A Miss Adventure Mini-Mystery:
"Low Deeds at High Tea"
BOUNCEN-ON-TAYEL, England — Invited to England late last year to meet the Queen, Kevin Andrews—known to fans the world over as Miss Adventure, the Gayest American Hero—was surprised to learn that Her Majesty was a woman.
“Well, naturally I just assumed…” an embarrassed Andrews confessed to Weekly World News.
To recover from this and his second faux paux (“You’d think she never had her bottom patted by anyone,” an exasperated Miss America exclaimed), Andrews went to spend the weekend at the country estate of an old friend, Lord Drew Nancy, accompanied by his friend and mentor Danny ‘Dee Dee’ Romano.
“We arrived in time for tea,” Andrews recalled of that fateful day. “I couldn’t wait to get my hands on Lord Nancy’s crumpets, although after the incident with that so-called ‘queen,’ I was going to ask before reaching for anything while in England.”
Along with Andrews and Dee Dee, Lord Nancy had several other invited guests at Pinkswod, his ancestral estate. Among them were Turkish international man of mystery, James Boundandgagd, author Truman Formen and his escort Timmy, famed designed Oskar De La Rentaboy, and cross-dressing singing sensation, Pearled Daley.
“We made quite the little circle, although the tea was ignored as we admired the flatwear and china,” Andrews recalled. “After a while, Lord Nancy’s butler, Fist, let us know it was time to dress for dinner.
“‘Dee Dee’ donned a 1930s-style tuxedo, while I wore a white dinner jacket, yellow silk blouse and matching cravat atop my startling red, orange and yellow kilt and fire engine red Stuunado pumps.”
But the dressing ritual was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream that sent Miss Adventure, Dee Dee and the others racing to its source.
“Three of us broke heels getting to Oskar De La Rentaboy’s ensuite” Andrews said. “James Boundandgagd was already trying to open the locked door when the rest of us arrived. He borrowed two hairpins from me to pop the lock and we raced inside.”
What they found was Oskar, his manly frame sheathed in a flowered feminine frock, sprawled dead on the floor, a spilled drink lying near his fingertips. Andrews dropped to his knees and sniffed at the spill, then surveyed the room.
“The smell of crème de mint,” he said, “and bitter almonds—cyanide!”
The bottle itself was still on the nightstand and all the windows were securely locked from the inside. It looked like he had locked himself in, dressed himself up, poured a cyanide cocktail, and ended it all.
“I remarked to James Boundandgagd that I found Oskar’s final outfit an odd choice,” Andrews recalled, “though James said he thought the designer looked rather fetching.
“That’s when I knew it was murder!” Andrews announced. “And whodunit!”
Lord Nancy called for tea and cakes and we seated ourselves around the body.
“I went ‘eenie-meenie-minee-moe’ around the room, stopped on James Boundandgagd, and cried, ‘J’accuse!’ because even accusations sound better in French.
“James went all indignant and had to be restrained while I explained how he had placed the poison into Oskar’s drink, then dressed up the dearly departed, slipped from the room, screamed to bring us all running, then pretended to have to unlock the door to strengthen the illusion of suicide. But I knew that Oskar favored solids and stark lines, whereas James always preferred him in something a touch more femme. Those colors? It had to be murder...Oskar De La Rentaboy wouldn’t have been caught dead in that dress!”