A MURDER STORY
FOR MY BEST FRIENDS AND MY PARENTS
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I’d like explain two important things…
The first thing is “A murder story” and the second is… “A romantic present”, but today, I related the first thing.
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Aldrin stood in his bed, reading a letter. The letter saided:
Mr.McFlower, I’m Jessica McWindsurf.
I stay in London two weeks for do an important thing?
Want see you?
If you’d like my offer, you must send a postcard to my hotel. ç
I’m lodge in Hyde Park Hotel (Westminster street, 17).
See you soon. Your cousin,
Jessica.
Suddenly, Jane came into bedroom and saw her husband reading a letter. She asks:
- Who is send this letter?
- My cousin Jessica. She saids that saty in London, two weeks, and offer that we meet.
- What? It’s a brilliant idea! Can you write a postcard saying that we can see tonight in Trafalgar Square, at nine o’clock?
- Yes. Just now!
While Aldrin write the postcard, Jennifer helped her mother to do the dinner and Paul, played with his own computer.
But a misterious person rungs Aldrin.
- Hello, I’m Arthur Conan Doyle and I born in Emburg (1859) and died in Crowborough (1933).
- What are you tell me?
- That I’m Arthur Conan Doyle, an important writer.
- Are you the Sherlock Holmes’s writer?
- Yes.
- Ok. Mmm...And, why you rung me?
- Because I need your help. I visited my children with my own time’s machine and the battery was overused.
- Ok. Can you go to my house or stayed at Trafalgar Square?
- In your house.
- Tonight at nine o’clock?
- Ok.
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At nine o’clock…
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle apears in my garden, dead with a note:
For my friend...Aldrin McFlower,
I decided call my child Adrian Conan Doyle and kill me because I’m a resurrect lifeless and I need a peace and calm.
Carefully…
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
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