Something Rotton

"Act Three," the voice of the narrator rang out.

Hamelton tensed up.  He was ready to find out who killed his father.

The lights went out.

There was a confused muttering.

"What's going on?" Hamelton whispered to his mother.  Except his mother wast there.  "Mom?" Hamelton softly called out, getting worried.

Suddenly a spotlight shone down onto the middle of the stage.  In it stood his mother.

"No one is here to watch Shakespear," she said.  "Who likes that stuff anyway.  You are all here to find out who killed my late husband.  Was it Claude, the devious undle, who inherited the powerplant?  Was it Medelson, the lawyer who reeped millions from legal fees?  Did olivia in her passion for wildlife murder him in cold blood?  Or was it Pord, who never ceases to expand his walth and power?  I have come to hell you the answer, to reveal the truth.  It was--"

A shockingly loud bloom-bloom-bloom of his fathers old .45 magnum blossumed across the hall.  His mother was knocked off the stage in a red mist.

Hamelton turned around to see who had done the deed.  Everyone else seemed to be standing still, his mothers body falling in slow motion.

All he could see at the back of the hall was a dirty trenchcoat sweeping out of a closing door.  The killer was trying to escape.  Everyone else was in shock, despiratly trying to process the past 3 seconds.   Hamelton rose from his chair and sprinted towards the exit.  Hamelton alone went after the man who had killed his mother with his father's own gun.

He came outside.  Across the street was the man in the trenchcoat, already dissappearing into the woods.  Hamelton continued after him.

Thoughts raced through his head after the initional rush was over.  Who was it?  It wasn't Olivia- she was too small.  It wasnt Claud- he was sitting right in front of Hamelton when it had happened, hadn't he?  Or had he gotten up to go to the bathroom?  Hamelton couldn't think. 

He would find out soon enough anyway.  The man wasnt as fast as Hamelton to begin with, and was already losing steam.  Hamelton could hear him weezing.  Could hear the killers last breaths.  Hamelton was going to kill him, kill the man who had taken away his last reamaining family memeber.

He could proactically grab the trenchcoat now.  He could see the dirt which coated it everywhere.  Hamelton made a final lunge, and tackled the murderer.  He crushed the man beneith him, he still couldnt see his face.  However, he could hear the man, could hear the bloody coughing between the weezes.  And earily firmiliar mix of flim and blood being dredged from the back of the throat.  With an impeding sense of dread, Hamelton rolled the frail body over.

It was his father.

"WHAT?" Hamelton yelled, "What?"

"Hamelton?" his dad said.  "Hamelton, listen to me."  He coughed again, worse this time.  It sounded like he was dying.  "Your mother tried to kill me, tried to take the powerplant from me.  She buried me alive, in this very trenchcoat.   Apparently, the poisin wasn't working fast enough for her."

"What?" Hamelton said again.  His world was being overturned, he wasnt much for deep responces.

"She wanted to take the powerplant from me," his father repeated, "but she realized that my death would put her under too much suspicion.  So she seduced you idiot uncle to make him the prime suspect, to make it seem like he was the one who gained from the whole affair.  She was about to accuse him of being the killer tonight.  No one could have argued with her, her plan was flawless.  She had it all set up.  I couldnt let her get away with almost killing me and sending my brother to a lifetime in jail."

Coughs raked his body.

"I did what I had to do."