Chateau of Secrets Unraveling

I really needed to pee.

"Ladies and gentleman," the Inspector began, "we have assembled you here today to solve a crime."

My bladder was about to burst. The young man next to me (some sort of Lord? I wasn't sure) had just farted, which caused me to giggle, which caused everyone else to look at me. It was my turn now. One time during a show I started laughing and couldn't stop for thirty minutes. That's what they called me after that - Agent Laughter. Okay. No laughing this time. It was serious business here. Someone had been killed, and it could be any of us.

I shifted in my seat, trying not to let anyone see the bulge under my dress, but it was no use; I was already blushing, a deep crimson that rose from my neck all the way up until my hairline. A few people noticed and laughed again, but thankfully not loud enough for the Inspector to hear.

The Inspector continued. "The victim is Mrs. Rolette Lagasse de Chant d'Asile." Pause for effect - oh no! Was she French? She must have been French! They always have all sorts of crazy names! - then he spoke again: "Please take a moment to mingle and get to know one another."

I immediately got out of my seat and made my way outside without even looking around at anyone else in the room. As I passed through the doors, I heard someone behind me say something about how she was French (she must have been French!) and how it didn't make sense because there were so many people there she shouldn't have died yet (what did he mean by that?!). My bladder didn't care about the nuances of French insults or death rates amongst French-speaking women; it just wanted emptied ASAP before it made a mess on the carpet.

I quickly found the bathroom down the hall off an enormous living room with leather couches and chairs everywhere and a large fireplace in one corner surrounded by bookshelves filled floor-to-ceiling with books on every subject imaginable. There were even more books on display above the fireplace; some of them looked like first editions! Man oh man, if only I had brought Agent Dicks along with me so I could play him against these fancy pants rich guys and show them how cultured I was as well... But Agent Dicks had been left in my suitcase back in the lobby (in fact, he was probably still there), so they would just have to take me as I am: a simple girl from Florida who has no idea what most of these words mean when they're written out on paper much less pronounced correctly aloud while talking (and who would likely trip over her own feet before she could find her way back out again). They'd better start forgiving me soon though because... holy crap! They do NOT have bathrooms for women here! There's just a single urinal! And all those men I saw earlier wandering around... oh god! What if they can hear me peeing?! What if they can see me peeing?! What if they don't know who I am?! Oh god... oh god... oh -- ughhnnnghhh!