I’ve been reading a few murder mysteries lately and my mind is wholly preoccupied with its entire world so for this prompt, I decided to write about a place I’d like to be in experimentally that of fictional folds in the midst of a murder mystery. There’s just something intoxicating about solving a mystery, and the closest I suppose I’ll ever come to it, is writing about it. Don’t worry, I’m in there somewhere, I just won’t be frank about who exactly…the killer, the witness, the detective, I guess the reader can try and piece it together like their own puzzle to solve. Here goes…
A call came in the dead of night, disrupting Andrew North from much-needed sleep. Groggily, he reached for the phone on the night stand, cursing under his breath at the disruption. “Hello?”
“There’s been a murder, I’m afraid.” A familiar voice spoke on the other end, apologetic yet firm in itself. “Can you come down to the scene of the crime?”
Gruffly dismissed the notion of leaving his hotel room, Andrew gumbled,”I’ve told you not to call me in the early hours of the morning.”
“Then am I dreaming about this phone call, Fox?” Andrew cut in sardonically.
Darius Fox, his good friend who knew just how to rouse the rather grumpy sleuth, then said, ” I think you’ll be interested to know where the murder took place.”
“Your east end flat.” Fox said, sounding smug. “The drawing room, to be exact.”
Andrew sat up disconcerted, grudging remnants of sleep disseminating into alertness. He muttered, “I’m on my way.”
Grabbing his car keys and dressing in a matter of minutes he was out the door, leaving it ajar in his hurry, only for a night concierge to see.
Andrew reached his old address in twenty minutes, seeing a minimal number of police cars, probably owing to the fact that Fox had wanted to call him in first. They’d been working together for a good number of years. Solving murders was their perverse means of spending time with one another, negated only by incessant analysis both on and off the job.
The minute he stepped through the front door, which oddly did not appear to be tampered with, Andrew saw Fox speaking to a local policeman.
“What happened?” Andrew interrupted.
Turning around, Fox gave him all the details in his clipped tone, matter of fact, ” No sign of a break in, no fingerprints and the doctor has already examined the body. Put the time of death at around midnight to one AM.”
“How’d this get reported? Did anyone see anything?”
“Not a person, per say.” Fox clarified. ” A neighbour…” He paused to check a pad of paper in his hand, “Ms. Nottham, saw a light on and heard a scream from the house.. I’ve already spoken with her on the matter.”
Andrew remained silent, thinking. Fox gestured for him to follow, leading him to the drawing room. It lay before his eyes exactly as it had been before he had opted to move out. His interior decorator had been overwhelming with the antiquities, insisting on an old bureau, persian carpets and the like. A pool of scarlet now stained that very plush carpet, seeping in to stain the hardwood floor.
The body, however, did not occupy the space Andrew had anticipated it to be in. “You’ve taken the body away already?”
“Rigor mortis.” Fox supplied, glancing round the murder scene.
Nodding, Andrew turned around, frowning on thinking about the position of the body instead of fixating on its absence. He observed his old desk, and noticed that the letter opener was missing.
Fox picked up on this and supplied his theory, “Must have been a squatter staying here and then a robber broke in. They both must have had a bit of tussle and your letter opener was the first thing they grabbed and one of them ended up dead.”
“How specific.” Andrew said disdainfully.
“I suppose you’ve got a better explanation?” Fox challenged.
“I believe I do.” Andrew said slowly.
His colleague looked at him and then Andrew said something unimaginable:
“I did it.”
I left it at a cliffhanger, to see the response and whether people would want to read more. Let me know what you think! Is it worth continuing or altering or should I chuck it?