A Death in the Evening, part one (fiction)

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A Death in the Evening, part one.

After knocking on the door and getting no response, Anastasia tried opening it and found it was locked. She walked around the property looking for an open window, but didn’t see anything promising. She sighed and walked back to the door. Pulling out of a bunch of keys from her coat, she tried picking the lock. After a short period of time, she managed to force open the door and walked into a scene of devastation.

The first thing she noticed was the smell of the blood, making her feel slightly hungry. There was blood smeared all over the floors and walls of both the kitchen and the living room. On the floor of the living room was the body of a middle-aged woman lying in a pool of her own blood. Anastasia quickly checked her out. There were multiple stab wounds all over her torso and neck. Anastasia was certain that all the blood that had been smeared everywhere had been from her. On the wall of the living room were smeared the words “I WILL HAVE SATISFACTION!”, again in the victim’s blood. She pondered on what it meant. Anastasia pulled out her phone and made a call.

“Megan?” she asked.

“Yes boss.”

“I need you to come over immediately to 45a Cartwright Lane. You will need to take photographs.”

“Okay boss. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Anastasia then followed the bloody footprints that went out of the living room into the hallway. They led to the bathroom and then suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Anastasia couldn’t see any trapdoor or any other way out of this room. The window was closed and fastened. She then looked through the rest of the house, including upstairs, and found nothing disturbed or out of place. She found a personal journal lying on a bedside table and quickly pocketed it. Apart from the footprints, there was no other sign there had been anyone else here. The smell of all the blood had overpowered any other smell for her. Her stomach rumbled.

“Is it okay if I turn the lights on boss? It’s rather dark in here.” A short time later Megan had turned up. She had her long wavy brown hair tied back and had begun taking pictures of the rooms. Though she had seen many horrors by now, Megan still looked pale and disturbed by the scene before her.

“Sure.” Anastasia replied.

“Isn’t this Wendy Carruthers? One of your clients?” Megan asked as she turned on the lights to the living room and kitchen.

“I’m afraid so.” Anastasia replied. “Be sure to get pictures of the footprints that lead into the hallway as well.”

“Yes boss.” Megan replied. “Didn’t she leave you a message earlier today?”

“Yes.” Anastasia confirmed. “I was a bit tardy in responding to it, and she obviously paid the price for it.”

“Any ideas who did this?” Megan asked.

“Not at his point.” Anastasia admitted. This was going to be a difficult one. She had known Wendy for a while now and was distressed this had happened to her. Wendy hadn’t deserved this. She had always been a nice, gentle and caring person in all the dealings that Anastasia had had with her. It all felt rather personal.

“Well I’m done taking pictures. What now boss?” Megan looked up at her expectantly.

“Now you are going to get out of here.” Anastasia told her. Megan looked relieved she could leave.

“What about you boss?” she asked. Anastasia smiled at her and took out her phone again.

“I’m going to call the police.”

to be continued….

Joanne Fisher

This is the beginning of a detective story. I’m not sure how many parts it will take to complete it, though I’m thinking of around ten at this point.

In other news:

My “poem” Let Me Be Your Sponge Mop was a joint winner in the Terrible Poetry Competition #57. Should I be proud of this moment? I’ll let you be the judge…

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