mourning Dove comes up to each person who is not dancing and asks where the gentleman has gone, but alas she comes up empty, empty of her dance partner and empty of her hope.  No, who is that?  Could it be?  He is coming in the door now.  Ooohh, how happy she is.  The Mourning Dove whisks over to him and coos in his ear as she puts her arm around him in ownership.  He is smiling, happy to see her.  He scoops her onto the dance floor and they float on a cloud of music. 

I am lying on my belly to see all I can see.  My balcony is so small, but I can still spy on whoever I want.  They don’t know that I am here. 

The Constable is looking around suspecting everybody of everything.  He is not horrible, just non-trusting.  Why should he trust?  He has been at his business a long time and has learned that the humans are all liars and thieves no matter how innocent they may seem.   To watch this parade of human tragedy flounce around him is almost overwhelming.  He changes his mind and starts looking at the chandeliers, then the sconces on the walls, and then, oh as he brought his head up he saw my balcony.  I do not move.  I stay as still as I can be.  I will be safe.  He will not see me.  He smiles and starts to move his eyes to the dancers again. 

There are many, many people here.  Every type of bird known to man has a costume in this room.  With the black and white tuxes for back drop the beauty is astounding.  The feathers float, as the dancers swoop and swirl, this is the place for romance if ever I saw it.  This is the place for dreams to come true.   But these people are not ordinary.  These people have money.  Their money sets them aside from the ordinary person.  They think they are rich, so they don’t go by the same rules as the ordinary person does.  Not all rich people are like that, only certain ones, these people.  They are here for show.  They are here to parade their wealth, to bring the manifestation of respectability to their person.

I did not see the Goldfinch come back from the break.  Where could she be?  I was not watching her while the musicians gave the dancers an intermission.  She is not here now.  Where could our little Goldfinch have flown? 

The Mourning Dove and her dance partner are moving as if they were liquid in the air.  They smile, they roll, and they twirl, a magnificent performance.  His hand slips low on her back, be careful the wife is nearby.

Lord Wister is back, from somewhere.  His step is light, too light.  His smile is wide, too wide.  He returned rather late to the ball.  The musicians have been playing for awhile.  Where have you been, Lord Wister?  The Constable looks like he would like to know also.  He is walking towards the Lord and is cut off by a couple dancing the tango.  Now he has lost Lord Wister.  Where are you Lord Wister?  Disappear, reappear, not very trusting of you sir. 

The Peacock has been having a grand time with her counterpart.  He is a handsome man and he has money, but his is new money.  The acceptance into this crowd would be the ultimate.  He will be at all the right parties, in all the right houses, seeing all the right people.  What more could he ask for? 

The Peacock knows what she is doing.  She has done it before.  To dance with anyone but her husband is totally fantastic.  It gives life excitement.  Their marriage fell apart years ago.  They stay together just for the money and convenience.   Any night that she can escape to another world, is a night to remember.

A man has just come into the room.  He has a determined face on him.  He is not rich and does not have money.  You can tell he is not one of them; he does not put on airs.  He walks swiftly across the ballroom to where the Constable has been standing, surveying the scene as he strides through the room.

A whisper in the ear whips the Constable’s eyes wide, quickly he walks across the ballroom floor to the door and out of it he went.  I see no more at this time, only the dancing of the guests below. 

Time goes by and the Constable does not come back.  I think he had an emergency out in the town somewhere.  Our guest are dancing, getting punch and eating as they need to.  The dancers parade across the ballroom floor with their heads held high and as their feet slide across the floor with a gentle ease of movement. 

The peacock stops dancing, the Goose lady has also stopped dancing.  They converge on the food table and bump each other.  An innocent action, maybe, but is it.  A hand caresses the gooses arm, the gesture is too friendly.  A closer look tells me that the goose lady and the peacock are sisters.  The goose gently places her hand on the peacock’s hand.  It is strange how you can tell who someone is even though they wear a mask.  The peacock starts talking to the goose lady as she picks up a small treat.  The goose lady replies to the peacock as she pops a morsel into her mouth. 

Suddenly the door burst open with a thundering sound that resounded around the ballroom.  The Constable stands in front of the crowd of guests and holds up his hands for silence.  The musicians stop playing and place their instruments onto their laps.  The crowd stills, no one talks at all.  They turn to face the Constable and give him their undivided attention.

“Attention, attention please, I am sorry to announce that there has been a tremendous tragedy.  A death has occurred here tonight.  A murder has blackened this engaging masquerade ball.  The young lady who was dressed as a goldfinch has lost her life tonight.”  He told the wondering crowd.  He held his head as high as he could to see the reactions of the dancers.  Whispers came forth out of the crowd.  The intake of breath was immediate.  Murmuring and shifting commenced throughout the dancers.  “You will all have to remain here until we have questioned every person in this room.  Please continue to dance and we will pull each one of you aside to ask you questions.”  The Constable then left the room.

The chatter became deafening.  People darted hither and thither, talking to this person and asking about that person.  The noise rose up, higher and higher, even up where I was, one could not think.  The musicians started playing, one by one each instrument was picked up and the notes were slowly being placed together in a flowing melody and the dancers could not help themselves but to commence their promenade on the ballroom floor.  There was a subdued thought oozing through the ballroom, a thought that eased through cracks and whispered through peep holes, the words that were on the tip of everyone’s lips, the thought of “Who did it?”  People were sullen, not as gay and happy as they once were.  Instead of gliding through the songs, they were drug through like a task that you didn’t really want to do, but knew you must.

A death did not shock me.  A murder did not shock me.  I knew these people were capable of awful things.  Things you and I would not do.  I will keep watching them.  I will see who the murderer is.  I know the murderer is here. 

The Constable started to take guests out of the room, one at a time to question them.  Escorting them himself he watched the reaction of the suspect, he also watched the reaction of the other guests.  As each guest came back into the room there was a little halt in the dancing.  Then the next person went out and the dancing commenced once more.  This was quite a show.  I enjoyed it immensely.  When the men came back in, they looked shaken and out of sorts.  When the ladies came back in, they had been crying, streaks of tears ran down their faces.  The men flew to the punch bowl to subdue their nerves and the ladies dabbed their eyes and blew their noses to gather themselves together enough to start dancing again.  They danced as if they had spent their last bit of energy doing the one thing they hated.

Part way through the questioning the guest started to get agitated.  Their nerves were stretching thin and their fears were heightening.  They started to talk louder again as they crowded around the refreshment table for something to do.  The leader of the musicians stood and spoke in a loud voice, “Now the Constable would like us to keep playing music and he would like you to keep dancing.  So let’s try to please him.”  With that he turned back to the musicians picked up his baton and started the music once again. 

The guests were not happy, but they slowly walked back onto the floor and began dancing once again.  The Constable came in and stood in front of the door, surveying the guests.  I could see the concentration on his face as he looked at each person, trying to analyze them to see if he would trust them, if they are lying or are they telling the truth.  He stepped out onto the ballroom floor looking into each person’s eyes as he stepped around the couples dancing, his eyes on them and their eyes on him.  Through the whole room he walked like this, next person, next person, on and on.  (I don’t think he has enough evidence on anyone to prove who murdered the Goldfinch.) 

The Constable walked back out the door and disappeared.  While he was gone Lord Wister walked to the wall and leaned on it to rest.  He held his head in his hand and rubbed his hair.  When picking his head up I could see worry in his eye and he had bits of perspiration on his forehead.  One could say that he looked like a man that had something to hide.  The husband walked up to Lord Wister and chatted with him for a moment.  Lord Wister shook his head no.  The husband put his arm around Lord Wister’s shoulders consoling him with manly pat and a smile on his face.  The husband then went back to the dance floor to find his Mourning Dove. 

The husband was merrily dancing with the Mourning Dove.  The Mourning Dove was smiling as if she had the world in her pocket.  They made a beautiful couple.  The wife is back on the dance floor once again.  It seems her partner has returned.  The men wander too much, first they are there and then they are not, just when you think they are gone, they reappear.

The door opens and the Constable walks in with a Bobby.  They are talking and pointing out over the dance floor.  Is he pointing out the suspects?  Who is the guilty party?  Then the Constable points up.  They both walk out. 

There is no effect on the dancing crowd as I watch out over their heads.  They are just dancing around.  I wonder what’s going on in their minds.  What are they thinking of?  Their thoughts are pulled to worrying.

What’s that sound?  It’s coming from behind me.  Someone has my foot.  I slowly turn around frightened of what I will see and there is the Bobby.  He motions for me to come out of my hiding place and so I do.  I know I have no choice.  When I get out of my hole and stand up, I see the Constable in front of me, his arms on his hips and a smile on his face.

“Have you been there all night?”  He asks me, trying to look stern.

“Yes I have.”  I tell him, a sheepish grin evolving across my face.

“Can you tell me what you have seen tonight?”  He asks me, a bit more serious.

“I can.”   I was serious and a bit proud.  I proceed to tell him everything that I have seen over the past few hours.  The Peacock, the Mourning Dove, Lord Wister, the Mayor, the men, the women, I told him all that had transpired in front of my eyes.

“Can you tell me more about the Goldfinch?”  He asked me concern touching his voice.

“Yes, as much as I know.”  I tell him.  “The Goldfinch acted shy, but I don’t think she was.  She acted like she wasn’t sure of herself, but I think she knew what she was doing.  She acted fake, she was.”

“Who did you see leave during the break?”  The Constable asks.  A knowing look flitted across his face, and then suddenly was replaced with a questioning look.

“I saw no one leave during the break.  I was watching the refreshment table.”  I told the Constable.

“Thank you.  Are you up here often?”  He asks me, he smiles a soft, friendly smile.

I tell him the truth, even though I don’t want him to know. “Yes, I am.”

“Can you help me when I need it?”  He asks.  He is making a deal with me.

I tell him, “I think I would like that.”  I have enjoyed myself tonight in my hiding place on the wall.  I savor these moments when I steal glimpses from other’s lives.

“Thank you.”  He tells me and then promptly turns and leaves.  The Bobby points to my hole and nods his head.  I climb back in.

I start watching the scene once more.  The players are a little twisted around, but all with their rightful partners or not so rightful partners.  Lord Wister is still leaning on the wall with his head hanging down.  Poor man, life is not good to you.  The husband is still with the Mourning Dove.  The wife is dancing with her eyes closed and the Mayor and his wife are bouncing around the ballroom, dancing to a beat of their own.

The Constable walks in the door, holds his hands up for silence and makes an announcement, “We are going to search each person here.  We will set up a table with a curtain around it.  For the ladies comfort and propriety of the situation we have a female guard to do the search of the ladies.  Please line up after we have set up the searching station.”  The Constable had the searching station set up in my view.  He is a cunning man.  He wants me to watch also.  He quickly glances up, tips his finger to his head and starts the process.

The musicians stop playing and the guests stop dancing.  They all turn towards the Constable.  Many guests line up outside the searching station, others are milling about.  Some of the dancers want this over with and some can wait for they might be hiding a guilty part of them.  The Constable points to the first person in line and begs them to come in.  I watch from my vantage point and see nothing with this first guest.  As the Constable pats down the person he holds each item up in front of him and I get a perfect view of the item.  He goes through each guest in this manner.  The female guard hands the items to the Constable and he holds them up in front of him.  I see nothing unusual until I see Lord Wister come in.  When they look at what he has in his pockets they pull out a ladies white hanky.  It has the embroidery in one corner, a delicate hanky for a delicate nose.  The Constable looks at the hanky and then at Lord Wister.  Lord Wister looks in shock at the hanky and then in shock at the Constable.  Now who is playing who?

Well, what a turn of events.  Either Lord Wister forgot it was there or somebody planted it on him.  Is Lord Wister a bigger fool than I thought?  Or is he a very cunning man?  His face was stretched in tension and his hands were tight with stress.  Was he a liar or was he telling the truth?  Lord Wister what have you been up to?

Next was the husband.  He came proudly into the station and put his arms up for the inspection.  No abnormal items were found.  He had a pipe, tobacco, a lighter, and a watch in his pockets, everything normal.  I am sure his Mourning Dove will be happy. 

The Mayor walked into the curtain area.  He stood straight as an arrow with no sweat on his brow and his hands calm at his sides, there is no tension in him at all.  He was patted down with a thorough hand and only a small pad of paper and a short pencil was found on him.  A free man I do decide.

The Goose was next.  She only had a hanky and she went through the whole process with dignity.  The Hummingbird came after the Goose.  Her elegance shines through.  She has her mother in her, a strong woman who knows herself.  She will make a perfect wife someday, to the right man. 

The Peacock comes in and she has her handbag with her.  She is proud, with her situation any woman would have to be to continue on.  They find nothing with her.  I find her innocent too. 

It is the Mourning Doves turn.  She is meek and scared.  She doesn’t want to be searched.  What is she saying?  The Constable is not happy.  He motions for the female guard to get on with it.  The search on the Mourning Dove is done in no time and the Mourning Dove is sent away.  As she leaves she is weeping.  A pitiful creature if ever I saw one.

The Constable and his crew finish searching the last guest.  The area is taken down, the music is started and I am watching the dancers once again twirling and floating around the ballroom. 

The Constable shows up behind me and questions me again. 

“Did you notice anything?”  He asked me as I straightened myself out.

“I noticed Lord Wister nervous as can be and the husband, too secure to be innocent.”  I told the Constable.

“You observe well.  Was there anything else that you would like to tell me?”  He asked with a wise grin on his face. 

“The ladies are innocent.  None of them displayed any actions out of their character.”  I told him.

“My thoughts also, I am glad we agree.  Do you have any questions for me?”  He asked wanting as much information as he could get.

“Just one, have you found any physical evidence lying around?”  I let him think.

“No not yet, I’m afraid our searches have been for naught.”  He explained.

Nodding his head to me, he turned and walked back downstairs to the dance floor.

The guests are starting to get tired.  I think the day is wearing on them.  The door opens and the Constable comes back in.  He holds his hands up for silence.  The music stops and the dancers stand still to watch the Constable with questioning, fearful eyes. 

The Constable starts speaking slowly and precisely, “We have had a murder here tonight.  The Goldfinch was strangled with part of a window curtain.  We would like to ask some questions of the crowd and hopefully get some honest answers.”  He stops speaking and surveys the crowd.  The dancers are guilty of many things, but only one is guilty of murder.

The guests began to search out each other.  The panic was rising in the air.  People started to murmur and the din grew very loud.  The Constable looked at the Bobby, nodded and the Bobby blew his whistle.  Silence suddenly came over the guests once again and the attention was brought back to the Constable. 

“I would like a show of hands of those people who left the ballroom during the musicians break.”  About fifteen people put their hands into the air, some hands shot up, while others were more hesitant.  This includes Lord Wister, the husband, the Mayor and the Hummingbird.  “One by one please tell us what you were doing while you were out and when you came back.”  He told the crowd. 

A Bobby went to each person who had their arm raised and that person told why they were out and about how long they were gone.  The Hummingbird told of her flight to the ladies room and she was gone only a few minutes.  When she came back she talked to her mother.  Lord Wister said that he had gone out for a walk around the grounds and came back late.  The Mayor wanted to talk to Lord Wister again, saw that he had gone out the door, but couldn’t find Lord Wister, so he came back into the ballroom.  The husband was last.  He told the Constable that he needed to have a smoke; he wasn’t gone long and was back before the musicians started to play. 

Once again a tap on my foot told me I wasn’t alone.  I squirmed my way out of my hiding place and stood facing the Constable. 

“We have found one piece of evidence.”  As he told me he brought his hand up in front of his face and in it was a silver pointed spade shaped object that was smaller than a pen.  “It’s a pipe cleaning tool.  We didn’t see it at first but we brought out more light and something glinted in the grass.”

“How far away from the body was it?”  I asked him my curiosity was peaked.

“Right beside where the body lay.”  A grin slid across his face and his eyes twinkled with the delight of success.

“So we are looking for a smoker, not just a smoker, but a smoker of a pipe.”  I deducted.

“You’re right.  Get in position; I’m going to ask a few questions of our little group.”  His expression changed to confirmation.

I crawled back into place and watched from my vantage point.  The Constable walked through the door and approached the dancers again.

“Those who left the ballroom please raise your hands again.”  The Constable asked those who had raised their hands, “Of you fifteen, how many smoke?”  Five kept their hands raised.  “How many smoke a pipe?”  Only one kept his hand raised, only the husband.  “Do you clean your pipe?”  The Constable asked.

“Yes of course I do.”  He answered. 

“Do you carry the cleaning implement with you?”  The Constable asked.

“Yes I do.  I don’t like having a dirty bowl.  I clean it before I smoke, every time.”  The husband answered the Constable. 

“Do you have this implement on you now?” 

“Of course I do.  It’s right here.”  He reached into his pocket and brought out his pipe, his tobacco and his lighter.  He reached in it again.  Nothing came out this time.  He had a worried look upon his face.  He knew he was done.

“Why did you do it?”  The Constable asked the husband.

“She was talking to Lord Wister and I didn’t like it.  I went to confront her and she slapped me and told me it was none of my business what she did.  She owes me a lot of money and I knew Lord Wister would mess up my deal with her.  He seems to be able to charm any woman.”  The husband explained.

“Thank you, my friend.  I was wondering if you would give yourself away.”  The Constable went to the husband and placed him under arrest for the murder of the Goldfinch.  As they were leaving the Constable looked up to me in my hiding place, smiled and tapped a finger to the brim of his hat.