On a cold and rainy November night, the members of the elite society of Montpelier, Vermont were invited to a posh dinner party. The first guest to arrive was a middle-aged man by the name of Howard Thatcher. Mr. Thatcher was the CEO of the biggest bank in town, and had the job passed down to him by his late father, Mr. Thatcher Sr. The banking industry of Montpelier, Vermont, had been dominated by the Thatchers for over 60 years.

The next guest to arrive was a younger man named Carter Brooks. Carter Brooks was a successful and strikingly handsome lawyer in town. Shortly after his arrival, a Mrs. Barbara Spring entered along with her friend, Ms. Arizona Rivera. Mrs. Rivera was dressed in a short and flashy red dress. When they arrived upon the doorstep of a large victorian mansion, they were greeted by the nervous young butler, Mr. Bell. He introduced himself, and his crazy looking eyes put the two women on edge. They were led from the front hall through a long hallway with a tall ceiling and stunning identical chandeliers above them. They entered the parlor and took their seats on a silky and comfortable couch opposite Mr. Thatcher. Mr. Thatcher looked at Mrs. Rivera with cruel and judging eyes, she was known throughout the town for being quite colorful and for always starting the more risky conversations. She was infamous for her outspoken and provocative nature, something the men of the town were not accustomed to. Most of the older side of the town, especially the upper class, like Mr. Thatcher, looked down upon individuals like Mrs. Rivera.

As time went on more, and more people arrived, including a Mr. Stephen Green, the town’s eye doctor and Mr. Elijah Williams, who happened to be Mr. Green’s ex-partner in his eye care practice. Mr. Williams had been publicly fired and humiliated by Mr. Green, after Mr. Williams was caught stealing the profits of the practice.He only escaped being jailed for embezzlement due to the fancy powerful lawyers his father had hired.

Mr. Williams rudely pushed past Mr. Green on his way into the parlor. The parlor was now nearly filled, with the additions of Clark Richardson the elderly town pharmacist, his wife Karen, and Nancy Watson, a woman in her mid-40’s, dressed in a conservative green dress. The last guest to arrive was Mrs. Kenna Jackson. She was led to the parlor by Mr. Bell, a young waiter. She wore a flattering black velvet off the shoulder dress and long satin white gloves. But it wasn’t the dress or Mrs. Jackson’s flawless complexion that caught the eyes of every man and woman in  the parlor, it was the gargantuan diamond on her neck. The amulet was nearly twice the size of her green eyes, and was held around her neck by small sapphires.

Mrs. Jackson had recently been married and widowed. She came into money when her parents had passed two years earlier, just before her twenty-second birthday. Her husband had been the wealthiest man in Montpelier, and likely Vermont. He’d died under bizarre circumstances months before and left his entire estate to his wife. They’d only married a year prior to his death. The necklace had been Mr. Jackson’s wedding gift to his wife.

With all eyes on her, Mrs. Jackson entered the parlor. She was pestered with questions; Mrs, Richardson jeered, “How many carats is it darling?” and Mrs. Watson uttered,“ It must be worth a fortune!”.  Mrs. Jackson despised the attention and sat between her dear friends, Mrs. Spring and Mrs. Rivera. She smiled smally at Mr. Green and Mr. Brooks, and looked around the parlor at the other guests, who’s eyes were still on her neck.

Shortly after that the guests were directed to the dining room by Mr. Bell. A large table had been set with name cards instructing the guests where to sit. Mrs. Jackson was sat in between Mr. Brooks and Mr. Green. Mrs. Rivera sat directly across from Mrs. Jackson, with Mrs. Spring and Mr. Williams on either side of her, so that Mr. Williams was across from Mr. Green. ‘Peculiar seating choices,’ Mrs. Jackson thought. She’d figured that any host would want Mr. Green and Mr. Williams as far from each other as possible. The two hated each other and were sure to cause problems. She wondered who the host was, and wished she had reread her invitation once more before leaving her home.

The other guests were seated elsewhere around the table.

Mr. Bell came around to pour wine for the guests. He made his way to Mrs. Jackson, and as he leaned to pour her drink her eyes followed as he ogled at her diamond necklace. She cleared her throat indicating that he’d been staring for maybe a little too long. She felt wildly uncomfortable by his darting eyes that would lock onto her necklace. She’d already caught him staring at it three separate times in the parlor. But she’d caught several others doing the same, and felt slightly more at ease. He shakily poured the dark liquid into her glass and her and Mrs. Rivera exchanged a glance. Mr. Bell nervously pulled back, causing him to spill onto himself. The guests could not refrain from letting small laughs escape their throats. Mr. Bell’s face turned the color of the wine and he quickly made his way around to the rest of the guests before rushing back into the safety of the kitchen.

As dinner dragged the guests began to grow bored of small talk and the same boring conversations about the weather and the other small town politics. Mrs. Richardson had used the ‘shocking’ a few too many times whilst talking about who was running for mayor. While she’d been talking, Mrs. Spring leaned across to Mrs. Jackson and joked, “More like shockingly boring”, and Mrs. Jackson felt it hard to quiet her laughter. Mr. Bell exited the kitchen every half an hour to replace the people’s plates with new ones, each time awkwardly making his way around, making some type of mistake each time. And each time he did it, it was followed by some laughter from the guests.

After the night grew to be more boring than Mrs. Jackson believed to be possible, the guests heard the weather grow worse. They heard rain crashing outside and wind gusting. And out of nowhere, the lights flickered off!

Gasps, screams, and chaos erupted all around the room!

Mrs. Jackson stood up from her chair and heard shuffling all around her. She suddenly felt a cold hand on her neck. She felt claw-like fingers digging into her skin, felt herself losing breath as her necklace tightened around her neck, choking her.

And suddenly she felt release but was jerked backwards by the force of it. The hand was no longer on her neck and she felt lighter in general. However, seconds later she felt someone rush by her knocking her to the floor. All around her she heard loud screams and angry yells wondering what was happening and  who had turned the lights off. She heard the doors to the thrust open and slam closed. The screaming continued as she found her way to her feet. People crazed by the fear of the darkness swirled all around her. She heard the doors open and close again and the lights returned.

She looked around her to see everyone in the room looking all around confused. “What happened?”, a guest shouted. “Someone turned off the lights!”another answered. This was followed by shouts wondering why and who would’ve done that.

This was followed finally by a voice of reason, “The storm must’ve cut the power,” said the handsome Carter Brooks. “I-it was that,” said Mr. Bell shakily and awkwardly, “I turned on the back up generator.”

Now that the ‘what happened’ thing had been figured out, the guests began to orient themselves, and looked all around the room at each other. Someone gasped, “Mrs. Jackson, your necklace!” All eyes turned to the young widow once again. She stood there, scratches all over her neck, the diamond was gone! Mrs. Jackson suddenly understood. The weight lifted off of her chest, the nails in her neck during the blackout, someone had ripped the diamond right from her necklace!

“Someone stole it!” she yelled fearfully.

All of the guests gathered around her.

“Are you alright?” Someone said. “Yes I’m fine,” she answered shakily, but she looked around the large room with caution. The room fell silent as the words ‘someone stole it’ sank in. They had a thief in their midst. “Well which one of you took it?” Mrs. Watson squawked at the crowd angrily.

“Shouldn’t we see if she’s really alright before we start making accusations?” Mrs. Spring bit back as her. She and Mrs. Rivera gathered around Mrs. Jackson. Mrs. Rivera reached out and held the empty pendant in her gloved hand. Deep red blood dripped from the necklace onto her red satin glove. She let the necklace go, making a face exclaiming her disdain, but also sympathy. “Where’s Mr. Green?” Mr. Richardson huffed, “He’s a doctor, he can take a look at these wounds.”

“He’s an eye doctor!” Mr. Williams barked back. “And those wounds are scratches, she’ll be fine.” Ignoring Mr. Williams incivility, Mrs. Jackson asked, “Where is Stephen?”.

The guests all then looked around the room, but not one of them could seem to find the man. He was gone!

Silence fell over the room. While they’d been gawking over a necklace, Mr. Green had disappeared!

Awkward and guilty glances were exchanged around the room. “ We ought to go out and find him.” Mrs. Jackson decided, nodded her head. “We ought to call the police!” Mrs. Watson sneered. “Someone has assaulted Mrs. Jackson and stole her property!”

“I’ll show you to the phone.” Mr. Bell responded, and the pair made their way to the door, opened it and left.

The remaining men and women went to the door to exit the dining room, to find Mr. Green, and the diamond if they were lucky. Mr. Thatcher led the way, and the guests exited the room.

They split up, by the suggestion of Mr. Thatcher,so that half of the group would check the upper levels and the other the lower. The Richardson’s and Mr. Thatcher went upstairs, and  the remaining guests, Mrs. Rivera, Mrs. Spring, Mr. Brooks,Mr Williams, and Mrs Jackson stayed downstairs.

Mr. Brooks and Mrs. Jackson led the search downstairs. First they checked the parlor, where they’d first come to when they had arrived so much earlier that evening. Nothing, no sign of Mr. Green, and no sign of the diamond.

Next they checked the library, and again there was no sign of Stephen. After leaving the library, they checked the billiard room, lounge, and kitchen, but each time there was no sign of Stephen and no hope of finding him.

The final room to check was the ballroom. Wherever did Mr. Bell and Mrs Watson go? Mrs Jackson thought. She wondered how a phone call could take so long. Mrs. Spring swung open the doors to the ballroom, and as the light of the hall light up the dark room, every man and woman there let out a gasp of horror. “Look there, it’s Mr. Green!” someone shouted.

There, swinging from the chandelier was Mr. Green! He swung with a rope around his neck. He swung and his face was blue and purple, he swung and the veins in his eye bulged as red as Mrs. Rivera’s dress. “The diamond!” someone else called out. Mrs. Jackson turned to look again at Mr. Green, and saw the diamond, her diamond, in Mr. Green's eye!

Yet again, all eyes turned to Mrs. Jackson. “It was you!” Mr. Williams accused. “What? N-no! No, no it wasn’t!” Mrs Jackson stammered, taken back by the confrontation. “Why on earth would she steal her own diamond?” Mr. Brooks defended, “If anyone did it, it’s you. You’re the one who’s Stephens sworn enemy. You must be the one who killed him.”

“ I hated Stephen but I didn’t kill him.” Mr. Williams replied, “Thats a bold claim.”

“I don’t believe you!” Mrs. Spring declared, “The police will need far more proof than just the word of a known criminal!”

All around the room the guests stood yelling and accusing, as Mr. Green swung from the chandelier. “Where are Mrs. Watson and Mr. Bell? They’ve been gone an awful long time.” Mrs. Jackson stated. “And should someone go find Karen, Clark, and Howard?”

“Should we go look for them? With a murderer and thief loose in the house! It could be any one of you!” Mr. Williams cried out at the them. The guests stood staring at each other, searching for signs of a murderer, but unfortunately for them the murderer was not standing there with them. The murderer was elsewhere in the house, deciding the fate of his next victim.