the accordian player

.

A crowded street. People passed by hardly aware of the busker performing in the shop doorway. Suddenly the piano accordion player slumped forward. As he fell a flash of light bounced off a steel blade protruding from his back and in seconds his white shirt blushed blood red.

He collapsed in a heap like a puppet with broken strings, the instrument beneath him emitting a wheezing breathless groan.

As the curtains swept across the stage the audience remained silent for a second or two before erupting in spontaneous applause. It was the interval and they made their way to the gilded bar where glasses clinked and chandeliers sparkled; a roomful of amateur sleuths each with their own idea of who committed that dastardly deed. The shrill bell rang time, and they made their back to their seats to await the outcome of this grisly tale.

Was it the man with the dog or the boy in the hoodie? Could it have been the lady in dark glasses or the beggar with the white stick? In thirty minutes or so, they all would know the answer.

*

The audience left the warmth of the auditorium for the chill of the night outside. In a doorway opposite the theatre, an accordion player squeezed a jolly tune. He suddenly stopped and the crowd turned and stared.