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.

MY STORIES