Massacre at Market Middling - The Eleventh An ty Boisjo ly Mystery - Chapter One - Roses Are Red When They’re Not Dead Violets are Blue Unless They Are Too

Jul 30, 2026

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A murder mystery unfolds in the quaint village of Market Middling during the 1929 First Bloom Flower Show, where a shocking announcement of mass killings upends the calm routine of a church basement event. The story follows a reluctant, wry narrator drawn into adjudication and sudden danger, as the assembled community rushes to the greenhouse market to confront the carnage. With blame circulating and local gossip driving suspicion, the investigation begins amid satirical hospitality, pointed warnings, and a clear sense that the killer’s motive is already known to those who matter most.

LanguageEnglish

CategoryStory & Novel

FormatPDF

Pages164

Reading Time4 h 13 min

Chapter One

Roses Are Red When They’re Not Dead

Violets are Blue Unless They Are Too

Massacre at Market Middling The Eleventh An ty Boisjo ly Mystery Copyright 2026 PJ Fitzsimmons. All Rights Reserved. [OceanofPDF.com](OceanofPDF.com) CHAPTER ONE Roses Are Red When They’re Not Dead Violets are Blue Unless They Are Too “IT’SA MASSACRE—EVERYONE’S BEEN KILLED!” This announcement, for reasons which will be presently revealed, came to me as a tremendous relief. I had been bunkoed by means I’m far too gentlemanly to characterise as ‘devious’ into judging—of the nearly infinite list of skirmishes of which I’m ill-suited to mediate — a flower show, and was in the instant in the basement of the church of St Mary-of-the-chipping-plaster balancing a cup of cool criminal intent on my knee and, I like to imagine, an engaged smile on my dial while the vicar walked us through the dense protocols of the Big Day. “Mister Boyjoloy…” the vicar of Market Middling, the Reverend Linus Beamish, had yet to pronounce my name twice the same way but‘Boyjoloy’ was the nearest shave he’d yet had to Boisjoly, which slips easily off London tongues as ‘Beaujolais’, like the wine region, “...will open the 1929 Market Middling First Bloom Flower Show with a few words steeped, no doubt, in his rich experience of horticulture in London ” As Vicar Beamish, a compact, clean-shaven, cardigan of a parson, implied that ‘London’ afforded me insights into Queen Mary’s private methods for discouraging aphids, I fancied that the core of the honest provincials present almost certainly had rose bushes older than my twentynine years and gurgling grandchildren with far greater experience of horticulture. In the main, the stale-biscuit, church-basement enthusiasts on the day were happily attentive, sun-dried lovies, knitting or itching for a smoke, in sunday frocks and chequered suits and an impenetrable cordon of camphor. In contrast to this and an ironic longshot flutter at fitting in, I’dkitted myself out from head-to-hobnail in riding tweeds with leather patched elbows which combined with my choir boy features and permanently astonished eyebrows to give the impression of a cub reporter, covering the event for the Berkshire Barn and Bucket. “I should like to remind you ladies, and many of the gentlemen, that Mister Bollyjolly is a seasoned adjudicator…” Vicar Beamish continued to test the frontiers of false witnessing,“...and he won’t be swayed by bribery nor menaces. We don’t any of us want a repeat of last year ’s regrettable events…” The minister passed a censorious, old testament glower over the assembly, all of whom chose that moment to count the floorboards or drop a stitch, apart from the constable, who hitched up his belt and gave me a reassuring nod. “Please remember that all proceeds of the flower show go to the church roof repair fund, and if you haven’t paid your registration and potting fee and your share of the greenhouse hire, to see my wife after the meeting.” The vicar spread a beneficent smile upon us all, with most of it landing on me as a quiet reminder—not his first—that the fee structure applied equally to judges.“And now perhaps Mister Boiledjelly would like to say a few words before we open the floor to questions…” I was already on my feet and about to correct the record regarding my notorious amenability to even trivial bribes and all manner of threat, when the welcome clatter of someone skiing down wooden stairs in footwear unsuited to the sport (leather-soled Brogues, for the record, are ideal) interrupted the proceedings and the door clacked open. The tall, handsome woman who for the moment I’d been thinking of as Mrs Vicar supported herself on the door jamb to recover her breath, blink wide, startled eyes, and issue the aforementioned stunning revelation regarding every single candidate in the flower show. We rapidly organised ourselves into an angry mob and left the church basement and rabbled our way up the only street of the impossibly twee little village of Market Middling to Middling Mark

FAQs

What triggers the chaos at Market Middling?

An urgent announcement reveals that a massacre has occurred, causing immediate alarm and a frantic reaction from everyone present.

Where does the story move after the church meeting?

The group rushes from the church basement to Middling Market, the glass-covered greenhouse conservatory where the flower show is held.

Why does suspicion spread so quickly among the villagers?

Local rivalries and established gossip networks quickly point to a known troublemaker, and the narrator recognizes both who they mean and why.

Jul 30, 2026

Upload by Noah