A Murder Mystery – Epilogue


Last year I tried my hand at writing an Agatha Christie-style murder mystery. The main character was Lady Audrey Patterson, who was my ‘Miss Marple’. You can read the start of this particular story here:


When I wrote the ending (linked below) I always intended to write an epilogue to tie up loose ends. This is the Epilogue.



Her nephew lay on the cold kitchen floor completely knocked unconscious. Mrs Buscombe, the cook still held the large frying pan in her hand and a look of pure acrimony on her face.

“He was the one that Killed my Elsie! I knew it as soon as he tried to run through here.”

Four tall policemen came into the kitchen followed by her guests still looking confused.

As the police carried her nephew’s unconscious body away, Lord Halifax spoke.

“I Still don’t understand why he killed Claudia? Were they lovers?”

“No, Claudia liked to flirt with the young men, but they didn’t really mean anything to her. I think his motives were more financial than sexual. Charles, you see, liked to borrow money, I think she indulged him, just like I did because he was young and handsome and full of life. I think she decided to stop giving him money, maybe she threatened to tell you about it. That’s what caused him to act, I think.”

“Oh, I see, all her loveliness and vivaciousness snuffed out for mere cash.”

Lady Patterson shook her head, to someone as wealthy as Lord Halifax, he could never understand the desperate lengths some people would go to acquire more money. Unfortunately, her nephew was one of those people to whom morals were less important than the meeting of his own desires.

Continue reading A Murder Mystery – Epilogue


A Frisson from the past – Part one.

Some of you may be aware that I recently took a trip down to Devon and while there visited the home of one of my literary heroes, Agatha Christie. It was such a thrill to see her house and it really felt that she was still there, maybe just popped out to get a pint of milk. Inspired by my trip I wanted to write a story based on one of the minor characters that she’d written. So here is my attempt:IMG_4417.JPG

Miss Felicity Lemon sat at the desk in her study, the morning light streaming through the window, and did what she always did at that point of the day, she made a list. Always methodical, she sat down every morning and made a list of the all the tasks she intended to do. She left out the mundane things, like washing, attending to her hair and breakfast, but listed all the other tasks in a systematic and thorough manner. An early riser, she always wrote her morning correspondence first thing, so that she could ensure her letters went off in the morning post. It was too early for most people to make her necessary telephone calls, people seemed to be quite upset if you rang before 9am.

As she wrote, her eye fell on a silver-framed picture that had pride of place on her desk. It was a picture of her one of her former employers, Monsieur Hercule Poirot. Of all her employers, he had been the most satisfactory. He had a sense of order and method that matched hers, and a sense of decorum that sadly was lacking generally nowadays. Looking back on those days as his secretary, she remembered him fondly. He had been a great man, a private detective and though very famous in his day, now seemed to be almost forgotten. She considered it strange that when the fictional detective, Sherlock Holmes, still loomed large in peoples mind the greatest detective, M. Poirot, had sadly diminished. Lacking any British sense of modesty, he would have vehemently agreed with her view, but despite his ego, he was undoubtedly the best. Not without acrimony, she considered it a shame that he no longer had the fame he so deserved.

She had a frisson of emotion, remembering those times when she had helped her employer solve a gruesome murder. She would never have admitted it to anyone, but underneath her calm and ordered manner, she had enjoyed working on those cases. Each one, like a jigsaw puzzle or a crossword, so impossible at first, but as you slowly slotted things into place, the solution became clear. She’d never murmur the phrase, ‘little grey cells’ but she had used her own methods and often had guided her employer to the right conclusion. Not that he ever really knew she had. She was always discreet. Oh, how she sometimes longed for something like that to happen, just like the old days. Her life had become so humdrum, and while she looked very much like the person who preferred life to be dull, predictable and humdrum, and she would never be one to actively court adventure, she did enjoy it when life brought something to her door.

She finished her last letter, a complaint to the laundry who had taken to using far too much starch on her collars and having stamped and addressed the envelope she stood and walked towards the front door. As she did so, she heard a loud scream come from one of the other apartments, followed by a frantic ringing of her own doorbell.

No English person ever rang a doorbell in that persistent and demanding manner, foreigners often did but only in a state of pure desperation would an English person ever hold down the doorbell for longer than two seconds.

Opening the door, Miss Lemon was surprised to see a young woman standing there, her long brown hair dishevelled and looking quite pale and distraught.

“Oh, please help, there’s been a murder!” the woman said.

To be Continued…..


I have included the following word prompts:


FOWC with Fandango — Court




A Gallery of Photo’s from my Trip to Devon.

The Word of the Day is Gallery, here is a gallery of photos from my recent trip to Torquay in Devon.


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This is me in front of Haytor Rocks on Dartmoor.

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Some Wild Dartmoor ponies sheltering from the rain.

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This is Greenway – It was the home of the Queen of Crime Fiction, Agatha Christie.

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This is one of the beautiful views of the River Dart from the grounds of Greenway.

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Brixham Harbour, with the sun just coming out after a morning of rain.

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Dancing with my Rainbow umbrella in the rain.

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This is part of Dartmouth Castle on the River Dart.

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This is a grand house called Carlton Fishacre, a beautiful house set in spectacular gardens, it’s near Brixham in Devon.


The Beach at Goodrington near Paignton, Devon (you can see the very red coloured sand that’s common in this part of Devon). In the distance you can see a cruise ship that was full of American visitors to Torquay, they are now sailing to Ireland.


I hope you enjoyed these pictures from my recent trip to Devon. 🙂

Mystery Blogger Award Nomination

I am absolutely thrilled to have been nominated for this Mystery Blogger Award by Rory, A guy called bloke, who is a fantastic blogger and definitely a blogging friend of mine, click on the link to check out his post:

Mystery Blogger Award


So? What is the Mystery Blogger Award?

“Mystery Blogger Award” is an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging, and they do it with so much love and passion.

Okoto Enigma


Here are the rules: 

  1. -Put the award logo/image on your blog
  2. -List the rules
  3. -Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog
  4. -Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well
  5. -Answer the 5 questions you were asked
  6. -Tell your readers 3 things about yourself
  7. -You have to nominate 10 – 20 people
  8. -Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog
  9. -Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question
  10. -Share a link to your best post(s)



3 Things About Yourself!

  1. I’ve been to the Isle of Wight about 20 times.
  2. I have never been to New York
  3. I often sing Patsy Cline songs at the top of my voice.


My chosen post:

Last year, I thought I would try my hand a writing a story in the style of Agatha Christie, that brilliant crime writer of the 20th Century. Click on the link below to read my take on the Murder Mystery genre.



Five Questions from Rory,

  1. Are we losing the art of listening in comparison to simply hearing?

there always were people who were more inclined to speak and only pause to think about what they are going to say next rather than listen to the other person. Are there more people like that now that before? I don’t know, maybe.

2. How often do you openly discuss with friends or here in WP with your readership topics that make you feel uncomfortable or maybe taboo or stigma laden?

My blog is to write fiction so I address difficult topics in my stories, I’ve written stories about murderers, psychotic killers and armageddon, but I don’t tend to directly talk about the problems that face us today, or politics or any other uncomfortable topics. Mine isn’t a current affairs blog, it’s about creative writing, but then art reflects life.

3. Do you think that these discussions should be freely discussed and written about more?

If that’s what your blog is about then, yes discuss away, we live in a free society where free speech is important.

4. Did you have a nickname as a child and if so, what was [or what is it now]?

I had and have lots of nicknames, I smile a lot so am often called ‘Smiler’ and not ironically. My name is shortened to Kris or sometimes, Krissy 😉 I also have various nicknames based on my surname. Call me anything you like, but call me, I’d hate to be ignored. 😉

5. Why is there still ‘stuff’ we simply just don’t understand despite our progressive world?

It would be a pretty boring world if we understood everything, the more we know the more we realise there is a lot more unknown out there to discover, and thank goodness for that!


My Questions for you:

  1. Where do you think all the things that are lost go to?
  2. If we go forward in time far enough would we end up back at the beginning?
  3. What is the greatest mystery that you would like to know the answer to?
  4. Do you think we’ll ever find intelligent life in space?
  5. Do you think we’ll find it on earth?


My nominees:



Song of the Day-in Honor of 9/11-There She Stands, Michael W. Smith

Crazy screaming squirrel…


If anyone else would like to have a go, then consider yourself Nominated, after all, Life is the Mystery we are all a part of. 🙂


My Favourite Books – A Poem

This was written in response to a challenge set by Esther Chilton on her blog, see here:



The Bookshelf loomed as large as life,

Containing books that gave such joy.

Like the novel named the Subtle Knife,

And the Roald Dahl book named simply, ‘Boy’.

Those Discworld books by Terry Pratchett

And that Christmas tale of poor Bob Cratchit.

Nothing has a plot more twisty,

than a mystery by Agatha Christie.

But the book that tops my favourite list,

By Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 27/September/2018


* Of course, this is not a complete list of my favourite books


Everything Stops for Tea – Murder Mystery Grand Finale

I started writing a murder mystery some time ago, This is the final chapter.

If you’d like to read this story from the beginning, click on this link:


Everything Stops for Tea

She had only taken one sip of the tea when the doorbell rang yet again. It was an impudent ring and it didn’t surprise her at all when Alice opened the door and her great-nephew bounded in.

“Afternoon Auntie, I got your note” Charles beamed at her then looked around at the gathered assembly. “What’s this all about Aunt Audrey? Did you want to make up a four for Bridge? That’s not really my game, more of a Cribbage man myself.”

“Just be quiet Charles and sit over there” Audrey pointed at a vacant chair next to Lord Halifax.

Audrey stood up and cleared her throat.

I have asked you all here to discuss the unfortunate deaths of Elsie Taplow and Claudia Halifax.

Audrey couldn’t complain she hadn’t received due attention. Several pairs of eyes were locked on her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to do this?” Sir Alfred was clearly taken off guard “We were supposed to be working together.”

Standing at her full height, Audrey’s blue eyes flashed, she had never looked more alive.

“I couldn’t trust you fully. You could have very well been the killer. You came to call on me very early on that morning when poor Elsie’s body was found. You could have just come from killing her. I’ve seen it before, an old policeman, feeling obsolete and no longer useful. They go off the rails a bit. They want to make themselves important again, make themselves relevant. So why not create a murder to make them more relevant?”

Sir Alfred looked quite pale as he sat there looking up at Audrey.

Continue reading Everything Stops for Tea – Murder Mystery Grand Finale

The Guests Arrive for Tea – A Murder Mystery Continues

I started writing a murder mystery some time ago, we are almost at the end now.

If you’d like to read this story from the beginning, click on this link:



The Guests arrive for Tea

Having refreshed herself with a cup of tea and one of Mrs Buscombe’s excellent Egg mayonnaise sandwiches, Audrey decided to change her clothes. She had been roused out of bed early that morning by a telephone call from Sir Alfred Thorpe. It had been to see the dead body of a poor young man, Christopher Copeland, who had apparently committed suicide, having also confessed to murder.

That could well have been the end of the whole investigation. Although it did not satisfy her. Not in the slightest. It may well have provided an explanation for Claudia Halifax’s murder, but it still did not explain the death of her own Maid, Elsie. Elsie had been a nice girl, a trifle naïve and it appeared she was a bit swayed by gifts and trinkets, but that wasn’t a bad thing. She was sure that the suicide and confession of that poor young man had been part of a wicked and insidious ploy to shift the focus away from the real culprit.

She changed into a wrap-around dress in a pale lavender colour and having rearranged her hair she went back downstairs to await her guests. She was just at the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang. She checked her watch, it was just past three-thirty, far too early for the guests she’d invited for afternoon tea. As she was crossing the hall, she answered the door herself.

Standing there, in his civilian clothes of dark grey tweed, was Constable Jones.

“May I have a word with you, Lady Patterson?” He asked politely but with a distinct tone of anxiety about it.

“Yes, of course, Constable, come this way.” She led him into the drawing-room and sat down in her sofa and pointed him towards a chair.

“Thank you. I’m not on duty, it’s just Caradoc Jones. I wanted to make a confession to you, if you don’t mind.”

“You wish to make a confession? Are you going to tell me what you were doing on the Thursday night when Elsie was murdered?”

Caradoc Jones’ face went bright red “Erm, yes, yes I was. How did you know?”

“Because, Mr Jones, I went to the Cinema on Thursday evening myself and saw, not ‘Angel over Islington’ which didn’t start showing until the following weekend, but Dial M for Murder. I knew then that you lied to me. What were you doing? Had you been following Elsie?”

“Not then. I admit I had been following Elsie, after she chucked me over. I wanted to know what she was doing, who she was seeing, but gradually, I began to realise that I didn’t care anymore. That Thursday I was in the company of Mavis Pruitt. She’s the Maid at number 33. We’re engaged to be married now.”

“That all seems rather sudden Mr Jones. Elsie’s only been dead two weeks.”

“Yes, well I’ve always been quite friendly with Mavis, even before Elsie come on the scene. Elsie, she was a fair girl, very pretty and at first she seemed really keen on me, so Mavis just faded into the background, you see?”

“Yes, I see and after Elsie chucked you she suddenly came back into the foreground again, is that it?”

“Well, yes, not right away. At first, I was cut up about it, I admit it, I used to follow her around. I saw the odd glimpse of the person she’d chucked me for. Then I got over it. Mavis made me realise she was the one for me all along.”

Audrey wasn’t altogether interested in Constable Jones’ love life, something he’d said just caught her attention.

“You say you managed to catch a glimpse of the man Elsie was with? Why didn’t you tell Sir Alfred that? What was the man like? Was he tall and blond?”

“I only caught a brief glimpse of him, He was a toff, fancy clothes. He wasn’t tall, he was stocky. I didn’t see his hair, he had a top hat on.”

“Was he Old, or Young?”

“It was hard to say, I only saw him from a distance and from behind. He did have an unusual way of walking though, sort of hunched like.”

“Do you think you’d recognise him if you saw him again?”

“Well, I might. Why, what did you have in mind?”

“I am having a gathering in a short while. A few people will be arriving and I want you to sit in the morning room, which over looks the street and observe my guests as they arrive, then come and tell me if any of them could have been the man you saw in the park with Elsie.”

“Well, I suppose, if you think it may help.”

“It will make amends for not coming forward with this information sooner. I will forget all about it, if you help me.”

She put her plan into action and placed Constable Jones in the morning room from where he should be able to see everyone arrive.

Audrey had just sat back down in the morning room when the doorbell rang again.

Alice announced Sir Alfred who followed her in, still looking quite sheepish.

“Alf, if you would be so kind as to sit here next to me. You’re the first to arrive.”

Sir Alfred manoeuvred across the room with his cane. He was smartly dressed, with his dark grey suit. She hadn’t really noticed much until now, but he had a distinctive walk. He was slightly hunched over and walked with a rolling gait, possibly caused by arthritic trouble, but it looked almost like the walk of someone who’d spent their life at sea and had to adjust to the movement of a ship. That wasn’t the case of course. Sir Alfred had spent his life working in police and achieved the rank of Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan police.

Sir Alfred lowered himself onto the sofa next to her with an audible gasp.

At exactly Four thirty the doorbell rang and Alice announced the arrival of Lord Halifax. He wore a very formal black suit and had a dour expression on his face.

“Now, Lady Patterson, I would be grateful if you could explain why you have invited me. You mentioned having acquired something?”

“Oh, please don’t let’s be in too much of a hurry. We can at least be civil. I have ordered some tea and there is one more person left to arrive. Please take a seat.”

Audrey indicated a chair by the window, which Lord Halifax lowered himself into. He was older than her, about the same age as Sir Alfred, but he seemed more agile for his age. He sat bolt upright in the chair.

Alice brought in the sandwiches and began serving the tea. There was no point in waiting any longer.

Nearly the End


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 28/August/2018







A Withered Blossom – A Murder Mystery Continues

I started writing a murder mystery some time ago, this is the next instalment.

See here for the previous story in the chain.



A Withered Blossom

Sir Alfred Thorpe had pulled a few strings and managed to arrange an interview with Police Constable Jones. Constable Jones had a regular beat that incorporated Lorrimer Park Crescent, its surrounding streets and the small park itself. Lady Audrey Patterson lived on that particular street and it was her maid, Elsie, who was found murdered in the park one morning a couple of weeks before.

The official enquiry had not uncovered anything at all. There had been no witnesses and so the case had gone cold.

Continue reading A Withered Blossom – A Murder Mystery Continues

The Start of It – A short story, with familiar characters.







Today’s things are: admire, loyal, fireplace

The Start of It.

Audrey Patterson hated wearing black. It was such an unbecoming colour, especially on the old. When she was younger, then it had looked fine on her tall frame, with diamonds sparkling around her neck. That had been during the Roaring Twenties and she had been young enough to get away with it. Now black made her old pale skin look even older. She’d had to wear these dreary clothes though. It didn’t do to wear any other colour at a funeral, especially one of an old friend like Claudia Halifax. People would think she was being callous if she’d worn a brighter colour.

She was very sad to lose her friend. Although Claudia was younger than her and had lived a more carefree existence with her entourage of young men she liked to keep about her, she had admired her a lot.

Continue reading The Start of It – A short story, with familiar characters.

Death of a Notable – Murder Mystery. AN EPILOGUE.


Mrs Audrey Patterson reclined deep in thought in her simply furnished living room. The dark solid parquet floor was covered with a Persian rug in colours of blue and green. The large padded sofa was upholstered in a dark green material, that matched the velvet curtains on the bay window that was letting in the light of the afternoon sun. It was her favourite place to come and read a book or have a good think. A well-worn copy of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express lay abandoned for the time being on the sofa next to her as she stretched out. Curled up beside her was her black and white tomcat, Sherlock. Audrey Patterson was gently stroking her cat and looking off into the far-off distance. Anyone who knew her would know her to be loquacious in the extreme. She only stopped talking during those rare moments when she was sleeping, eating or thinking. She kept going over and over in her head about the events that had happened the week before. The death of that young scientist, Dr Lancaster, still loomed largely in her mind. Of course, she had been spoken to by those rather intimidating young men. They had always been polite, but they still had an air of menace about them and the way they managed to force their way into the house still made her shiver. They had used all of those nice phrases, ‘a patriotic love of one’s own country’ and ‘a sense of national pride at carrying out an important duty’. It had all boiled down to one thing. She was to keep her mouth shut, or else. They had suggested that her husbands career as a top scientist working for the government, would be in jeopardy if she didn’t agree to their proposal. He had worked so hard to attain his current position, and to provide this lovely house and lifestyle, she couldn’t put that in danger. She loved him too much to bring him any harm. So, she had agreed. She wasn’t at all happy about it though. Justice mattered to her too much to be put so easily aside. The more she thought about it, the more she thought that ‘His Majesty’s secret service’ had missed something. Something vitally important.

Continue reading Death of a Notable – Murder Mystery. AN EPILOGUE.