Here is my long short story number four, a whodunnit hot off the press. At the time of writing, my associates in the U3A Writers Collective had not yet heard me read it out aloud. I have caught a ‘flu bug and perhaps I am being a little ambitious with this particular type of crime short story, and maybe it doesn’t come off quite right, but I enjoyed writing it. You will get the gist of it and I hope you will wonder about the outcome.

U3A Writers Collective Word of the Week May 2026
THE WRITERS COLLECTIVE HOMEWORK CHARACTER
THEME PROMPT: ‘I walked around the corner and saw…’
TITLE: ‘Office Work Can Kill’ A whodunnit
CHARACTERS: Anita, Mr Stevens, Margaret, Ambo, Aunt Joyce
FONT: Times New Roman 11pt
LINE SPACING: 1.15
WORDCOUNT: 472
AI Free Zone

“I walked around the corner and saw Mr Stevens dead on the floor beside my office desk.” A sob left my throat as I dabbed at my eyes and sniffled.
The police and ambulance officer looked hard at me.
It was the truth and it frightened me with its simplicity.
Previously I had run out of time and been late three consecutive days.
The assistant office manager Mr Stevens had frowned and looked pointedly at his expensive watch.
No words were exchanged but it was enough to make anyone feel guilty even if the buses were late.
I understood pressure, Mr Stevens applied it. Some staff of Butterworth Buist Boilers & Burners had not had holidays in years.
“Who works in an office without benefits?” I thought irritably.
I stamped across the uneven floor to my wonky desk chair which squeaked mournfully as I tugged the cover off my typewriter and shoved it into my desk drawer. The carbon paper and quarto sheets refused to line up and I rolled them back and forth until ripping them out and starting again. Unfortunately Mr Stevens would have seen my actions.
No doubt he will sidle by my desk later and fish around in my waste paper basket.
“Creepy he is,” said Margaret at the next desk. “I reckon he deserves a good whack in the chops.” She winked. “I’ve wrangled holidays.”
My envy showed, however it was my turn to take Friday’s mail to the post office and I dawdled there and back via the bakery.
Sunday night and Aunt Joyce came to dinner bringing a pavlova smothered in cream and tropical fruit. Everyone ate seconds and later Aunt Joyce leaned over saying “Want to know what I think?”
“About what?” I asked.
She supressed a laugh. “Your lousy job.”
My cheeks flushed. “I bored everyone, sorry.”
She stirred her teacup. “You need a strategy to put Mr Bully Boy in his place.” Aunt Joyce was ex-army and over twenty minutes she outlined how to fling facts at Mr Stevens. She said “Don’t give up kiddo. I’ve got your back.”
I smiled, knowing plans can backfire.
However, next morning at work I must have fainted and now found myself recounting the gruesome details to staff, police, and an ambulance officer checking my vital signs.
“Obviously Mr Stevens had been snooping around my desk and sat on my wonky chair,” I said.
I guessed the chair had slipped out from under him, his head hitting the sharp corner of the desk as he went crashing to the floor, scattering contents of the wastepaper basket which now pooled in blood.
Between horror and relief I told the ambulance officer that I was determined to resign from BBB & B immediately. He nodded and a disturbing thought crossed my mind. “Has Margaret gone on holidays yet?”

♥ © Gretchen Bernet-Ward 2026