New York - A millionaire philanthropist, Johnstone Harriman III, has been found dead in his stretched limousine, five days after his chauffeur walked away for a cigarette and some take-out food. The chauffeur, Lance Butterworth, succumbed to food poisoning and had to be taken to Bronx Hospital where he remains in a medically induced coma.
In the meantime it is believed that Mr. Harriman succumbed to head injuries after being struck on the head by an blacksmith's anvil whilst leaning out the window of the limousine to see what in blazes had happened to his driver.
The blacksmith, a Mr. Mortimer, was transporting his equipment to a local fairground where an historical display was being undertaken to recreate 19th century New York, complete with farm animals and equipment.
Mr. Mortimer, a rather avid historical reinactor, was perturbed by the loss of his anvil, particularly at the expense of an obviously wealthy philanthropist's head, and, upon seeing the carnage, ran off to the ship terminal, caught a boat, and hasn't been seen since.
His fiance, a Miss Mildred Pugh, followed the route that she knew Mortimer would take, came across the scene of carnage and promptly called the local radio station who sent out a junior reporter, a Mr. Swell.
Mr. Swell, having never undertaken such a complex story, decided to ring up a screenwriter friend to get round and see if he could put all the pieces together for the purpose of perhaps selling an option to the story to some bigwig movie producer.
The screenwriter friend, Bradley Bartholemew, arrived and, having forgotten to charge the battery on his laptop, immediately turned back round to see if he could get a replacement at the nearest laptop closeout location.
Upon reaching the nearest laptop closeout location, Mr. Bartholemew was confronted by a thief who was exiting the door of the laptop closeout location with the days receipts; cash in hand. Seeing that a bird in the hand is worth two-in-the-bush, Bartholemew nailed the thief straight between the eyes with his batteryless laptop, jumped in a cab, headed to the airport, grabbed a plane, landed in France, hopped on a bus, transferred to a train, then landed on a beach in the south of France where he, by remarkable coincidence, ran into our friend, Mr. Mortimer, who, unbenownst to Bartholemew, was the actual perpetrator of the crime he was trying to write about and sell; the crime against Mr. Harriman III.
Well, back to Mr. Johnstone Harriman III, unlucky devil with an anvil lodged in his forehead. Well, the upshot of all this is, having spent countless days with all this activity going on surrounding his death and no one bothering to account for his demise with the local constabulary, the poor dead chap unwittingly received all these parking tickets after having been stuck in the back seat and not grabbing the attention of the local parking bylaw officer.
How's that for bad luck..eh?
