The Contessa entered the parlor, oblivious to the gentlemen sitting in her family's antique chairs. She was preoccupied about family business.
"Whom are you?" she said, grammatically incorrectly, to the strangers.
"We're police detectives, ma'am," said the one who looked & smelled like sausage.
"The constabulary?" she said, aghast. "Why would you have been called?"
"It appears," said the mousey one, looking at a notebook, "there was a complaint last night, about," he flipped a few pages, "screams of agony & shrieks as if from hell itself."
"Well," the Contessa said, "we did have some friends over."
"Ah," said Sausage-Man, "& where are your friends now?"
"They have retired to their quarters," sniffed the Contessa. "But of course the shrieks were from the murdered people."
"Murdered?" the two detectives asked, almost simultaneously.
"Yes, murdered," the Contessa said, "naturally. They were killed in the ceremony, & consumed afterwards."
"Consumed?" said the Mouse. "You mean, eaten?"
"Oh," the Contessa said, with a weary gesture, "it was the same old ritual. Kill the strangers, feast on their flesh." She gave them both a knowing look. "It was a
Thursday, for Pete's sake!"
"Ma'am," Sausage said, "are you admitting to a crime?"
The Contessa looked at him blankly.
"I mean to say," Sausage corrected himself, tugging uncomfortably at his collar, "are you saying you killed someone here?"
"Oh! Heavens no!" she said, to the relief of the two obviously distraught policemen. "No, we have the help do that. Oh Jenkins!"
A stiff butler type appeared, almost magically, from behind an unseen door. His chin high, he seemed incapable of holding his head any other way. "Ma'am?" he said.
"Please tell these awful man about the people you killed," she told him.
"Indeed," he said. He turned to the baffled lawmen. "During the ceremony I murdered an alcoholic drifter, as well as the rebellious teenage daughter of one of Madame's chambermaids."
Sausage turned to Mouse. They shrugged their shoulders in turn.
"Ah," said Mouse. "How - how did you murder them?"
"Poison," said the butler. "In their food." He paused, thoughtfully, & turned to his mistress. "It would not have stayed in the portions of them that you would consume, Madame," he said.
"Good, good," said the Contessa.
"What the fuck?" said the Sausage.
"Yes, yes," said the Contessa, "take him away, hang him, he's a menace to our community, all that, now, please, do not tarry in my family's antique chairs any longer!" & she fanned herself as she made her way to the front room.
"I plead guilty to all charges," said the butler, half-heartedly holding his hands out to be cuffed.
"Um," the Mouse said to the Sausage. "Can we - uh - can we see the bodies?"
"Or what's left of them?" said the Sausage to the butler.
"Certainly, sir," said the butler, "right this way." He paused, appearing to think something over, "other remains might appear in some of our guests' leavings."
The Mouse threw up on a family heirloom.
"C'mon," said the Sausage. "Get yourself together."
"Rich people," the Mouse choked.
"Rich people," the Sausage agreed. "Am I right?"
