The Magnificent Mansion

Hey! So I've decided to go back to an old book I was writing and do some touch ups and repost! So here is the first chapter of a book I've started writing called the "Magnificent Mansion". This is a murder mystery with the main character Jacque Leferre who is a famous French private detective that is dragged into a party which will result in the a dead body. But who's? And why? And how does the mob have anything to do with all of this? Read and find out . You may notice that all my characters that I ever write about are either perfect in everything, insane, or extremely melodramatic. So really, because of the feel of this story, all of the people are really suppose to be read as melodramatic and over the top. Finally, for all you non- french speakers out there lemme give you some quick translations:

Monsieur- Sir

Madame- Married Women, so like our Mrs.

Mademoiselle- Un- married women. Ms.

Oui- Yes. Pronounced "wi"

Merci- Thankyou.


Jacque Leferre roamed around the museum and it’s newest collection of Louis Leroy. The Museum, to say the least, was a spectacular sight to see. It’s majestic curtains hung down as if to be frowning, and each silken, sad, uncertain rustling of the purple curtains crept out as if to snatch some innocent child in its clutches. Mr. Leroy is a painter that had somehow managed instant fame from his beautiful watercolors. They were graceful, in their own way; each streak of paint defined itself in the mixtures of colorful explosion that had seemed to attack the viewer’s eye. While strolling around the museum Jacque had started up a conversation with some girl who her name he had already forgotten.

Jacque was in his mid thirties. He was an unusually lanky person who often towered over his suspects; all 6 feet and 6 inches of him often intimidated people. He was, of course, a private detective that was popularly sought out by the little people who were too timid to go to the police. He was born in France in 1917 where his mother and father died young, so he decided to move to England in 1939. He wore and white suit with a bowtie, but his most unusual feature was his nose that had always stuck out from his face at an unusual length, peaking out from underneath his eyes as if it was trying to detach itself from his face and run away. Everything about Jacque seemed as if he had been stretched like taffy.

Jacque looked up, ignoring the woman who was rambling on about how splendidly executed the paintings are. He had long stopped listening, tired of pretending to being pleased and impressed. He wrinkled his nose from the stink of the alcohol whenever the lady leaned on him, she was obviously drunk. Jacque observed the painting wondering how long it took to create such an extravagant piece. A waiter walked by carrying Champaign and he gently grabbed a glass.

“Am I boring you Mr. Leferre?” the woman said breaking Jacque’s daydream. “I was telling you what I thought of this truly magnificent piece of work,” she said with a somewhat lazy wave of her hand gesturing to the art in front of her.

“Oh no, no, no madam. Not at all, It’s just I, myself was admiring the very same thing” Jacque said in a thick French accent. Despite all his time as a detective and being able to talk any amount of information out of the criminal, he still couldn’t manage to save himself from a conversation with some drunken woman who most likely doesn’t even know what she herself is saying.

“Admiring it! I think it’s absolutely dismal! It looks like someone threw up on it I say” Jacque threw back his head in surprise; he leaned and squinted at the watercolor. It was rightfully named “Eruption” because it showed a tree bending over and splitting to let out a burst of light, a single bunny that sat was observing it all lonely on the hill. Jacque had thought it was wonderfully represented; the mix of colors beamed out and gleamed like a star.

Then a nearly inaudible voice came from out the crowd “Luuucccy!” The woman whom Jacque was talking to turned “Coming dear!” she turned to Jacque “It truly was a pleasure Mr. Leferre.”

            “Merci” Jacque said and politely bowed his head. She took her hands in his and then turned to leave. Jacque frowned as he found his white gloves now damp from the woman’s sweaty hands; he took out his handkerchief and wiped his gloves. At least she is gone, he thought. Jacque took a sip of his Champaign and frowned, a very bad year.

“Ah, Mr. Leferre, so glad you could make it” an unknown voice came from behind Jacque who calmly turned around to face his perpetrator who had actually pronounced his name wrong. He said Ler-fer-y, one of Jacque’s many pet peeves but he held his tongue.

“Luh-Fair” Jacque corrected the stranger. “What a pleasure” Jacque tipped his hat in respect. The stranger smiled and stood next to Jacque and followed his gaze to the “Eruption” painting. He was almost as tall as Jacque himself at about 6 foot 3 inches, he wore a suit and tie with many varieties of jewels and rings on his fingers. Despite his height he was very wide man, he had a very round face and large body. Not quite fat but very well taken care of, he looked in his late forties and took out a cigar. He took a great inhail and puffed out a small smoke cloud. 

“Should I be worried that you’re here? Mr. Luh-Fair” putting an emphasis on the “Fair” part of his name. “Is there going to be a bullet in someone’s head and the police are just waiting to descend upon the place?”

“Oh, no, no, no, monsieur. I am here on my own personal pleasure” The large man smiled and took another deep inhale of his cigar and then blew the smoke threw his nose.

“I don’t believe we have properly introduced, I am Louis Leroy” He raised an eyebrow and turned to Jacque.

“Ah. Monsieur Leroy, I am delighted to see you. Your work is most impressive.”

“Thank you, thank you. Well, Mr. Leferre, I was curious if you could tell me I was actually hoping that you would accept an invitation” He stuck his cigar in his mouth and blew smoke in Jacque’s frowning face. He coughed and waved the smoke away.

“Invitation monsieur?”

“Yes, yes quite. There will be a party at my house. Only... select guest are allowed. Tomorrow afternoon if you wish to come”

“Ah, monsieur I am most sorry but I happen to be busy that night”

“I insist Mr. Leferre. I do not take well to people refusing my acts of great generosity” He gave a deathly grin. Jacque pursed his lips and considered his options.

“Ah monsieur, merci. I believe that I can make some time to come”

“A wise choice Mr. Leferre. I will see you at 5:00”. He took another puff of his cigar and then walked away.

“Oui monsieur, oui” Jacque raised his eyebrow staring suspiciously at Mr. Leroy walking away with certainty.

“Mr. Leferre! The Mr. Leferre!?” Jacque swung around to come face to face with a small lady take a sip from her cocktail, well everyone seemed small to Jacque. She was around 5’ 9” and wore an elegant black dress sparkling whenever she moved. She had short dark hair that she let lay loose and hang at her shoulders. She waddled forward to say the least, how she moved in those 4” heels was beyond Jacque. “Oh Mr. Leferre it’s truly a pleasure, I here about you all the time in the newspapers.”

“I’m sorry madamemoiselle…”

“I’m married” She grinned and waved a bony finger up showing her large ruby ring.
“Ah, Madame. I don’t believe we have met”

“Oh no of course, how stupid I am” she flashed a wide smile “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Cubilla Black. The cinematographer.”

“Oh yes I remember reading about you, I do truly admire your work. It is most impressive.” Jacque gave her a quick wink.

“Yes thank you, I set up most of the portraits for these pictures. Mr. Leroy just did the drawings”

“Really Madame?”

“Yes, really. Although I really shouldn’t be here.” Cubilla frowned.

“Ah Madame why?” Jacque eyed her skeptically.

“Well… Mr. Leroy fired me rather recently. He kind of lost his rag when…”

“Ah, pardon, the ‘lost his rag’ what do you mean” Jacque furrowed his brow.

“Oh, excuse me” She let out a squeaky laugh “like to loose one’s temper. He was in a rage two weeks ago. Something about what was in the paper. About the mob’s and all, why it sounds absolutely dreadful” She took another sip of her glass “Anyways two weeks ago there was the robbing of the bank, it was all over the news papers. The police tried to take two of the five guys who robbed the bank into custody, but ended up killing them instead. How ghastly, yes ghastly indeed. But Mr. Leroy got himself all up in a fuss that afternoon because a major portion of his money was in that bank I suppose.” She took a large gulp, finishing her cocktail and looked around for another.

“Suppose Madame? You mean you don’t know for sure?” Jacque inquired.

“Well no, not exactly I mean it seems most certainly the most likely but im not certain.”

“What makes you not certain?”

“Well that very same day Mr. Leroy gets a call. He was yelling and screaming. Said something ‘this is unacceptable! I want my money and I want it now! What? Don’t tell me about your damn share I DON’T CARE!’ and with that he stormed out. Well just about everyone in the whole mansion heard him screaming so the next day he fired everyone.”

“Everyone Madame?” Jacque threw his head back in shock.

“Yes every one. Down to the last scullery maid, well it probably didn’t mean anything to him, I mean he had so much money even after the robbery he could buy half of England if its not to bold in my saying so.” She pinpointed another cocktail and threw herself towards it, snatching it out of the waitress’s hand that was going to deliver it to another guest. The waitress shrieked and almost dropped the trey she was holding. 

“Merciful Heavens! Control yourself!” The waitressed wailed “Alcohols will betray all your secrets you know!” She stormed off melodramatically muttering about what woman will do for alcohol.

Cubilla fixed her out of place hair and turned to Jacque breathing hard. “Well pardon me. Please excuse me I do have to go powder my nose”

“Oui Madame. Oui”