Confess to something

Lieutenant Marble stared at the guests in the living room. Every last one of them looked guilty. There was the society matron with the 32-carat diamond necklace sitting on the edge of the sofa, clutching her knees so he couldn't see her nervous twitching. The colonel with a pipe in his mouth, pretending nonchalance, stood behind the left highback chair the debutante with big tits and blonde hair was hiding in -- or at least she was trying to conceal her guilty conscience from the lieutenant, Marble thought. Opposite the dishy deb sat the professor, concealing his bespectacled eyes by focusing on his book, Guilty Pleasures for Made-up Characters. The host of the evening couldn't sit still, nervously pacing left to right, side to side across the room, scratching his gray beard and coming his hair back every five minutes with his wrinkled hand. The hefty, round widow rounded out the group, sitting on the sofa next to the society maton and stealing furtive glances at the other five and Lieutenant Marble.

"I think I've pieced together all the clues the six of you have left behind. We know the butler died in the pantry. We know there was a terrible amount of blood all over everything. The rows of Proctor & Gamble cereals, Del Monte green beans, Dole pineapples, and Dutch Boy paint samples were drenched. He had a gaping wound in the center of the chest and both hands were clutching his groin, as if he had been sexually molested."

At this one of the matrons on the sofa squeaked out a high-pitched harumph. Marble couldn't be sure which it was -- Mrs. Peacock or Mrs. White.

"We know what that means -- it was done with the knife in the pantry. But who done it? Which one of your infernal creations done him in?"

The debutante stood up and pointed at the host. "It was Mr. Green! He's the only one who had a motive! The butler was about to expose the affair Green was having with --"

A shot rang out and Miss Scarlet lurched forward. Colonel Mustard raced around the chair to catch her falling body -- dead as a doornail, he said. "Mrs. Peacock! That's who Green had the affair with! And the butler was blackmailing --"

The colonel stood directly under the crystal chandelier. Without warning it cracked the ceiling and fell on Mustard and killed him instantly, but not before Green tried to pull him out of the way and got killed himself. Lieutenant Marble surveyed the remaining three. "Well, ladies and genteman," he said to the Mrs. Peacock, Mrs. White, and Professor Plum. "One of you done the butler in."

"Well, don't look at me --" Professor Plum added.

"Don't look at me either --" Mrs. White intoned.

"It ain't me!" Mrs. Peacock stated in her emphatic staccato.

"I think I've got it all figured out now. But it's not from anything any of you has said. The butler has told me everything --"

Mrs. Peacock demurred. "How? You yourself said it was a surprise."

"Ah, my dear Mrs. Peacock, it was a surprise -- for the murderer. The butler was clutching his crotch after all. That can mean only one thing."

"What could that be?"

"His crotch has a penis. A pee-pee. Professor Plum! It was Professor Plum in the pantry wity the knife!"

He confessed. Marble won the game.