The news of Jonathan Walters' murder spread round Chesterfield Springs faster than wildfire in autumn. Being the small town that it was, nothing as grave as a murder could be kept as a secret for long without someone finding out about it somehow. And when they did, they made sure everyone else found out as well.
It was soon the number one item in the local news channel, found it's way into the front pages of the newspapers, and was being broadcasted by radio stations. Before noon, a day after the incident, everyone in Chesterfield Springs knew about Jonathan Walters' sudden passing. Joshua turned off his car radio after hearing the name 'Johnathan Walters' for the 5th time in the past hour. He shook his head as he pulled up in the parking lot of the Chesterfield Springs police department. He had no idea how things were being run here, he only got transferred in a couple of weeks ago. The request for more 'seasoned' crime detectives had prompted his abrupt arrival to the little town. One would have expected an experienced expert in his prime, like he was, to be filled with aghast and anger when taken from a bubbly city like New York to a sleepy little town like Chesterfield Springs that couldn't be found on the map without a little struggle. Surprisingly, he wasn't. He'd grown sick of the big city life, the everyday stress and trauma it threw at unsuspecting people. Despite being sent here for work, Joshua saw it as his little get away. He'd done enough for the big boys, now it was time to help the little guys steady their ship. So far, he'd been involved in meagre tasks: a missing person's case (which was actually a missing cat), two robbery attempts at a grocery store, and an attempted kidnap case. Otherwise, it was rather peaceful in Chesterfield. This was the first serious case he'd been assigned to since he arrived, and from the looks of things, this seemed like the first time the inhabitants of Chesterfield had such a case. "Heh, no." Tracy swivelled round on her seat and rolled it closer to her table. She rested her elbow on it and propped her head up with her hand. "This isn't Chesterfield's first murder case." She smirked at the surprised young man at her desk. The sweet scent of brewed coffee hung low and thick within the walls of Tracy's office. It was a small, neat space that suited her style and preference. Brown was the dominant colour, with the cabinet, table, chairs and the wooden coat rack on the wall all bearing the resemblance. The walls wore a lemon coat of paint, making sure the room had more than a boring uniform look to it. Her waxed oak table bore some neatly stacked files, an open journal with black cursive penmanship, two plastic cups of coffee, and a small frame holding the black-and-white picture of a smiling young man. Behind her grand chair was a large window that generously occupied the space between the ceiling and the tiled floor. The curtains were laid back, blinds were flipped open, allowing rich sunlight to illuminate the room. Joshua sat on a brown metal-framed chair, staring at Tracy's smug face. She was definitely in a better mood than last night. "What do you mean by 'not Chesterfield's first murder'?" As glad as he was that she woke up on the good side of the bed, he couldn't comprehend why she spoke about people getting away with murder with so much ease. "What I mean is people have been killed in several, and sometimes more gruesome, ways in this town. At least, that's what the records say. The police usually try to investigate such matters the moment they arise, but due to lack of evidence and sometimes uncooperative witnesses and suspects, the case usually develops to a cold lead before long." Joshua sat up in his seat suddenly. He gave Tracy looks so weird that she began to squirm in her seat. "What?" She asked defensively. "What the records say." Joshua repeated. "So, you're not from around here?" Tracy's laugh reminded Joshua of an innocent teenage girl. Highly pitched and completely adorable. She fell back on her seat and continued to release pearls of laughter. Even Joshua began to grin. "I'm . . . I'm sorry," she was still chuckling. When the laughter finally subsided, she looked at Joshua with laughter still in her eyes. "You actually thought you were the only one brought in from the city. Shame." She chuckled again and reached for a cup of coffee. "Huh." Joshua began to see her differently following her revelation. He now understood why she wanted to wait by the roadside for a taxi after they'd left the crime scene. Only after he convinced her that she wouldn't see any until dawn that she agreed to ride with him. She was an outsider, like he was. Only he'd been in Chesterfield a couple of weeks longer. Despite that, she thought it wise to go through the past records. Funny how he never thought of that, he'd instinctively coined the town as peaceful and quiet. Oh, well. Never judge the taste of the melon by the size. Or whatever Barack Obama said. "The reports from the forensic team came in this morning." Tracy lifted a brown box from the ground and placed it on the table. "Well, that was quick." Joshua remarked. "The data from the blood analysis and fingerprint tracing might take a little longer." "Spoke too soon." Joshua plopped back on his seat. Tracy smiled as she rummaged through the box. "The autopsy report came back ready, though." She handed a sheet of paper to Joshua. He took it and quickly scanned through. "Died from medication misuse and possible overdose?" Joshua read aloud in disbelief. He waved the paper at Tracy. "How does this explain the strangulation marks we saw?" He demanded. "Strangulation was part of the reason he died, but it wasn't the original instigator. The doses were already deep into his system, causing serious damage. He would've died with or without being strangled." Tracy only answered absentmindedly. She was trying to offload an item carefully from the box. "Still doesn't explain why he was choked to death," retorted Joshua. "Well, that's why they brought us here. Right? To find out the why's and how's." She finally pulled out what she'd been struggling with. Tracy placed the silver laptop on the table, in front of Joshua. She dropped the box back on the ground and stood with both palms faced down on the table. "Remember the laptop we found under the mattress?" Joshua sat forward and opened it slowly. It was already switched on, with the desktop icons scattered all over the screen. The background image was a beach with ocean waves lapping on it. "I thought they'd also analyse this for evidence." Joshua said. "They actually did. Sorta." Tracy went round the table to Joshua's end, and bent into the laptop. Struggling to ignore her perfume, he watched as she navigated her way into one of the numerous icons. "After cracking the lock code, they proceeded to look through everything in the system," she explained. "Turns out Johnathan was a writer. He had copies of several e-books that were saved in virtual files. Funny enough, these were never submitted for publishing. Seems like he was just the kind who wrote leisurely." Tracy tapped away at the keys while Joshua just stared at the screen. Inside the icon, she scrolled through what looked like hundreds of files until she stopped at one. She clicked on it and the screen went blank for a second. Then it came back to life, revealing a long text of typed words arranged in paragraphs. "Each of the files have a time stamp on them, showing the date and time they were saved." Tracy continued. She stood up straight and pointed at the screen. "This one was saved at 7:56pm, on the 15th of July, 2021." Joshua's brows knitted together. Then his eyes widened. "That was yesterday! Hours before his death!" "Exactly." Tracy walked back to her seat with a triumphant look. Joshua could feel his heart racing already. Their first real clue! Surely something in that laptop could point them in the direction they needed to go. They just needed to find it. Just then, his phone buzzed with an alarm. "We've got to go see the family of Johnathan Walters." He said, without looking up from his phone. He stood up watching Tracy's expression change to confusion. "Just basic questioning. Nothing serious." He explained. "We can check this out on the way," he added as grabbed the laptop from her table. ★ "We sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may cause, but we do have a few questions to ask, regarding your son's death." They sat at the back porch of the white Southern themed bungalow, overlooking a backyard of neatly trimmed carpet grass and a peach tree. The lady seated before them simply dabbed her eyes repeatedly with tissue, cleared her throat, and responded with a nod. "Now, we never really had a chance to meet Johnathan when he was alive. So, could you kindly tell us what he was like? The kind of job he did? The people he was involved with?" The lady shivered at the questions. She looked like she approached her mid-seventies, with her snow white hair getting tussled by the wind. Her aged features surprisingly showed little wrinkles, presumably the effects of a super attentive skin care routine. Although Joshua could still spot the dark circles under her dim blue eyes. It'd be impossible to stay glamorous after hearing about the death of your first child. "John was different," she began, while staring into space. "Right from his childhood, his area of interests differed from the rest of his peers. From his siblings as well. Most parents in Chesterfield pressure their kids to aim for the big important professions, just so that they can have the opportunity to leave this town. While a few return to pay service to their homeland, others decide to stay in the big cities and only decide to visit occasionally. "John was the kind that returned fully to live and work here. The only one of my children that decided to do that." "Sorry to interrupt you, ma'am." Joshua cut in. "But how many kids do you have?" "Three boys, two girls." She answered swiftly. She sipped tea from her porcelain cup and placed it back on the saucer resting on her lap. All while looking into space. "And where are they now, Mrs. Walters?" "Who knows these days?" She asked back with a little shrug. "Last I recall, Michael was having a little getaway at an island somewhere in the Caribbean. He'd always complained of how strenuous his job could be and how he needed to recharge his batteries." "And what exactly does he do?" Tracy was leaving no stone unturned. "Affiliate marketing." Her tone had a hint of pride in it. "He often remarks on how profitable it is. Pays for all his "toys" and some of mine." "Huh." Tracy's hand moved with agility as she scribbled in her notepad. "How about your other children?" Joshua pressed. "Any idea as to where they could be?" Margaret Walters tilted her head slightly to one side, appearing to be in deep thought. "Jennifer works as a surgical consultant for a private hospital in the UK. Martha, my second daughter, lives in Brazil with her husband who's a civil engineer. My last child, Daniel, is a movie producer working on a project in Maldives." Mrs. Walters rose from her chair and walked to the edge of the porch. She stood with her manicured hands placed behind her, staring ahead into nothingness. "Like I said, John was the only one who decided to come back here to settle down. And now . . ." She made a small choking sound, which tore at Joshua's heart. "Now look at what my boy has become."Joshua stretched out, releasing a long, tiring yawn that depicted his exhaustion. He stepped out of the bathroom and made his way to his wardrobe, walking past the large mirror he'd hung on his wall, close to the entrance leading to the bedroom. Pausing suddenly, he backtracked and stood right in front of the reflective glass. He was almost taller than the mirror stood, with the top of his blonde head most definitely cropped out. He had a muscular kind of build that was difficult to hide in most outfits, even the large ones. He gazed at the bulging veins that roped around his forearms and into his biceps, flexing them a bit for the fun of it. His head bore solid jawlines, sparse facial hair on the chin and upper lip, a straight nose, and blue tired eyes. To any beholder, they'd say he was a perfect model. To him, he reckoned he didn't look too bad, but he wasn't a hottie either. Especially now that he knew he was stressed as hell. After putting on a sleeveles
“Richard laughed at the answer a student gave to his question. The class also roared in laughter, with students pounding the desks in amusement. The culprit, however, just sat there and flashed a big smile. Richard kept chuckling when he heard a tap on the classroom door. The Principal stood there, also wearing a smile. ‘I see you guys are having a good time,’ he remarked. He beckoned to Richard to come closer. ‘I'm just going to borrow Mr. Richard for a couple of minutes. Hope you guys don't mind?’ The Principal left without waiting for a reply from the students, with his palm on Richard's back. ‘They're really enjoying themselves,’ he observed, still wearing his smile. ‘That's the best way to get their attention,’ Richard replied. ‘Making them understand that learning shouldn't be a chore. It should be fun.’ ‘That's why we have you in this department, Richard.’ The voice came from behind both men in the large hallway. Richard turned to face the ori
“Richard fixed his stare on his hands, fiddling with them nervously. He sat alone in Philip's office with the loud voices of children reaching him from outside. Lunch break, he remembered with a smile. He could see some students walking past the window, engaging in the most interesting conversation to them. It made him remember what it was like when he was here, not as a teacher but a student. More than thirty years ago. He barely had friends, he recalled. Most of them labelled him as weird and uncomfortable to be with. He'd soon grown accustomed to it, and even enjoyed it most times, seeking to remain on his own at every given point. That was until he met Charles Vincent in the 9th grade. It still surprised him how the vitality of the most popular kid in class back then rubbed off him. Richard the loner, being friends with Charles the Popular. A very unlikely and awkward match up of personalities. But it was real, his best moments of high school.
Joshua rapped on the door for the fifth time. He looked around the empty hallway and shivered at the silence. If he didn't see people down the lobby and outside the hotel, he'd have concluded that the building was completely deserted. No place occupied by a living person had the right to be this quiet. He thought about Tracy for the first time, and hoped she was faring better than he was. Joshua raised his fist to pound at the door this time, then stopped himself in time when he heard sounds from within. Rushed movements. A solid object hitting the ground. Some vile language from an exasperated voice. Then footsteps to the door. "Who's there?" For a moment, Joshua didn't know whether to say he was a cop, or to play it safe. A quick contemplation made him decide to stick to the truth. "I'm detective Joshua Mulligan, ma'am." He answered. "I'm investigating the death of Johnathan Walters and I'd like to ask a few questions." No reply came from within the room. "Can I c
"Well, that sounded like fun." "It wasn't so bad, actually. But I was really uncomfortable at first." "Why? Did she come at you?" "Tracy!" Her laugh boomed through the loudspeaker, and all over Joshua's living room. He simply shook his head as his partner continued to cackle mercilessly. "You're just exaggerating," he said. "No one came at anything." He picked up the bowl on his table and guided some noodles into his mouth using chopsticks. He closed his eyes and grinned widely. It was his first taste of noodles in ages, and he never knew he'd missed it that much. He had the chef of Springs Hotel to thank dearly. And Eleanor too. "If you say so, tough guy." She chuckled. "So, are you going to tell me what you fished out, or do I have to wring it out from you?" "I thought we were going with you first." "I've already spilled everything that needs to be spilled. Now it's your turn." Shuffling sounds were all over the background, maki
"How many days left?" "Four days, six hours, twenty-five minutes, and fifty seconds." Joshua glared at Tracy. She smiled sweetly back at him. "I preferred when you were brooding and quiet," he said with a frown. "No, you don't." Tracy said as-a-matter-of-fact. "Makes no difference that the case is about to be closed and we have next to no leads." "Yeah, that sucks." "Exactly." Tracy's office lacked its usual sunny appearance, mostly because it wasn't daytime anymore. The small bulbs embedded into the ceiling lit up the room in powerful fluorescent lights. A mess of papers and documents spread out all over her table, with some spilling over to the floor. But they didn't mind. They didn't bother to pick them up. They were simply . . . tired. "Who's missing from that list of the interrogated?" Tracy held up one of the numerous papers on her desk and peered into it. "We've covered Mrs. Walters, all the Walters' siblings
“Richard stepped into the bar quickly before the door slammed shut, with the cold gust of wind following him in. He felt the warmth almost instantly, in sharp contrast to the chilly atmosphere outside. The next thing to greet him was the cool, enticing music playing in the background. He almost found himself swaying to the saxophone medley as he slowly began to walk in. The lighting was low, so his eyes took some time to adjust. Then, he beheld the scenery in front of him with fascination. Round wooden tables were placed all around, with four wooden stools at each table, all arranged in such a way that one setup doesn't bump into another. And each one of these tables were occupied with people with the need to cool off after a long stressful day. Or, probably just people who wanted to chill and enjoy the beautiful winter evening. Up ahead, a long countertop with tall stools placed in front of it; for customers who wanted drinks straight from the waitresses at the co
"Welcome to Cyclone Bar. What can we offer you this lovely evening?" "Uhm—" Joshua's gaze shifted to Tracy. She, on the other hand, stared right back at him in ignorance. Realizing the game Tracy was playing, Joshua turned back to the waiter with confidence. "A bottle of ginger ale for the lady, and some punch for me." "Coming right up, sir." Joshua nodded at the waiter as he walked away, with approval written all over his face. "Smartly dressed and neat looking," he observed. "Nice." "The place is not bad either." Tracy added. "The population here seems modest, but optimum. You wouldn't want too many people in here with the limited number of tables. The drinks aren't too expensive, else these people would prefer buying from the convenience store. And the music is quite soothing to the ears, I must say. Quality stuff." Joshua stared at Tracy in disbelief, before breaking into a wide grin. "What are you? Some business analyst?" He c