detective

‘I see, and you would like me to go there tonight?’ Mrs Sullivan revealed a rather small dilapidated white envelope from her jacket pocket and as she stood up she neatly placed it on the desk; painting a look of trust upon her face. ‘You are a good man,’ she cunningly said, hinting her reply whilst elegantly leaving the room.

     The atmosphere changed abruptly after her departure, and I seemed somewhat more relaxed than from the past few minutes. I looked curiously at the envelope Mrs Sullivan had given me as I slowly reached across the piles of books that had escalated across my drawers to take a firm grip upon the pasty white paper it was made from. Taking a small silver knife a cut a narrow incision across the opening of the envelope, as if dissecting a human part. A crumpled up piece of paper was lodged inside reading the address of the casino and attached was an obscure photo of what must have been Mr Sullivan. Further embedded was a check for three thousand dollars.  

     Darkness dissembled through the air as time struck an impatient punishment on day. I was already gussied up in the appropriate clothing, consisting of formal black trousers and a bowler hat, marking a disguise on my presence. With me I took a leather satchel containing the envelope and its interior as well as a pair of rubber gloves, a notepad and pen and a pocket sized camera. I opened the door of my office, and what felt like a gush of wind blew boisterously onto me. I closed the door securely as I was swept off my feet like a fallen leaf. I walked stubbornly through the mist and the force of the wind felt like enormous weights of invisible power on my shoulders. The air smelt vile and the glow of street lamps hung like fireflies under the blue cover.

     I took my rusty keys from my right breast pocket and purposefully inserted them into the matching lock upon the patent car door. My hands were thick with sweat and the keys seemed to oppose the texture. After several minutes the lock clicked out of its position, enabling me to enter the car. The car was old, and often took a bit of persuasion to start but that day it seemed rather motivated and soon I was whirling along the narrow streets on my way to the casino in which Mr Sullivan accordingly would be.

     I emerged from the darkness of perplexing side streets onto the corner of Harebridge Street beside the casino.  Evasive ultra-violet lights hung befriended by the tacky posters pasted disturbingly on the plaster-ridden brick walls. The next thing I knew, I was in the casino. Music flavoured the air, adding a taste of mystery in the hall. Slowly I began to move in and out through the crowd of people who looked satisfyingly at the green velvet-lined tables. Trying to keep my presence on a low, I looked downwards using my eyes to follow the contours of the room. It wasn’t long before my eyes found their prey.

     He was a small, feeble looking man. Ironic for a being like himself to commit such a crime he had been labelled. He had short swept back blonde hair and a rather predominant nose. His eyes, unlike his wife’s, seemed of a doting nature as they lit generously the rest of his face. He smiled at a lady sitting next to him and then stood and walked into a corridor. Its destination I was unaware of. I followed Mr Sullivan nimbly into the tunnel of oblivion. It was barely visible inside and only with straining your eyes could u make out silhouettes of furniture and walls. The silence was stunning. Not a small whisper could be heard anywhere, making my job rather difficult. The seconds ticked away and at the same time, so did the distance from the doorway in which I first came through. Mr Sullivan seemed to have been swallowed by the silence and the darkness, making his whereabouts a mystery. It was then that I discovered the body lying motionless in a pool of blood on the stone floor. I looked cautiously around the room, realising that Mr Sullivan may have been murdered and if so, where was the culprit? Lurking around the next corner, but it being so dark, you don’t even know where the corner is. Or are they right behind you?

      I suddenly realised I needed to get myself out as soon as possible. I dashed frantically around the room, caressing each wall nervously trying to pinpoint some sort of light switch. It was hopeless. My desperation became noticeable as I broke out in a sweat and I wiped my shaking palms across my forehead. I slid my hands down my jacket, patting the linen material. The relief that hugged my body was immense when I discovered a lighter, which seemed to be eaten by my pocket. Using the light, I made my way back to the entrance in efforts to get some help.

    Days passed and it was confirmed that Mr Sullivan had been murdered by the aid of a candlestick. I became restless. I was oblivious to everything. There were no clues. Nothing to lead me to suspect anyone of such a crime or to Mr Sullivan’s affairs. If he did commit adultery; was the murder caused by a violent rage of jealousy or spite by one of his lovers, or was it nothing more than a poor innocent man being cruelly snatched from time.

    Meanwhile, Mrs Sullivan alike the past week, was sprawled seductively on the chaise lounge. However this time, she sat in a helpless and pathetic wreck. Rivers of tears flowed out of her eyes, as if her eyes were two huge seas. ‘Mrs Sullivan, I am so sorry for all of this. I don’t know what to say.’ I said sympathetically, stretching out my arm in a comforting fashion. ‘The truth of the matter is, there is nothing you can say,’ she said looking up at me with large rounded eyes soaking in water, ‘but there is something you can do,’ she continued taking my hand and placing it on her soft cheeks. Slowly, she leaned in towards me, gently closing her eyes and plumping her lips. ‘I am truly sorry, but I don’t make up for unsuccessful work by sleeping with the client. I have done all that is in my power, and perhaps with some more work I can indeed find out if your husband was having an affair,’ I exclaimed in shock.

‘Hahhahah,’ she laughed sarcastically and with a glare of evil, ‘you won’t find anything! Hahahah. You really think that pathetic excuse for a man could indulge in adultery because my my if he did I would throw him a party.’

‘What are you talking about Mrs Sullivan?’ I stated in a confused manner.

‘Please, call me Mary,’ she replied again leaning in towards me intimately.

‘Mary, what are you talking about?’

‘I know all about you Roger, age, birthplace, partners, everything you ever did is recorded like a novel in my mind. I’ve been following you ever since my husband and I moved here in 1954. In fact, I feel as though I’m a part of you. Hehehhe. Oh don’t look so shocked dear…if I were you I’d be flattered, having such an attractive woman following you like a puppy dog.’

‘I don’t quite understand I am afraid. I think you are in too much of a state of shock, perhaps we should talk at a later date when u become saner.’ I nervously stuttered, now completely puzzled and even a little bit frightened. ‘No I’m making sense, I am talking only the truth. You see you may not have noticed, but we’re soul mates, I am in love with you, and I know you feel the same about me. That’s why I knew we had to be together. I only came here to be noticed by you and of course I had to have a story. So I made up my husband was having an affair and then led you to the casino where I would murder him and then you would be there to rescue me and we could grow old together in one another’s arms. We can do that now, don’t you see. I am no longer married, I’m widowed. Oh I love you,’ she said like a crazed animal throwing herself into my arms