Murder Mysteries

“Another pathetic soul, tonight,” I said under my thick breath of tobacco. My partner, Mr. Douglas nodded in agreement. The limped body in front of us was covered by a thin layer of pink leotard. A small bulge was caught seen in between the two muscular legs. Mr. Douglas gulped and his eyes clearly told me that he had the exact same thought like mine in his mind. The studio was like any 70’s shows only that it was now engulfed with terror. There was a deep cut just below the deceased’s robust abdomen. That might be the cause of the death. It was staggering and the place smelled like rusty metal, the smell of blood. Somebody was sobbing. I could hear faint weep across the crowd.

“Crime scene, move please!” Mr. Douglas shoved away the crowd and left only three people in front of me, the suspects. “No one is allowed to leave this room until the investigation is over”. Mr. Douglas’ accent stirred the crowd and the studio was perilous.

“Hey, you can’t do this to us! I’ve to run an errand. My wife is waiting for me. I can’t miss her important birthday!” A man in his late thirties came forward and barked. I moved my shoulder, a universal sign to prove that “I-am-the-authority-and-you-can’t-do-anything-to-stop-me”. The man sat on the director’s chair and studied the room in great intense of anger. There was a pretentious cough as I was scanning the studio for any signs of important clue.

“Ehurm how much longer do we have to wait?”

“You just need to cooperate and I can deal with this case in brink of a second.”

“I take that as a promise.”

The man walked with pride and settled himself to a nearby red-headed girl who was weeping and patted her shoulder while whispering something to the girl. She chuckled and whispered something to him in response and both of them looked at me in blank expression. The man then drew the girl closer to his body and comforted her and his eyes were fatherly and glinted due to bright flashes coming from a camera.

“Stop that! You aren’t allowed to take any pictures in here.”

“I’m just a freelance journalist. They call me Sam. This news is going to be a blast!”

“Yeah, yeah. Oppsss.” Mr. Douglas purposely snatched the camera from the thin skeletal man and took away the photographic film and crushed it - apathy.

“I guess this belongs to you.” Mr. Douglas smiled with his loony face.

There was a guy in a dark black hood leaning against a wall. I approached him and I can sense his nervousness. This man was lacked of confidence. He would scram the minute I make a blind shot near his temples. It’s going to be a long night.

“You've seen anything strange?” The guy was acting strange too as he kept scratching his torso. Fleas.

“I...I...saw...ze wh..whole...t...t...zing. Ze t...t...tall guy was d...d...doing his r...re...gular...routine when a dd...dagger flew...zowards him and iz’s coming from one of ze audience.”

Was he bluffing? Because I can already feel his confidence building towards the end of his story.

“Do you know who’s behind this...Mr....”

“N...ame is D...Damien”. There it went again. He stuttered and he even occasionally lisped. The articulation coming from his nostrils only tested my patience to its limit. A modern igor! I can’t help myself from feeling the slender body of my revolver inside of my burgundy jacket. “I...don’t...know.” He continued with his shaky voice and he scratched his nose. Liar! He knew something but I won’t push him.

“Thank you.”

“B...ut...the tall guy...looked pa...le...”

“What was it again?”

The modern igor told me that the deceased who was also known as Mr. Young appeared peculiar as if he just saw something bad. He was running from something. He then pointed his short scaly finger towards the guy who had been sitting on the director’s chair.

“As...ask him...ze guy kn..ows somezing.”

That was “easy”. First, a freak that was even scared of his very own shadow and now, time to box with a rotting bag of arrogance. Hollywood finally showed its true colour. God bless our soul.

“He said you know something.”

“I know nothing. That freak only wants my money.”

“Which freak?”

“The one who patronizes you with his stuttering music, dick.”

“Listen.” I dragged him to the floor and punched him right on his nose. I heard a crack. It must be my knuckles.

“I don’t have time for loathsome like you. A man is killed and every clue is pointing towards you. You hear me? I don’t give a damn if this investigation is going to cause your time. Cooperate or say goodbye to your jaw.”

He crawled to his knees and he shook. His pants were wet and he smelled of piss. A coward. Correction, a grumpy coward. He trembled as my hand lightly touched him. “It was you.”

His head slowly nodded. Mr. Douglas was ready with his handcuffs. A copper, a revolver and a handcuffs. The trios always made me smile. The director confessed. He threatened Mr. Young, the victim that he will kill his family if he can’t leave his hands off from his wife. He decided to murder him when he found out that he still slept with his wife. I sensed something was wrong with his tone and his body turned blue and there was no pulse as I put my finger to his neck to search for pulse. He was poisoned but why?

There’s a loud gasp. The man covered his daughter face with the back of his hand, protectively preventing his daughter from looking at the distorted face of the director. I studied my pocket-watch. It was already 2 in the morning. This case was getting nastier. My head was in pain. I remembered the brooding face of the father. Sinister. There was a devil inside of the angelic faces of the daughter-father. This was Hollywood. Acting should be a part of their life. I whistled and called Mr. Douglas.

“Wrong! It was the guy next to the father-daughter. Catch him.”

The guy tried to flee and I heard gunshots. He tried to make way through the crowd. He can’t run away from me. Not from me. A dagger flung right through his heart. Red crimson blood like the colour of red apple dripped to the floor. He held his chest for the pain starting to torment him. I put his head on my arms.

“How do you know it was me?”

“You used the director to eradicate Mr. Young because you knew his weakness. He did your dirty works.”

His choked was revolting and blood was on his lips. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mr. Green.” I tipped my bowler hat and stubbed my last piece of cigarette next to his body and faded with Mr. Douglas. Thin layer of mist covered our last trace of presence. My wings flapped boringly. We swiftly flew in the cold night air.

“There’s another murder, next block Saraquael.”

“The sinned humans can never satiate their hunger for fresh blood, Carasel."

My mouth carved faint smile as we disappeared through the clouds.