<!--
	Title: Suspect Author Suspected
	Author: Dave Lebling
	Source: The New Zork Times, v4(1)
	Date: Winter 1985
	Transcription by Steve Derby
-->

A few hours after the start of this year's Halloween party, my wife
Janet said, "Would you mind getting my makeup kit out of the bedroom? I
need to touch up my blood." Since she was costumed as a vampire, and
the blood dripping from one corner of her mouth was getting a little
tired-looking, I thought nothing of it. I noticed that the bedroom door was
closed, so I knocked first (parties being what they are). No one
answered, so I opened it, and there, lying half-dead on the bed, was one
of the party guests! With her last reserve of strength, she staggered
from the room and collapsed onto the living room floor, strangled!

Naturally, I followed her, wondering what was going on, and no
sooner did she die than I was accused of killing her. Almost
immediately, "Sergeant Duffy" and the "Detective" arrived on the scene
and began making a case for my guilt. In a thick Irish accent, the
detective interrogated a suspicious group of my friends and fellow
Infocommies. The evidence was overwhelming, and it was looking
pretty grim. There was an (obviously forged) incriminating letter signed in
my handwriting, and (obviously perjured) testimony from people
who had seen me with the victim in a local sub shop.

Finally, the detectives searched the body and found another letter that
pointed to still more evidence implicating someone else. The
murderer tried to flee, but he was captured and handcuffed on the
second floor of the house as he tried to make his escape. Justice was
done, just in the nick of time.

In the end, a vast conspiracy headed by my wife, Janet, and the
co-host of the party, Rick Moore, was revealed. While I had been
writing *Suspect*™, Janet had been writing this frame-up. While the
Infocom testers were finding bugs in *Suspect*, they were also finding bugs
in the frame-up. And while I was helping to set up the party, the
conspirators were putting the final touches on the play.

For weeks afterward Janet would periodically say, "You're *sure* you
didn't suspect anything?" I never had.

I never was a very good detective.
