Claire drives hastily to her building and abandons her car in the parking lot without locking it. Instead of waiting for the lift, she takes upstairs. Adrenaline secreted by the adrenal medulla seems to be the major fluid running in her vessels, not the blood. The hormone keeps her focused on her target ignoring the protests from a tired body.
Proving her mother-like deity is more important for her than any other feeling. After all, we live for our family. Claire knew that Jo had two kids who were living with her ex-husband. She also knew the case of Keil Hamilton’s suicide. She was offered to look into it but she passed it to Musk. He asked her to take that case because he loved talking nonsense about a broken lover. And why won’t he? He himself was one.
How troubled the case seems now! Mayra was a disaster and even her brother said she deserved to die. Maybe she did. Poor Keil! He fell in her trap. Poor Mr and Mrs Hamilton! They never recovered from Keil’s death and her sister, she started taking drugs. Everything is so fussy in this case. If only she didn’t see that file that day then all this mess would be out of her mind. That day when she entered the police station, she saw the file of Mayra’s case on his desk. She was about to walk away when her eyes fell on a picture kept beside it. It said ‘ARON BROWN: PRIME SUSPECT’. It got her senses high and the rest is well known. She took the case and rowed her boat to the middle of the whirlpool.
Claire closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Her erratic heartbeat reaches her eardrum and hits hard to awaken her slumbered fear. The girl who never cared is now struggling to keep the only people she cared about, safe.
She rings the doorbell and waits for it to open and reveal the confessions hidden in a corner. She takes deep breaths and twists the broach that Aron had gifted her the night he took her to the beach. She smiles at the butterfly on her coat when the door flies open to reveal Jo in her nightdress with a coffee mug in her left hand. She is left-handed.
“Having a company?” Claire asks knowing Jo prefers coffee only when she has a company.
“Umm, no,” Jo replies, laughing it off. She closes the door and guides Claire to the sofa. “I am very sorry about Aron.” Jo starts but Claire gets up from her seat and walks to the kitchen. Jo follows her with amusement and puts her mug in the sink.
“You don’t need to be sorry, I got the killer,” Claire speaks and Jo stops dead n her track. She quickly hides her shocked expression and asks casually, “So who is she?”
“She? I never told you that the killer is female?” Claire asks staring at her knife collection and notices a missing knife that she pointed out the next day Mayra was killed.
Jo laughs nervously and shakes her head. “I am getting old. Nevermind, who’s he?”
But instead of replying, Claire just walks to the knives kept impressively to show off their values. She points to the empty shelf and asks, “Where’s that big sharp knife?”
Jo gets tensed and stammers. “I-I lost it.”
Claire laughs with dark humour and Jo’s hair rises with goosebumps. She tilts close to Jo and accuses her. “You lost your knife? What kind of detective are you?”
“I-I don’t really remember.” Jo stutters and turns to hold the sink with her chest rising and falling with the deep breaths she takes to calm her down. “I am getting old.”
Claire laughs again and with a smirk, she turns Jo sharply to face her. “Oh, you do remember.” And she walks closer to Jo to trap her against the wall. “You used it to kill Mayra.”
“No! I didn’t.” She yells, quickly denying the blame. Be it a detective, policeman or a murderer, the fear of being caught for your deed is the same.
“Yes, you did,” Claire repeats to make her confess and to force herself into believing the reality in front of her eyes.
Jo closes her eyes and slowly her expression changes. Her parted lips come close and curl into a smirk. She opens her bloodshot eyes, raising her eyebrow.
Claire notices the sudden change and moves back to turn when something hard hits her head. Night closes in for her and everything turns black.
Jo takes a deep breath and cracks her knuckles. With a smirk, she puts her foot on Claire’s hair and says, “Yes, I killed Mayra.”
So......how was it?
I am so nervous. I hope you’ll love it. Just don’t kill me.
Thanks for reading!