The Man, and his Warped Mind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

A short story that i felt did not get enough publicity so i have broken it up into chapters. I will add more to those chapters and by the end of my tenure, i hope that it will some what be like the Martian Time Chronicles.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Man, and his Warped Mind

Submitted: January 15, 2008

Reads: 419

Comments: 5

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Submitted: January 15, 2008

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The jolt from the gun sent a lightning bolt shock up his arm into his shoulder. He lowered his weapon as he looked upon his victim’s body and thought just for a brief moment who he was. Maybe he had a family, a girlfriend, some children, and some parents he was taking care of as they got older. They would probably miss him, mourn, and maybe even have a funeral to share condolences with others. Then he thought of his family. He needed to leave and be home he would get a call about this later and he’d be back. He left, glancing over his shoulder a few meters away just one more time to take a look at the lifeless body lying up against the faded red brick wall, now a bright red.
 I chuckled and walked away from the scene. 
He opened up the door to his bedroom and it let out a horrible moan. As he did the light turned on. There she was, lying in bed wondering where he had been. It was after midnight, the half-circles beneath her eyes indicated to him, as did her piercing stare, that she had not slept, and it was all his fault. 
"I'm sorry, working on a case at the office, we got some new evidence and it took longer to process than we had originally planned. I know I should have called you, but we really needed the evidence to convict this creep," said Matthew, scuffling over toward his side of the bed.
"Fine, but next time Matt, just call-"
The phone rang; the jazz played out of his cell phone, letting him know it was the office. 
"Honey, I'm sorry, I need to take this."
"I know," she said rolling her eyes.
The jazz continued to play for a second more as he kissed her lightly on the forehead. She began rolling herself up in the coolness of the sheets. 
"Hello," he softly spoke as he shut the creaking door.
"I'm on my way, any ID on the vice yet?"
"None Lieutenant. We did not find any identification yet. To be honest with you, whoever did this is good. It’s all very clean, and we can’t find anything over here."
I was smirking now, almost laughing, of course I thought.
By the time he arrived at the scene, they finally had a positive ID on the victim. One of the other officers had recognized him as his brother in-law. His sister was crying hysterically in the corner, trying to answer the demanding questions of the Police officers. He walked over, and pulled her out of the mayhem as any gentleman would do.
"Thank you," she muttered over her tears.
He began, "You’re welcome; I’m terribly sorry about your husband ma’am, but I’m the detective and I need to know just a few things about your husband."
"Ok."
“Please state your name and address for the record.”
She began, “Amber Jackson, 523 Wallberry.”
“Alright, thanks, now I have some questions for you.”
"Did anyone that you know of want to hurt your husband in any way?"
"No sir, not that I am aware of."
"Ok, has your husband ever done drugs, or had association with anyone that may?"
"No detective, no he has not."
She was finally starting to calm down now, and I laughed, I looked over to her husband’s body, a giant ragdoll. No muscle flex, no breathing, no life. Then I looked at her. Her face was red, with dried streams of water trailing from her eyes down to her checks. Then I saw her eyes, a luscious dark blue, reshot, full of salty tears. I enjoyed it so very much, it was oh so sweet.
"Sorry about all of this ma’am but I have just one more question for you, and then you are free to go."
"Fine," she whimpered out tiredly.
"Have you in any way, ever wanted to hurt your husband, ever felt you did not love him anymore?"
 
"WHAT?" she exclaimed. "Listen Mr. Detective, I don’t know what kind of detective you think you are, but I will let you know I love my husband very much. How could I not love him; we have been married for 15 years, we have four children that are about to break down to pieces when I go home and tell them. How on earth could you ever accuse me of wanting to kill my husband?" 
“Just trying to do my job and I suggest that if you ever want to see this all rectified, next time you won’t be so short tempered. You’re free to go tonight; we will see you in the morning at the station."
"Why? I thought I was free to go now."
"We need your prints, to compare them with whatever we may find around that we could have missed."
"Fine," she said angrily tromping away. She grabbed a piece of metal that was leaning up against the wall near her husband’s body and turned to look at Matt, her eyes piercing like a dagger. She threw it on the ground and walked away.
I walked over to the bar, and placed it in an evidence bag; I looked down at my notes: 523 Wallberry. I would have taken the evidence in myself, but I had other plans for the night.


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