Dead by Breakfast

     It was raining. Tiffany Applesby did not like the rain. It ruined her hair. She was very proud of her neat blonde curls and very worried about going gray. Tiffany would be a lot less worried if her brother stopped acting a fool.

     The brother in question, Christopher, was missing from the breakfast table. It was just Tiffany and her father, lord Reginald Applesby. The stern looking old man sat at the head of the table. Silent. Looming. In fact, the only sound in the room was the soft bustle of staff preparing.

     Then, in his usual explosion of noise and color, Christopher flounced in from the kitchen. “Sister dearest, father, I hope I have not kept you.”

     Tiffany wanted to ask, why were you late? Why were you in the kitchen? Were you out gambling again, or seeing whores?

     However, their father, silenced her questioning look with a rays of his hand. Christopher sat and the plates were served. Breakfast carried on in its usual silent fashion.

     It was omelets. Tiffany hated omelets.

     The following events happened incredibly quickly. Lord Applesby suddenly flushed bright red and began wheezing, and clawing at his throat, Annette a maid dropped a plate and screamed. Tiffany rushed to his side as her father fell forward, calling for the butler. Her brother sprang up and ran into the hall as the butler rushed in.

     Eddins lifted lord Applesby back to sitting. His face was swollen and red. Tiffany could not tell if he was breathing. Eddins felt for his pulse. Both on his neck and his wrist. Then he pressed an ear to his back.

     Tiffany's chest felt tight.

     He was gone.

     The butler swallowed. “I'll telephone the hospital.”