podcast trial 1

A murder mystery app called Winker Murder is advertised as a fun interactive game where players can solve murders or become murderers themselves. A partnership between Rosé O'Clock and Cluedunit.com offers a relaxing evening of wine and murder podcast listening. Mrs. White is discovered cleaning up broken glass in the conservatory and reveals drops of blood on the floor. She denies any involvement in a crime but later confesses to cleaning up a potential crime scene. The fate of Reverend Green, who is missing, becomes the focus of investigation. Miss Scarlet, a Hollywood starlet, mourns his death and recalls their friendship. Looking for a fun escape from reality? Winker Murder is the perfect app for you. Whether you're a victim or a murderer, you're sure to have a killer of a time playing this new interactive game. Connect with your friends and family to solve a murder or see how many of them you can shoot, stab or strangle before the clock runs out. Brilliant fun for all the family. Suitable for ages 6 and up. Winker Murder does not claim responsibility for any children committing real life crimes and are not liable for physical or bodily harm inspired by gameplay. Terms and conditions do apply. Tired after a long day of work? Kids driving you crazy? You deserve a big night in. That's why Rosé O'Clock has partnered with Cluedunit.com to give you a perfect evening of bliss. Pop a bottle of our new fizzy Rosé collection or perhaps escape with one of our crisp white wines. Sit back and sip along to an episode of your favourite murder podcast and forget about your troubles over a glass and a crime scene. Speciality poison bottles sold separately. Rosé O'Clock and Cluedunit.com please urge our listeners to please drink responsibly. Oh my dear, you startled me. In my defence, I hadn't expected to see Mrs White there. She'd given me rather a shock myself. Here, look. Help me up. Mrs White was the sweetest old lady imaginable. She had a face that butter wouldn't melt. But then I thought back to what Miss Peacock had been saying, that anyone could be a killer under the right influence. Could this sweet old dear struggling to stand up and speak from the floor be a killer too? It's always a quieter one. Ah, thank you Poppet. You'd think my joints were made of stone. Here, have a butterscotch. Well they're the bloodthirsty killer if they ever did see one. What were you doing Mrs White? You should have asked one of us to help you. Oh no, no dear. No one should have to make a song and dance for me. I'm perfectly fine as I am. Besides, someone needed to get to that mess. If someone had stepped in this lot, it'd have been nasty business. That's when I saw exactly what Mrs White had been sweeping up. Shards of broken glass. One of the conservatory's windows had been completely shattered. How odd. It must have happened recently, as I'd been in the conservatory no more than an hour or so before. Could this have something to do with Red and Green and what happened to him? People need to be more careful with their surroundings. No one should ever clean them up after themselves. People like these spend no time for others, dearie. Simply take and take under the guise of supposed benevolence. Mrs White, when did you notice the glass on the floor? After we all left the main hall. I thought coming here and seeing all the plants might calm my nerves. The housekeeper would have swept it up eventually of course, but I couldn't just leave it there after I'd already seen it. We're not in the most responsible of company, as I'm sure you've noticed. It's no bother truly. But it was a bother. It was a rather significant bother. If this was in fact how Red and Green had met its tragic end, there was a good chance that the poor old Mrs White had swept up the evidence. I crouched down to examine the contents of the pan. It was mostly broken glass, a few leaves and then, amongst the clutter, a bullet. My goodness, how exciting. Exciting, Mrs White. I apologise. Exciting is probably not the best term of phrase. It's just that I've swept hundreds of floors in my lifetime and the most interesting findings I've come across have been a couple of pennies or the odd earrings. But the bullet? My, that's a new one. I couldn't help but wonder, how had Mrs White not noticed the bullet in the first place? I knew her eyesight and her age were less than perfect, but the bullet is rather a noticeable thing amongst shards of glass. It was then that I noticed the rest of her cleaning supplies. Dishcloths and a bucket of soapy water. When has she had time to collect all this equipment? Mrs White must have noticed my gaze and gone. Ah, yes. It seems someone came across the glass before I did. They must have cut themselves up right nasty. There were drops of blood all over the floor. Well, I thought, that's not sanitary at all, is it? And we're most... I couldn't help but wonder, how had Mrs White not noticed the bullet in the first place? I knew her eyesight and her age were less than perfect, but the bullet is rather a noticeable thing amongst shards of glass. It was then that I noticed the rest of her cleaning supplies. Dishcloths and a bucket of soapy water. When has she had time to collect all this equipment? Mrs White must have noticed my gaze and gone. Ah, yes. It seems someone came across the glass before I did. They must have cut themselves up right nasty. There were drops of blood all over the floor. Well, I thought, that's not sanitary at all, is it? And we're most certainly staying if left long enough. So I decided to give back the clean to and give the housekeeper one last jog. It must take her hours to clean such a large house every day. Mrs White, is it not possible that this is where Reverend Green was injured, if not killed? And that this is the blood... Mrs White, is it not possible that this is where Reverend Green was injured, if not killed? And that the blood you cleaned up was his? At that, Mrs White visibly paled. She was indeed the killer. She was an excellent actress. Oh my goodness! Is this... Is this a crime scene? Have I just cleaned up a crime scene? Oh dear, oh dear. Oh dear indeed. Oh dear indeed. If this has been a crime scene, Mrs White has quite possibly scrubbed it clean of all evidence. Maybe, Mrs White, though we can't be truly sure just yet. As you said, this manor is very big. September 1st, 1949. She told me that afternoon while there was an evening hand store, you'd better believe I would have run for the hills. They said it was already unfamiliar to me, the grand manor house with Tudor clothes. And these guests are such characters. I felt as though I couldn't trust any of them. Is anyone else here? Miss Scarlet. Once a woman on the factory floor, now a Hollywood starlet. Climbed so far she dare not look down. Who on earth is making such a racket? Mrs Peacock. A woman known to often clutch her pearls and write exorbitant checks to charity. Or the one she ran, at least. Some of us are trying to match here. Colonel Mustard. The drunken war hero. You can always tell when he's rounding the corner because the stench of whiskey precedes his entrance. Where is the reverend? Mrs White. Calm, collected, the type of woman you couldn't imagine hurting a fly. Of course, she was the only person who noticed the disappearing elf. Reverend Green? I haven't seen him. Professor Plum. The disgraced academic. A man of once high esteem reduced to breathlandering filth. Oh my, that laughter and him screaming. Do you think he's alright? Oh, absolutely. I always scream bloody murder when I'm perfectly fine. There's no need for such cheek, Colonel. Or such dramatics, Miss Scarlet. You are giving me a migraine. Is he working? Nobody will be driving in that storm, winds too high. Does that mean we're stuck here? The idea of being trapped in this house with these people, knowing that something terrible may have happened to Reverend Green, was ghastly. Seems as though we won't be able to contact the authorities until morning. I'll be in the study. I need a drink. Alive or dead, harmed or unharmed, the fate of Reverend Green was an unanswered question quickly dismissed by his guests. I have never before met people such as these, and it is clear to me that we cannot be more different. I have never been able to settle for half-truths or uncertainty. The fate of Reverend Green was known by somebody within this banner. Unlike the other guests, I couldn't simply choose a room and settle in for an evening of drink. I have to investigate this mystery myself, and I have to know who, where, how and why. The next destination of my investigation was the library, a place filled with rows upon rows of rare books and antique collectibles. Libraries are usually synonymous with silence, at least they have been in my experience. However, it seemed Miss Scarlet disagreed with this assessment. The woman in question stood precariously on top of an antique desk, a bottle of champagne in her hand as she swayed back and forth in what seemed to be some kind of dance. Tear tracks ran down her face, and the anguished wails left her mouth in amongst jumbled song lyrics, what songs she was trying to sing with anybody's guests. Miss Scarlet, Miss Scarlet, are you alright? It's just so unfair. She didn't deserve to die. It's all so tragic. Miss Scarlet clambered down from the top of the desk, her excessively tight dress making her dismount difficult. She threw herself into a nearby armchair, taking a long swallow from a champagne bottle every couple of seconds. It's all very tragic, yes. You don't think I can get you? I had no idea you and the Reverend had been so close. He was such a loving man, so kind and generous. I just can't imagine he could ever do such a horrible thing. That is indeed the question of the hour. I attempted to comfort the wailing woman as best I could, but it seemed her grief would know no end. Maybe if we focus on happier times it may help. Let us talk about Reverend Green as he was when he was alive, instead of dwelling on what may have happened to him. Alright, yes. That sounds rather nice. How did you first meet him? Oh, it's such a lovely story. The first film I was in was shot on location, you see. It hadn't the budget for a studio, not like the movies I'm in now. And while the Reverend saw us filming and came to see what was happening, we talked for so long that day, whenever I was between takes or having a break. It seems you really hit it off, despite your age gap and such different locations. Yes, yes we did. He helped me after that, fit bigger roles and such. He has so many connections, a man of such depth. It seems the Reverend did more hands-on charity work than simply writing cheques for Miss Peacock's Foundation. Have you seen him to thank you for your career? Well, not completely, no. I had to work very hard to get where I am, and have talent, of course. I am talented at what I do. Producers see that when they cast me. Oh, of course. I didn't mean to say otherwise. The Reverend just offered me a little help, that's all. And he was a friend. We had dinner often and went to parties together, galas and things like that. It was an unlikely friendship, some would say, but an honest one. Of course, yes. You must have been to his house regularly then, for dinner parties and such. The invitation for tonight must not have been a surprise to you at all, not like it was for the rest of us. Oh, yes, yes. Yes, I have been here often, many a time. I've come to his dinner parties here regularly. The invitation was no surprise at all, no, no. Seeming uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation and hoping to draw attention away from her blatant lie, Miss Scarlet stands up from the chair she was lumped in and teeters over towards one of the bookshelves. Her steps are incredibly unsteady and I move towards her to help. Before I can steady her, she falls onto the bookshelf, knocking several onto the ground. Oh, no, not the books. What a tragedy. The more time I spent in the company of Miss Scarlet, the more sure I became that far more merit should be given to the Reverend for the success of her career and her acting skills. The Reverend did so love his books. Oh, my goodness, my champagne. It's all over the books. No need to worry, I'll clean them away. Hidden amongst the books, at the back of one of the shelves, was a revolver. I pulled it out of its hiding place and moved it to sit in the chair next to the largest lamp. Oh, my goodness, a gun. Where on earth did you find that? The Reverend hated them, detested them. Oh, what if it killed him? I peered down at the revolver in my hands, unsure of what to do next. I opened what I guessed was to be the cylinder. Five bullets are inside, the sixth cartridge is empty. Someone had fired this gun and I needed to know who. On the 13th of February, the best rom-com of the decade will be released in cinema. When a blind date becomes a scene of a gruesome murder, John and Jane must work together to uncover the killer's identity and clear their name. Can this shy scientist and optimistic actress put their differences aside to survive? Or will there be another murder on this night of Valentine's? Rated to hits at 12. I have the where and the how. The who and the why are still unanswered. Go to episode 2 to discover the answers alongside me.