Forever Is A Long Story

By E.E.Lewis

Mystery / Romance

Unravelling The Truth

Unknown: When you're tangled up in confusion, there's a good chance you're busy unraveling the truth.

It was hidden well from whoever it was kept from, but not well enough for the infamous immortal to discover it with the help of his partner. Staying on the cool wooden floor, they broke the small lock and opened the diary, revealing its white pages full of secrets and thoughts. They sifted through it together, reading all of the victim's thoughts from the past year, trying to find any detail of who her killer might be. It was quite difficult since she never put the people's real names. It was probably to keep her secrets to herself, just in case anyone―like them for instance―read her private book of memories. Many of the pages stretched on from weeks to months, blabbing on about gossip, everyday activities, and 'women' problems. For instance, complaining about PMS, her weight, or the wrinkles she did not have. It was clear to see the woman was a worrier on the inside, not that she would have shown it to anyone. The diary didn't indicate any best friends at work or anywhere else. Everyone loved her, but she wasn't one to make friends, only friendly acquaintances. Her life seemed lonely, but how she wrote, it didn't seem she felt that way. She actually appeared rather happy. Henry felt his heart throb for a second, why did all the happy people have to be murdered? Couldn't murderers kill other murderers? If only life was that simple.

They had finally arrived at the week before her awfully poisonous demise. That's when her life started to get rocky. The certain point in time when they figured that one event changed her life, for the worst.

*I can't believe what I saw, I don't want to believe it, but I simply cannot forget about it and go on with my life. I am going to talk to him, it's a disgrace to cheat with another woman. I thought he was gentle, kind and trustworthy, but I guess not. How dare he lie to those he loves the most? I will not let him continue parading around like this. Every time I see him, I do not dare look at him in the eyes. He doesn't know that I know yet, so best be on guard. Tonight I will go and tell him, I am not letting him get away with anything, even though there will be many consequences and not only for me.*

Jo then read the entry right after, which was also the last entry before her death. It was like reading her farewell note, just that Allison did not know when she wrote it.

*I told him I knew and he didn't seem at all mad or nervous as I had first thought. Maybe I was lucky. He actually thanked me and told me that he was doing something wrong and was going to stop his philandering. I didn't want to believe him at first, but he sounded so sincere. We're going to talk about it again, like he asked, after he has finished working downtown. I am happy that this dilemma has turned out nicely and no problems have arisen out of it. *

The duo looked at each other, mouths agape. They finally found the motive, but whose was it?

"I see we have found the culprit, but it's such a bad motive. Killing because Allison knew of an affair." Jo pointed out, standing up. "I'm going to call Hanson." She pulled out her phone, holding it to her ear. "Hey, it's Martinez, we found the culprit it's…"

Hanson knocked on the door, pounding since it took long to open up. "This is the police open up!"

"Calm down! I'm coming!" A grouchy voice echoed from within the house, footsteps getting louder. The door flung open and a man with bags under his eyes and a bathrobe opened up. "What?"

Hanson kept a serious face, looking the man right in the eyes. "Anthony Dale, you are under arrest for the murder of your wife, Allison Dale. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you, you have the right to one phone call, which I dare to say will not help." The handcuffs were on and Anthony was in a fit.


Hanson just smirked as he shoved the man into his police car. "Now what you have just said can be used against you."

They were once again in the interrogation room, sitting face to face in eerie silence. "You killed her, and the motive seems to talk for itself. Also, you had ample amount of time to kill her, and then meet up with your friend after. All we need is a confession, or do we need to go and waste our time to find some proof?"

"I am not guilty. Woman, I do not know why you think I did it. Why would I?" The man banged his fist down, almost making a dent in the table.

As the detective and her interrogate battled it out, Henry watched, but something was bugging him. Something was disturbing him, like everything was wrong. Jo was sure they had the killer, but Henry wasn't too sure about that. He didn't want to tell Jo that she wasn't doing her job right, so he decided to do some searching on his own…First he needed to read Allison's diary again, he was positive they had read it incorrectly and declared the wrong person having the affair. Allison wasn't talking about her husband, she was talking about another man.

He sat at Jo's desk, opening Allison's diary which he took without asking, but he still did not call his actions stealing. He re-read the last two paragraphs, trying to find a clue on the true killer. He then saw it, one word that changed everything. He instantly switched the computer on, doing a back-ground check on someone. He never liked computers, but he made an exception.

After searching for answers to connect with his questions, he had cracked the case. He knew who killed Allison Dale and had the perfect plan to catch the murderer along with a key piece of evidence.

After Jo stepped out of the room with a worn expression, she immediately saw Henry and let out a loud sigh, looking defeated. "What plan do you have in mind?"

"What do you mean? I haven't said anything yet." Henry asked innocently.

"I know that look. It's the look you make when you are about to close one of my cases. You know who the killer is don't you?" Jo huffed comically, crossing her arms.

'You caught me." He put his hands up in surrender. "But, I need your help." He asked.

"Will I regret it afterwards? Because most of your genius ideas never go as planned." The homicide detective pointed out.

"Sincerely not. This plan of mine is very safe indeed…the only thing I need is a warrant. Got any of those lying around? Actually I might need two, and we don't have really any evidence to ask for one. So, I'm leaving it all up to you." He patted her back. "Call me when you have them." He started to leave, Jo yelling after him.

"Aren't you going to tell me anything? I have a right to know. It is my case." She grunted, leaning heavily on the side of her desk.

"All in due time. Anyway detective…don't you find the suspense exhilarating? Besides, I want to be completely sure. Of course, I probably am." He straightened his scarf, donning a prideful leer.

"Fine. Leave me alone then, I have to figure out a way to receive two warrants. I will need to know where. You do know that." She commented, sitting down at her work station. "I guess I will not get the chance to feel the exhilarating sensation of suspense after all." She grimaced with sarcasm dripping out of her mouth.

"Indeed. You are right." He took a small sheet of paper out of his inner coat pocket. "Voila." He handed it to her, she glanced at it with surprise.

"Really? He's the killer?" She asked skeptically, laying the piece of paper on her desk. "Alright. I'll contact you when I have received the warrants. You better be right." Jo said sternly.

"Don't worry friend, you won't regret listening to me." He told her with assuredness.

"Oh, and Henry."


"Don't wonder off and get yourself into trouble. I don't want to go meet you by the port. Nor bailing you out of jail for unruly nudity and bathing in the Hudson River…again." Martinez sternly obliged, rather than requested.

"I'll be quiet as a mouse." Henry promised, index finger hovering millimetres from his purposely pursed lips. "Won't move from Abe's Antiques. My son will see to it personally."

The detective let out a stifled groan, contemplating whether keeping her eyes off him would be the soundest choice. She let her eyes close for a second, pinching the edge of her nose for a sense of revelation. "Fine. If I find out you got into trouble or died. I will shoot you. Understand? I can't do what I have to do if you start meddling with things by yourself. Now go. Before I change my mind. I still have no clue how I'm supposed to get these warrants." She mumbled, more to herself. "This might take all night…"

Knowing he was not needed or wanted, Henry snuck away, taking a taxi home. As his foot entered the automobile his heart tightened, releasing a strong, but not lasting, feeling of acute anxiety. He did not want to be victim to Adam's taxi services a third time. Once had already been enough. Twice was barely sufferable for an immortal like himself. A third time would just push him off the psychological edge of madness. If not more than he was already.

Glancing at the front mirror by the driver's seat, a Jamaican visage was seen. The cabby was definitely not Henry’s extended lifetime enemy. Unless he found a way to change his face. He assumed this matter was not the case. This yellow car belonged to a long bony Jamaican working to earn a balanced living. The blood to his heart pumped slower, his heart rate diminishing. His slight panic attack was over. He readjusted his scarf for a sense of comfort and the man's courage had returned.

Paying the fee, he exited the vehicle, sending the cab off with a pat on its sleek roof. The waiting period had commenced. He hated not being able to help, but getting warrants were not in his jurisdiction. Jo was also probably more convincing than he when she wanted to. He had faith that she would come out on top with two warrants in hand. When life gave her lemons…lemonade was always the result. She was able to do anything she put her mind to and he respected her for that. More than he thought.

A jingle was heard throughout the store, an hour before closing at seven and the owner turned his head from the morning paper that was settled flat-out on the counter next to the cash register. A welcoming smile donning the man's wizened face. "Oh, it's just you Henry."

"Now Abe. Not happy to see old dad?" Henry asked, acting offended by putting a hand to his chest in utter (fake) disbelief.

"No…I mean yes. I'm just surprised. Aren't you working on a case? Poison was it?"

"Cyanide." Henry responded.

"Yes, yes now I remember. You just usually come home later when you're smack bang in the middle of a murder investigation. Already ate, but there are leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry." He sat back down on the stool he was resting upon, pushing up his reading glasses with the tips of his fingers. Eyes flicking down to the newspaper, then back to his father. Doing two things simultaneously which usually aggravated the much older man in the room. Older than most of the antiques.

"I'll eat soon. And for me being here early, I was kicked out. I was not needed for the moment. Mostly phone calls and paperwork. Oh and I know who the killer is. I feel the urge to settle it right now but I mustn't. The Detective has spoken. I am not allowed to get into mischief or go sleuthing by myself until a warrant is received." Henry explained, placing his coat on the rack along with his scarf.

"Why is it I believe that you will do the exact opposite and get into serious trouble? Like being hit by a bus or stabbed? Death follows you like the black plague back in your day…" His voice trailed off, ending with hilarity.

Henry produced a muffled scoff. "I'm not that old Abe. You're off a couple of centuries. I have lived through many epidemics. The influenza, polio…cholera…" He refrained from speaking, his corneas starting to shine, remembering all the people he couldn't save. Catching the breath he seemed to have forgotten, he continued. "Death follows me since I have chosen to help the dead today and the sick in the past. I have come to see it as something I have put upon myself. They say we cannot control death. It still stands, except for me and my immortality. One day I will figure out how this curse can become a gift." Henry looked down, watching his hands like they contained an unimaginable power (which was half-correct). He perked up adding. "And I will show you, son. I am able to restrain myself from leaving this house. I have enough patience to last a few life times." He tried to say without any doubt, but failed. Even his own mind was second-guessing the words that were rattling his vocal chords.

"Do you want me to lock the door and hide the key?" Abe smirked, stepping out from behind the counter, pushing the wooden stool underneath.

"If you don't mind." The medical examiner answered with a certain disappointed look.

"Thought so. If that doesn't work, then I don't know what will." He said, shaking his head amusingly. *Click* Doors locked. *Click* Shop lights out. All Henry had to do was wait for one simple phone call. It was harder than it looked.

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