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Thriller Fiction Crime

Priya

The radio is turned on and Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata is playing in the background. I am in a classical music mood and so I have turned on the only classical music radio channel that I could find. Listening to classical music soothes my brain, making me feel calm and rationale and I could think properly. I was in the kitchen, cooking, the smell of spicy chicken curry and basmati rice cooking in the rice cooker filling the whole kitchen. The soothing piano tunes coming from the piano is calming down my nerves.

Then I heard the knock on the door.

I sigh, wiping my hands on my apron before turning off the radio and then walking into the hallway to answer the door.

Oh dear, it's my nosy neighbor, Mrs. Jensen. Her face is filled with excitement and anxiety as if she really has some important news to share with me. Probably about some random stupid things about our neighbors in the apartment building.

"Mrs. Jensen," I remarked.

"Oh my, Priya did you hear the news?" she asked with a worried tone in her voice.

"News? What news?" I asked. My heart started beating and fluttering, as if butterflies are running around my body all at once.

"That supermodel, Deena? Her body was found this morning in the Central Park and apparently she was murdered--the poor girl is badly beaten that someone made her face into a pulp!" Mrs. Jensen shakes her head, as if she cannot believe that such cruelty exists in the world. "Luckily the police caught the murderer--it was her boyfriend, Max or something. He was also a model and he was the one who killed her--he confessed just hours ago..."

I blinked. "Wow." I replied back, unbelievably.

"Yes, anyway, I can smell something coming from the kitchen...are you cooking dear? Is your Ian coming tonight?" she asked in a teasing voice. "When are you both getting married? Ian is very wealthy and you can move in with him to his penthouse..."

"Yeah, actually, I am taking dinner over to Ian's, you know he is very busy with his work at his family's law firm...anyway Mrs. Jensen, I need to go back to the kitchen,"

"All right dear, I'll see--"

But I firmly closed the door, without slamming the door on her face. I quickly, walked back into the kitchen, taking out the Tupperware containers from the kitchen pantry cupboards.

My phone is beeping and I pick up my phone, realizing it's filled with text messages.

Priya, did you hear that Deena was murdered? my friend, Sophie had sent me a text.

I sent back a text message

I did. Can't believe that her own boyfriend would kill her.

I quickly log into Twitter and Instagram and skim through Deena's profile. Deena was very active on Instagram with over 1 million followers. And one of those followers was me. I click on her latest photograph, which was a photoshoot for a Vogue magazine taken in France.

Under the photo, was filled with condolences and grief messages from her fans.

Deena RIP

You don't deserve this! Justice for Deena! #JusticeForDeena

You should never have dated Max--he looks like a creep! #JusticeForDeena

RIP Deena, you were always one of my favorite models.

Max will go to hell! Deena RIP. #JusticeForDeena

Should I write something? I decided to check out Max's profile, who is also a model like Deena but not as famous as Deena. And of course, as expected, it's filled with hatred.

You will rot in hell Max! #JusticeForDeena

You are a loser, hypocrite who beats other women! You murderer! #JusticeForDeena

Deena deserved someone better than you. You are nothing but a creep and a loser. #JusticeForDeena.

I put my phone away and start packing up the dinner in the Tupperware containers. Basmati rice in one container and chicken curry in another container. Ian always want to pack the rice in a separate container and curry in another container. I also have bought strawberry cheesecake from Ian's favorite dessert place. It will be a romantic dinner, just the two of us, at his place. I then taken a bag and start packing up the containers into the bag. I turned on the radio again and Chopin's Funeral March is now playing in the radio. I pick my phone up and send a text message to Ian.

Will be there in twenty minutes.

Detective Katrina Reed

Katrina is watching Maxim Houghton through the observation window. For a murderer, he looks calm and quiet. It surprised Katrina that Maxim at once confessed that he killed the supermodel, Deena Kushner as he failed to provide an alibi and that many of the people and colleagues had seen him threatening Deena after a fashion show to the point that the security had to be called in to take him out of the place.

For her boss, Captain Reynolds, less paperwork and Deena's murder case made the list of the cases that were solved within a day. Katrina had seen numerous Deena's fans, demanding justice, that Maxim Houghton will be sentenced to death, even though the state of New York does not carry out death sentences anymore. Her boss even demanded maximum security for Maxim, afraid a crazy fan would do something to Maxim. For fans, Deena is a wonderful human being who is like the modern American version of Princess Diana, who was involved in a lot of charity work.

But deep in her mind, Katrina knew that Deena had a dark secret and that she was not all that innocent and kind as she looked to her fans.

Priya

Ian is staying at his holiday house about an hour away from New York. As I drive through the traffic, every radio channel is filled with Deena's murder case and Maxim's confession that people cannot talk about.

"Did you hear that about two weeks ago, just before Deena was murdered, the couple was having an argument so fiercely that the security had to be brought in to escort Maxim out of the show," one of the hosts was saying, in her sweet syrupy voice.

"Maxim apparently was known to have a temper and was controlling, according to one of Deena's friends, he had slapped her hard on her face at a party for a small thing," another one of the hosts was saying, her voice filled with disgust.

"Deena was apparently suffering from domestic abuse from Maxim, and it was one of those abuses that lead to Deena's death,"

I listened as I drive through the traffic. How interesting that a famous model like Deena Kushner would date someone like Maxim. I flip on the radio channels, trying to find the classical channel and finally, I found it and Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake filled the car.

Detective Katrina Reed

"Deena was having an affair," Maxim said softly.

Katrina leaned forward towards Maxim. He looks distraught, dark stubble on his chin, his hair unruly and unkempt after being in jail for overnight. He faintly smells of sweat.

"Do you know who it is?" Katrina asked.

Maxim looks at her angrily.

"Why the heck you care? I told you I killed Deena. Everyone proved I killed her."

"Everyone proved you and Deena always fought with each other," Katrina corrected. "But that doesn't mean you killed her. I am going to tell you something. You will be locked in Riker's for your life time. You might be very lucky if you are eligible for a parole. Jail life is miserable, filled with hard convicts who doesn't give a damn and I can assure you, the guards at Riker's wouldn't even help you out if those convicts give you a hard time,"

Maxim looks away.

"I killed her," Maxim said softly.

Katrina sighed. "So she was having an affair. Who was she seeing? You said you killed her because of the affair,"

"Yes! For God's sake! I told you hundred times!" Maxim shouted.

Katrina got up.

"Think about what I just said Maxim. Even though the whole world believes you are guilty, to me, I feel there's something fishy about your confession and the murder." Katrina replied and with that she stormed out of the interrogation room.

As she walks to her desk, her partner, Detective Toby Matthias walks to her.

"You are right, Deena is not an angel as the fans label out her to be," he replied. "She was having an affair with Senator Schoenberg's nephew, Ian Schoenberg who is a top shot criminal lawyer working for his daddy's law firm, Schoenberg and Sons Firm."

"One of the privileged law firms in the state of New York," Katrina crossed her arms on her chest. "Have you contacted him?"

"Get this, Ian Schoenberg has been missing since Deena's murder. He didn't report to work but his father dismissed saying he might probably hanging out with his pregnant Sri Lankan girlfriend--named Priya,"

"Do you have the address?"

"Yes, I got it,"

"Let's go and talk to her and see if she knows Ian's whereabouts," Katrina replied grabbing her car keys and leaving the station with Tobias trailing after her.

Priya

The wine glasses filled with red wine, the cheesecake cut into slices to eat, candle lit brightly at the dinner table, I sit next to Ian who is tied on the chair. Ian looks at me disdainfully, trying to get away from the chair.

"You should never have abandoned me Ian, otherwise, I would never have killed Deena and Maxim would never have gone trouble protecting me," I replied putting a small portion of rice onto his plate and a curry at the side.

"Why?" Ian croaked out.

I looked sharply at him.

"I did this, for our child. Because of you, my family abandoned me. Because of you I am stranded in this type of life. And heck you used me!" I cried.

Ian froze.

I smiled calmly. I take his hand and squeezed.

"Come, I made this for us," I smiled as I try to feed him the dinner, with Chopin's Waltz playing in the background. What a romantic dinner.

November 29, 2020 15:36

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1 comment

Like your other story that I've read, this is very good, bittersweet, a little sad but beautiful and amazing. You did great!

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