Dresses and Blades

The phone rang early that morning. Sasha rolled to the other side of the bed, jarred from her sleep, and picked the call.

"Good morning, Sash. Just calling to tell you Tola and I are going to the park this afternoon. Is that okay with you?" Her aunt's voice drifted over the line, and Sasha smiled at the mention of her daughter.

"It's alright, thanks Aunt D. Send Tola my love. I really appreciate you doing this for me."

"How is the case going? Have you found him?" She asked in true Aunt D fashion, brushing away thanks as easily as they were given.

Sasha felt her smile wipe off as frustration hit her with full force. "Not yet. I don't think we ever will. The department wants to close the case because we're are not getting anywhere, and it's getting too expensive."

Her aunt tutted in sympathy. "You'll find him dear, murderers always slip up one way or the other. I have to go now, Tola wants pancakes, and you know how she gets when hunger strikes."

They said their goodbyes, and Sasha headed to what she thought would be an unproductive day at work. Tola lingered on her mind, and she wished she wasn't so busy to take care of her daughter. But being a detective meant dangerous cases like the Silencer Murderers, and her daughter around was the last thing she wanted when working on them.

She worked hard, stopping only for a coffee break. As one of two left to solve the case, the workload was thrice as much and Sasha felt herself getting lost in the information – or lack of.

The murders had only one thing in common; there was a rose at each crime scene. They were made from black silk, and the local departmental store ordered her to return the following day – she was to look at the receipts of any fabric or dye sale.

It was tedious work, and Sasha forced herself to stop when rayon and retayne made no difference. She looked at the remaining receipts she had left and decided to call it a day, choosing to look through them at home. It was going to be a long night.

She chose to meet up with her partner at a cafe, mulling over the case details. They were military men, and had all bled out before help could be gotten. The autopsies had not yet been carried out, and she knew they wouldn’t. These men were not high ranking officials, and had no family to fight for them.

She felt responsible for them. Being murdered in uniform deeply saddened her for reasons she could not explain. A shudder wracked through her body as she remembered the sprawled bodies and surprised faces. They did not know what was coming for them. The uniforms had been matted with blood, the red a flood that covered their bellies.

Sasha hastened her steps towards the cafe, trying to grasp at information she was sure was eluding her. There were no obvious stab wounds, but that did not mean they were not stabbed. The killer could not be found even though there was one.

She slipped in, her eyes landing on her partner even as he waved her over. She joined him, and blurted out her theory.

“What if our guy is actually a ghost?”

Wes looked at her concerned, and started slowly, “Maybe you should take a break.”

She rolled her eyes and continued, “What if he did not actually stay to stab them? What if he did it, and they did not know?”

“I’m trying to think of something snarky to say, but I can’t. Sweetie, you cannot stab a person without them knowing.”

“You can. They were killed in uniform. They all had belts. Where was the most blood?”

Her partner answered thoughtfully, “Their bellies. You think the belts killed them?”

“Exactly!”

“The belts are very well fitted. If something is off with them, it will be obvious.”

Sasha removed a hair pin from her tresses and waved it in his face. “If it’s a thin blade, no. It’ll fit right in the belt and- “

“- the belt when worn will fit right on the stomach. The tightness will push the blade further in. They were already dead before they knew.”

She nodded, and went on, “But who did it?”

“Someone who knows them well, I guess?”

“Maybe an employee. But a connection to all the victims seems unlikely.”

“If it’s through an agency, it isn’t. I’ll check them out tomorrow.”

“Focus on the housekeeper. That’s easier access to clothes.”

Wes nodded his assent, and after gulping her coffee, Sasha hurried home.

  Sighing, she climbed the first step of her apartment while rifling through her purse for her keys. With a murmur of victory, Sasha found them, so occupied with opening the door, she almost missed the black rose on her porch.

She half expected her heart to come out of her throat and land on the floor in a bloody mess. Sasha bolted into the house, locked the doors and gave a little scream when her phone rang. With shaky fingers, she picked.

“Hello?” Unsteady. She forced herself to breathe.

She lost her breath when the caller replied. “Sasha. How’s the rose? Satin is a bit harder to manipulate.”

“What do you want?” Her voice was still unsteady. She got a notepad and pen. They shook terribly.

“I have a message for you, Sasha. You’ve done all this investigating and not minding your business, and your bosses are impressed.” An angry petulant tone crept into her voice and she suddenly screeched, “But nobody is looking at me! If nobody dies, you’re nothing, I deserve some credit!”

“What is your message?”

“Don’t be dumb, you’re not going to hear it on the phone. The message is in room 37 of Twin Swords. I suggest you go there now.” The call ended with a definite click, and with a frantic call to Wes, Sasha bolted out the door, gun in pocket.

Twin Swords was in the seedier part of town, and Sasha walked into the hotel and flew up the stairs without being checked by the receptionist, Wes hot on her heels. The door to Room 37 stood slightly ajar, and she stepped in cautiously, gun outstretched. This is it, she thought.

Her eyes did a quick sweep of the room and the gun dropped from her hands as she took in the scene.

Aunt D stood in front of Sasha, a very thin blade in her hands. It dripped with blood. Blood Sasha refused to associate with the dead body of her child on the carpeted floor.