The Red Scarf With Blue Frills.

Written in response to: Write a story where a particular piece of clothing appears three times.... view prompt


Crime Fiction Mystery

"On Saturday, April 2, at eight o'clock in the morning, there was a woman with a red scarf with blue frills entered the Citizen Road Mall. The woman shopped in three different stores, buying three random pieces of clothing. She was wearing mismatched clothes. But after ten o'clock in the morning, there is no more footage of her. At ten-fifteen o'clock in the morning, she was reported dead in the woman's bathroom. The woman had a large tote bag. Those are facts." I say. "We see no signs of other people physically harming her, except for the gun wound on her right side. The questions are: who shot this woman and what time did they do it? Who could be a witness? Was this suicide? And why did they shoot this woman?" I finish. The room is silent.

"Let us explore the tote." Everyone in the bag nods in agreement. With that, we open the tote. In the tote, there are on top of the three things she bought. Then normal things, like water and shopping bags. A small makeup bag. Lotion, wallet, a phone. There is nothing else. "This confirms this could not be suicide, as there is no gun in her bag and there was no gun on site. This was indeed a murder." The people in the room nod their heads in agreement. They exit the room. This is one of the major things that we needed to actually know. Because now we were on the hunt for a murderer. No longer just a suicide case, as sad as that would be. But now there could be more to soon follow. I could just hope for that not to happen. I mean, it would almost be their blood on my hands. Not a good look for the detective.

That I would catch them first. The rest of the people left. I called the police station. "It was a murder. No gun in the tote. None on scene. The murderer has it." I hear some language from the chief. I let it slide. He was my friend at this point. After all, we had been through a lot because there were so many times we had worked together. At last, he says fine and hangs up. I put the phone down, and I get in my car. I go back to the crime scene. There is no footage, as it is a bathroom. I looked again. The mall was shut down, until next week. She died only yesterday. We arrived too late. The person who called the person and reported accordingly was scared and panicking because of the dead body. They were just going to freshen up and she was fixing her makeup when she saw in the mirror her dead body. The murderer was either then female or really good at pretending to be female.

A month passed. I had two leads but then had to go to the funeral. It would make the family feel better. A lot of tears, but going to be worth it. The family also invited the person who reported it. I picked her up, and then we drove there. She was such a dear about all of it. But when we got back in the car, she was crying a little. I knew it was sad, but she only knew her because she was dead. I assured her she was fine, that she did the right thing. But then she started crying harder, insisting on going home. I took her home and gave her a hug. She pushed me away. She looked as if she was going to say something else afterward, but she chose not to. She looked so sad. I started calling to check in on her often. She really needed somebody to talk to about the whole thing.

And she trusted me. But after having a few conversations on the topic I started to grow suspicious. She told me what time she entered the bathroom, which was confusing. When she was reported, only ten minutes later, she was dead. I started to review the evidence. I just needed proof now. I started recording evidence. I went to her house, telling her I was cleaning it for her while she was at work. She felt like she was drowning, of guilt I believe. But after I would actually clean, I would search. I, at last, found the gun. The same one shoots the same type of bullets. I had my killer. Who would have known that the reporter of it was also the murderer? The murderer attended their funeral. I also found her scarf. Her body was not found with that.

The next day I went to a judge and showed all the evidence. Lawyers got involved, and my last piece of evidence was that scarf. I think that's when the jury knew she did it. And she had a life sentence. She screamed at me. Fought. But in the end, she went to jail. Another case was settled. I visited her in jail once. She was not thrilled. But I still had one question left burning. "Why did you kill her? Why did you decide that was who you were going to be?" I ask her. She looks mad and leans forward. I knew so little about her, truly I did not know much. So I knew that I had to know. Even if I wasn't supposed to.

"I was an orphan. I had nothing. I earned something. And I knew how much she had compared to me. She stole money from me it felt. So I knew ending her was the best way it should be. Her dead, and me the murderer. As bad as it may sound, I still think I did the right thing." She said. Then she stood and left. Well, at least she told me. Euphoria. Something that could make you go mad. Something that could make you a murderer. Someone who could have had it all as well, ruined it so she could feel better. Depressing.

May 09, 2022 23:04

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