A MURDER STORY

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.