The Murderer Walkthrough

(Michael Zerbo (independent developer), 2001)

22 June 2003

AT DEATH’S DOOR

My name is not Robert Weatheringham, though that is how I have been addressed these last forty years. Now that I lie on my deathbed, I know the time approaches when I must face my Creator and the shadowy events of a time long ago in England. That of which I write is a tale of misfortune and betrayal of trust with which I have coexisted out of necessity only. I realize I must hurry to make my confession before the hour of the reaper arrives. God forgive me for the evil I undertook as a way of escaping a crime I did not commit…

THE ESTATE

Back then, I was Charles Browning, earnestly employed as personal servant to one Robert Harris, an aristocrat living in London with his wife and daughter, Alice. Until that day, I served my family well, never falling prey to theft, sloth, or ill thoughts for my master. Despite my diligence and earnestness, though, this day, through no fault of my own, the direction of my life altered unavoidably because of one man. I still cannot bear to say the name, Jim Devlin aloud, even as my hour grows near.

After overseeing the state of the gardens one day, I had cause to return to my master’s study. I replaced the used candle with a fresh one, storing the old one in my pocket for when I needed to enter the cellar-Mr. Harris abhorred waste. Mr. Harris was in the sitting room, dressed sternly in black, with a handsome bowler hat, clearly ready to go out but I could sense an agitation about him. He asked me to inform his wife that it was nearing the hour of their departure to the theater, an outing that had declined in frequency since the birth of their daughter five years ago. I left the house, passed through the gardens, to the sounds of gay voices. Mrs. Harris, Alice, and Harold the family golden retriever pup. Mrs. Harris, having completely forgotten about the occasion, became quite anxious when Alice refused to budge. But how to coax her inside?

I returned to the flowers and thence to a pond garden. There I picked a strawberry, Alice’s favorite fruit, and a mushroom to sample later. On my return to the Harrises, I inadvertently dropped the mushroom, which Harold promptly gnawed and buried as he would a bone. Alice enjoyed her strawberry and agreed to follow me inside once the prospect of more strawberries waiting within the house was revealed.

The Harrises went out to the concert without further incident. Dutifully, I locked all the doors and windows and tucked the children into bed. The next day must surely be described as the lowest point in my life. I checked on Alice, who had not risen by the time I alighted from bed. But, her bed was empty! Only then, did I notice the bloody corpse of little Alice. Jim Devlin had acted on his cowardly threat to harm Alice!

I heard the sounds of the scullery maid approaching and, thinking only of saving my own wretched self, picked up Alice’s body. I escaped before being seen, fleeing down backroads and unused paths to the beach.

THE COAST

From high above, I scanned the beach from the cliff. When I was certain it was empty of people, I carried the body down to the beach awash with driftwood. Burying the body immediately came to mind but my knowledge of tides told me that the body would be discovered within hours. Lighting the candle, I entered a dark cave and secreted Alice’s precious, lifeless body. This would suffice for a short period of time but eventually, the body would be found by animals, drawn to it by the stench of death.

I walked to the outskirts of the city, hailed a passing hansom cab to a church.

THE CHURCH

Entering the church, I sought solace from our Heavenly Power. A kindly couple, sensing the distress I was in, gave me a few pence for a meal. I left the church, hailed another hansom to my friend Joe, a local butcher.

JOE, THE BUTCHER

I told Joe the truth about he recent events. He offered to help me in any way he could. My mind was hatching a diabolical plan. I left the butcher and traveled to a local tavern.

THE TAVERN

I entered the tavern, spotted a fancy woman that I anticipated might have knowledge of the whereabouts of Jim Devlin. Seeing I did make any perfunctory offerings, she in no uncertain terms advised me to leave. I left the tavern and walked up the road to a flower seller.

The sickly flower lady offered me the best flower she had in exchange for a few pence. I thanked her and returned to the tavern.

The fancy woman’s expression changed when I proffered the flower. She asked that I buy her a drink. Realizing that she might hold knowledge of Jim Devlin, shirking my feelings of embarrassment, I bought her ale with a few pence I had to loosen her tongue. The woman recalled the name Jim Devlin but vaguely, wondering if two of her ladies, Susan and Natasha, may have had dealings with him at the Cornwell Estate. Sensing I was in trouble with the law, she told me to return when I needed safe passage on a ship. Thanking her for her help, I left the tavern.

A gentleman outside reading a newspaper rued a decline in the quality of journalistic endeavor in the day’s news-I suspected I knew of which grisly news he was referring. I offered a few pence in exchange for the newspaper (the very last of my benefactors’ generous donations).

Fortunately, the hansom driver I hailed recognized me and offered to ferry me for free to the Cornwell Estate.

CORNWELL ESTATE

True to the lady of the night’s words, Natasha and Susan were indeed at the Cornwell Estate. Both denied knowing Jim Devlin, though Susan, I thought (in the words of the Bard) doth protest too much. Knowing I would get no further tidbits of information, I did as they asked and left.

I traveled back to the coast, aware of the evil action that I must perform to ensure my own survival.

THE COAST

I hurried down to the cave, retched twice and proceeded with my evil deed. I picked Alice’s delicate body up and wrapped her up in the spread newspaper, tears welling in my eyes as I remembered the once undefiled Alice. I skulked back to my friend Joe, the butcher.

JOE, THE BUTCHER

Sighting me with a package wrapped in newspaper, Joe guessed I had brought him a gift. He was correct in his assumption that the package was for him, but only I in my madness could have hatched the diabolical plan I discussed with him. He nodded in a few short moments as the realization of my request washed over him like a thick London pea souper. He then revealed that he was no stranger to assisting people in this way, having performed such a terrible duty on one occasion before to assist his cousin in a similar plight.

An hour later he returned with sausages, a grisly and gristly reminder that where I had once been innocent, I was now little better than Jim Devlin. I knew then that there was no way for me to continue living in London. I would have to leave as soon as I had found and dealt with Jim Devlin.

I picked up the wretched sausages and a piece of meat when Joe left the room to rest upstairs. Noting a large iron key behind the counter, my interest was piqued. I used the key to unlock the storeroom and was greeted by a sight I did not expect to see until the day that I am cast down to Hell: dead animal parts assailed my eyes and the stench of rotting flesh assaulted my nostrils. Driven by some subhuman force, I collected two of the animal heads and left the butcher.

I went back to Cornwell House to question Natasha and Susan further.

CORNWELL HOUSE

At the estate, alas there was no sign of the two fancy ladies. I placed the two animal heads at the front door of the estate and left, knowing they would be threatened by this. I returned shortly thereafter and found an altogether different Susan to the one that I had met earlier. She admitted knowing Jim Devlin but broke off her relations with him when he revealed his plan to harm Alice. She informed me of the address of his abode in the seaport. Without further haste, I sped to meet the villain.

THE SEAPORT

An old man with a vicious dog barred the entrance to Jim Devlin’s building. The man warned me to be on my way. Armed as he was with a stick, I knew I could not pass until I had availed him of his dog and stick. I tossed the sausages and then the piece of meat. The dog bounded down the cobbled lane with the meat, his irate old owner yelling and running like a wild banshee after him.

I knocked on the door to the building several time, angry, pummeling knocks that were met without answer. Hearing noises from within, I took five paces back, running full force at the door, breaking the lock and hurling the door wide open. I entered the building, coming face to face with the Devil himself, Jim Devlin. He pulled a revolver after an instant of surprise. Fortunately, I was more fleet of foot and reached him before he could aim properly at me. We struggled for brief moments. In the ensuing chaos, the revolver discharged and Jim Devlin fell to the floor, dead from a wound to his chest.

Now, officially a murderer in the eyes of my Lord, I arranged the room to give the false impression of a suicide. From Jim Devlin’s body I retrieved a gold coin, surely enough to ensure passage on a ship. From the evidence in his room, it was obvious that his plan was one of ransom, not murder. The evidence in the room would unequivocally implicate him once I had moved it to an obvious place, but unfortunately there was no way to rectify the wrongs I had committed. I left for the port.

Speaking with a weathered captain in the port, he refused me passage even with the temptation of gold. I remembered the words of the fancy lady in the tavern, so returned there.

THE TAVERN

Lady luck smiled on me this day, for the fancy lady was still there. Offering the gold coin to her and explaining my fruitless deliberation with the ship captain, I wondered aloud whether another form of persuasion might change his inflexibility. She gave me an address for a lady who would assist me. I returned to the seaport once again.

THE SEAPORT

I spoke with a pretty young lady who offered to distract the captain long enough for me to sneak aboard his ship. I thanked her, wondering how this lady came to be caught up in work not suited for a lady and returned to the port. That day I left for America, I turned my back on London and my mother England, never to return. That day I also turned my back on both humanity and God. That day was the day that I discovered that Jim Devlin was not the only source of evil-never to be consolable again now that I was the murderer…

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