The Mystery at Mistryville


The Mystery at Mistryville
A mystery story

There was a small town called Mistryville.  It was a quiet town, and all the inhabitants of it were happy.  They had no problems, none whatsoever.  Well, that is, except for the unsolved murders which occurred with disturbing regularity.  Hardly a day went by without someone turning up dead.  The police department worked hard to solve these murders, but they were unable to track down the killer.
 
Some had died by gunshot.  Others had been stabbed.  A few had been poisoned.  But the detectives could find no clues.
 
No one, however, was worried, since none of those still living had been murdered.  Everybody was just glad to be alive.  “I sure hope the murders have stopped,” a guy named Charlie said.  “If not, I hope I’m not next.”
 
But he was, and the next day, Charlie was found dead, murdered.
 
Then the next day, a guy named Joe heard a knock at his door.  He feared that it might be the killer, but he opened the door anyway.  There was a gunshot, and Joe fell to the floor, dying.  “No,” he gasped.  “I never thought it would be you.  But you are.  You’re the one who’s been killing everybody.  Well, at least now I know.  I won’t have to wonder anymore.”  Then he died.
 
And so it continued for many months.  Finally, one day, there were only two people left alive in Mistryville.  They were Joe (no, not that Joe, another Joe) and Fred.
 
So another Joe decided to go to Fred’s house and talk it over.  He knocked on the door, and Fred opened it.  “What is it?” Fred asked.  He seemed a bit nervous, the way a murderer might, if he were under suspicion.
 
Another Joe said, “Fred, could I come inside and talk to you for a while?  Something is bothering me.”
 
“Sure, another Joe,” Fred replied.  “Come inside.  Have a seat.  Can I offer you something to drink?”
 
“No, thanks,” another Joe said.  “Fred, I’m getting worried.  Have you heard about all the unsolved murders that have been going on for the last few years?”
 
Fred replied, “Well, I used to hear about them, but then the police stopped investigating, and the news people stopped reporting on them.”
 
“Yes, I know,” another Joe said.  “But that’s because they all died.  They were all murdered.”
 
“I see.  How unfortunate.  So, another Joe, what brings you here?”
 
“Well,” another Joe said, “I was hoping that you and I could get together and solve this mystery before anyone else dies.  You know, since you and I are the only ones left, one of us might be next.  And if that happens, then the only person left alive in Mistryville would be the killer.”
 
“So, you figured that out, did you.  Do you have any ideas about whom it could be?”
 
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do,” another Joe said.
 
Fred nervously stood, and walked in a sinister manner toward his fireplace, above which he had on display several guns, knives, and a few bottles of poison.  “Who then?” Fred asked.
 
“Well,” another Joe said.  “I’ve narrowed it down to two people.  It’s one of us.”
 
“Hmm,” Fred said.  “That’s very clever.”
 
“Now,” another Joe said, “we just have to figure out which one of us it is.”
 
Fred replied, “Well, you don’t think it’s me, do you?”
 
“Oh no,” another Joe said.  “I don’t think you’re the kind of person who could do such things.  But that’s the problem.  It wasn’t me, either.  Yet, it just has to be one of us.”
 
The next day, there was only one person left alive in Mistryville.
 

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