1By Kelbe Thompson
The young man strolled through the woods, the warm air was pleasant, the stars were shining brightly in the sky, it was almost to perfect.
Suddenly he stumbled over something, muttering curses as he looked at what he had tripped on. He let out a scream of repulsion and horror. It was a body! A dead one. Not only that, but it was a body he knew. "Oh Sylvia!" he cried dropping to one knee, a wave of terror washing over him. He had just stumbled on the dead body of his lover.
A young woman sat at her desk rummaging through and filing papers. Her strawberry blonde hair was cropped short in gamine style and auburn eyes intent on the papers she was filing. Suddenly a small knock was heard on the door to her office. "Come in," she grumbled. She turned to see who walked in, it was her boss, and he had a large smile on his face. "Got a case for you Terrence. You ready to ditch the paperwork?"
The woman stood up abruptly knocking some of the papers and files off the desk. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, "What's the case? Murder? Robbery? Missing person?" She almost stuttered with excitement. Her boss simply handed her the file. She plopped right back down into her chair and quickly looked through the file. She got up, grabbed her leather jacket and keys and bolted out the door for her car.
As she drove to the scene of the crime she reviewed the information in the file, "Victim: Sylvia Laurence, birth date: December 14th 1924, approximated death time: 9:30 PM Friday the 28th of October, 1945. Twenty- one years old, rich, lives at home. " She finally summed it all into one simple sentence, "Your typical prom queen."
Once she finally reached the scene of the crime the cops were crawling all over it. Three police men were questioning a man while four others were scanning the area for any evidence. Terrence took a deep breath and walked over to the man being questioned, "Excuse me," she interrupted. "Who are you?" The man being questioned snapped, his steel blue eyes flashing. "I'm Detective Trueborn, I was assigned to the case. Pleasure to meet you Mr. Johnston," she then offered her hand to the man who simply stared at her hand as if it was covered in dirt and worms. She then dropped her hand then gave her own icy glare to the man before asking the officers, "So, what evidence have you found?" "Traces of mostly digested vomit, strands of hair, not belonging to the victim and a small eagle feather," "Who is this?"
"This is Mr. Johnston. He is the victim's lover and the person who found her." Terrence smiled at the man, he was automatically on the suspect list. "Detective Trueborn, I'll leave you to interrogate Mr. Johnston." With that the three cops wandered off, leaving Terrence free to question the man. "So, when did you discover her body?"
"Around 10:00,"
"You're aware that's just half an hour after her time of death?" Trueborn asked looking cynically at the man who was only a few years older then she. "Are you saying I killed my girlfriend?"
"No, I'm simply asking you if are aware of her time of death."
"Well, no, I was not aware of her time of death," the man snapped, only making Trueborn smirk.
"My, my a little edgy hm?", Terrence asked slyly enjoying the slightly uncomfortable look on his face.
"Anyways, are you aware of Ms. Laurence form of death?" "No, I don't."
"And how many boyfriends has she had previous to you?" Terrence asked off handedly expecting to hear around five to ten as a reply, but instead heard; "None, I'm her first and only."
Terrence raised a quizzical eyebrow and stared at him, waiting for an explanation.
"We've been sweethearts since Jr. High. Nothing has torn us apart so far. untill, this." His voice dramatically got quieter and quieter, as if begging for sympathy.
"Touching," she grumbled, "now did you see her previously tonight to discovering her forty-five minutes ago?"
"Yes, we had dinner at French restaurant, the one on 5th Street."
"Did you drop her off at her house?"
"Yes, her parents saw me do so at 8:30, I had previously received a note from her asking me to meet her in the woods, at this spot at 10:00."
"And on your walk you discovered her body?"
"Yes, I then ran back to my house and called the police."
Terrence wrote down all the information as she planed to confirm all the statements later.
"Well, you may leave Mr. Johnston, unless there is any information you feel would be important to us right now?"
The man shook his head, then turned to leave. Terrence then took out a pair of latex gloves and started to inspect the body, murmuring to herself as she did so. "Hives, red skin, an allergic reaction, but these," Terrence lifted the stiff head to inspect the neck, "these aren't hives, these are bee stings. That must've been how she died, an anaphylactic shock."
Terrence then took a scanning look around the area, sure enough a cracked open beehive sat not twenty feet away from her body. She must've moved a little before she died, so it wasn't an immediate reaction. But something wasn't right about how her body was laid. Arms folded stiffly at her sides and legs together, knees unbent. At first glance one might see this as an accident, but it looked like murder to Terrence Trueborn.
Suddenly mad barking rang out, and the scream of Mr. Johnston was followed by the sound of ripping cloth. Terrance ran to see what had happened, she almost wanted to laugh at the scene that met her. There was a Shetland Sheepdog clinging to Mr. Johnston's leg and there was already a large rip in the expensive looking Eton suit. Terrence gave a whistle and the dog immediately released the man's leg and pranced over to Terrence. Kneeling Terrence looked at the dog's tag, on a brass pendent the words 'Missy Laurence' were engraved. Standing up while holding the collar of the dog Terrence asked, "Is this Miss Laurence's dog?"
"Yes, it is." There was contempt and even hatred laced in Mr. Johnston's voice. "Does she always act like this? Attacking people I mean,"
"No, she usually loves all people."
Terrence raised a quizzical eyebrow, then looked down at the dog, who was growling in a low menacing tone at Mr. Johnston.
"So long detective Trueborn," Mr. Johnston said then quickly jogged off, leaving many thoughts to run through Terrence Trueborn's head. None of them accepting that the death of Sylvia Laurence was an accident.
The following day left Terrence restless. The night before she had been up till one o'clock examining the vomit and checking out Mr. Johnston's alibi's. She had found bits of caviar and some type of French dessert in the vomit. The hair looked similar to that of Mr. Johnston; but she couldn't be sure. Also there was the dog, she had spoken to Mr. And Mrs. Laurence and couldn't explain that dog and her towards Mr. Johnston. All of his alibis checked out, but something didn't seem right. The dog had deliberately attacked the man with a seeming vengeance, as if the dog knew the man had done something worthy of punishment. Finally she decided to go to the woods were Ms. Laurence had died, maybe some more evidence could be found.
As she walked through the woods she casually noted some things, such as the types of trees, how densely the forest floor was covered, color of the dirt etc. Unfortunately nothing suspicious caught her eye, but she took advantage of this quiet atmosphere to sort out her thoughts on the dog's reaction to Mr. Johnston. It just wasn't right. The dog looked like a friendly, gentle type, and the breed had a reputation of being so. What would make it turn vicious and attack Mr. Johnston and only Mr. Johnston? The dog had also had bee-stings on his neck. So the dog was most-likely there with Sylvia. Maybe, the dog. saw something? Could the dog, process that someone killed its master? "I guess this means reading up on dog psychology, if there are any books on the matter," she mumbled to herself. But if the dog could process that, if the dog was capable of knowing that its master's death was arranged, and saw the killer, it would probably try to attack the killer, just as the dog attacked Mr. Johnston. She shrugged, it wasn't much to go on, but it was a hunch nevertheless. Now the question, how could Mr. Johnston set up Ms. Laurence's death so it looked perfectly like an accident? He'd have to know she was allergic to bees, common knowledge. Where a beehive was, not that difficult. Set a trap so Ms. Laurence would trigger the bees inside the hive, that would be rather tricky though. Mr. Johnston, despite his rich and snobbish front, could easily be clever enough to pull off something like that.
After finally deciding that there was no more to be done in the woods and that time could better used elsewhere, she left the woods.
After several hours in the library, Terrence was reassured that parts of her theory were possible. The dog could recognize that someone attacked or surely brought about the death of their master. Also, they could openly attack the person or thing that they thought caused the death. They would attack with PASSION, Terrence's ideas were starting to come together.
She silently ran through the three things that made a suspect, means, opportunity, and motive. She saw opportunity and means, but what motive could Mr. Johnston have to kill his high school sweet heart whom he was still dating? He seemed certain of her loyalty, but Terrence still couldn't rule out jealousy and revenge. Otherwise, Mr. Johnston would get nothing from her death. They weren't married or even engaged so he couldn't receive health insurance or any type of inheritance. However, there was a possibility that the two were hiding something and Mr. Johnston no longer trusted Ms. Laurence to keep quiet. Perhaps it was a drug business, or possibly Ms. Laurence had gotten 'in trouble' and refused to abort. Mr. Johnston might've had some fear of his reputation becoming stained. From his profile, she had gathered he had a lot staked on his reputation. His job in architecture depended on his reputation, but it didn't seem likely, but still yet, she couldn't rule it out. Suddenly Terrence began to outline all the circumstances contrary to her theory. She only hoped she could clear all before the scent of the case grew cold.
Day, after day, for nearly two weeks, Terrence repeated this process of walking in the woods while looking for evidence and looking for solutions to all her little contradictions. One day she heard the soft humming of a child not far from were Ms. Laurence's body had been discovered. She quickened her pace and her eyes were greeted with the sight of a small child humming while picking up sticks and leaves. His short cropped, honey blonde hair fell into his face as he laughed and hummed merrily, mimicking the bees in the hive nearby. The hive nearby.
"Hey kid, what you doing out in the woods by yourself?" Terrence asked stepping into the clearing. The boy's head snapped up and he smiled at Terrence, his innocent blue eyes shining with laughter.
"Picking up stuff for my fort and singing with the bee's," the boy replied and then he boldly walked up to the detective and took her by the hand.
"Come and see it! I've come here everyday since, a long time ago, and I have been building my fort!" The little boy then pulled on Terrence's hand and she allowed herself to be guided by the little boy to his, 'fort'.
"You come here everyday?" Terrence asked suddenly, reflecting on what the little boy had said.
The boy stop to look at the older woman. "Yep, well, almost, sometimes mommy makes me stay at home."
"Did you ever notice a man, about my age coming into the woods about three weeks ago?" Terrence asked further, the little boy screwed his face up in thought, he then stopped and asked cutely.
"How many days ago was three weeks?" Terrence gave a wry smile and shook her head at the child's adorable naivety.
"That was twenty-one days ago, that better?" The child nodded then contorted his round face in supposedly deep thought, finally his face brightened as memory graced him.
"Yea! There was! He was REALLY tall," the boy stretched his limbs far as they would go in order to give an impression of how tall the man was. "And, his had black hair and baby blue eyes. He wore an expensive suit. My daddy wears to work." The boy added, Terrence's smile turned into a smirk.
"Did he ever ask you anything?"
"Yep," the boy replied nodding his head vigorously, then he started to pull Terrence along again.
"What kind of things did he ask you?" Terrence asked. This time the boy did not stop walking.
"How often I came here, what TV shows I liked, what candies I liked, what me favorite bugs were."
"What ARE your favorite bugs?" Terrence asked, this time the boy stopped, his bright face lit up.
"BEES! I'm darn sure I found every beehive in these woods, at least seven or twenty!"
Terrence's eyes widened, it almost seemed to perfect!
"Did the man ask you where some beehives were?"
The boy continued walking, and Terrence followed, he nodded his head. He turned, showing an innocent little grin.
"Yep, he even had me help him move a bee hive! It was really fun and I only got stung a few times!"
Finally the child stopped walking and pointed, "there's my fort!"
Terrence followed the chubby finger and chuckled under her breath as she laid eyes on the small tent shaped shack made out of long sticks leaning on each other. This was the child's 'fort'.
"Did the man ever say anything else?"
The boy thought for a moment, then shook his head. Terrence smiled then reached into coat pocket and felt a small sweet there.
"Tell me, what was the weather like when the man came out?" Terrence asked, the boy followed Terrence's arm into her pocket and stared as he replied.
"It rained some times, it made the ground squishy and soft, fun for making tracks and finger painting."
"Thanks kid. Have this," Terrence then tossed the sweet into the child's cupped hands. He looked down at the treat and his eyes glowed at the rainbow colored taffy, and Terrence smirked again.
"See ya around kid," the child didn't even responded as the detective jogged off, her mind running wild.
Crashing into her office, Terrence fingered through the papers of interviews she had taken from Ms. Laurence's parents. One of the comments Mr. Johnston had later made said that he had received a note from Ms. Laurence previous to the night of her death asking him to meet her a place they hadn't met before. Mr. Johnston had shown the note to Terrence and it had been matched to Ms. Laurence's handwriting. He had also said he kept ALL notes from Ms. Laurence, but refused to give any for the investigation. Terrence's smirk grew as she realized there was some snooping and spying to be done in order for her to proceed further in this case.
One week later, Terrence Trueborn stood outside Mr. Johnston's house. For the past seven days she had been monitoring Mr. Johnston's daily routine. When he left for work, when he came back for lunch, when left to go back to work, when he arrived home in the evening, when the other occupants in the house left and when they came home. She now sat crouched in a bush where she had been for twenty minutes, waiting for the housemaid to leave the house and place the key under the mat. After the maid left the house would be completely empty, and remain so for forty-five minutes, until the nanny would come back and make lunch for Mr. Johnston. He would arrive home fifteen minutes later. Finally the housemaid placed the small brass key under the mat outside the front door, then drove away in her car.
Terrence took quick glances around to make sure no one was watching. Terrence moved to the front door with the skill and grace of an ex- ballerina, silent bending down pulled the key out from under the mat. Next, she placed her gloved hand over the door-knob to muffle and soften the sound of the key fiddling in the lock. She grinned at the soft 'click' of the lock. As silently as she could, she then opened the door the minimal amount for her to slip trough and then close the door silently. As she soon she turned into the house, she removed her shoes as so to not make footprints on the glitteringly clean wood floor. She rubbed her gloved hands together in anticipation.
Then, for the next five minutes she hunted noiselessly for Mr. Johnston's room. Once she finally found it, she took a quick glance around. She then crept to the desk and started to rummage through the drawers. At first nothing she found seemed important. Then, she came upon a drawer full of letters, all of them from Ms. Laurence. Taking a few handfuls, she sat down on the floor and looked through them. They all seemed ordinary enough. Suddenly a letter caught her eye, the letter was dated six weeks ago, and beneath the letter was a copy in almost the exact same hand writing, but upside down. Though she could notice some small differences, she looked at other letters dated after that, and one each one they had the an upside down copy of the letter, each time the writing looking more and more similar to the right side up writing.
Terrence had once heard of an technique that artist used, it was to draw an upside down picture right side up. This was used to see the lines and shapes better. Forgers, in order to perfect a person's handwriting also used this. Had Mr. Johnston been using this technique to forge letters from Ms. Laurence? It certainly seemed possible. She had proof, she then took three letters and replaced the other notes back in the drawer. She then turned her eyes on the closet, she slunk over and opened the double doors. Her eyes finally caught line of boots. Picking one up she turned it over, on the bottom were traces of dark red mud. They didn't look more then four weeks old. As she inspected the other shoes she found that all the other boots also had the same red mud. Smiling Terrence removed her shoe from her bag and found the same red mud from the forest were Ms. Laurence had been killed. Everything was starting to come together now. Terrence then took one pair of the boots and slipped it into the large bag she had brought with her. Suddenly a small box hidden behind the boots caught her attention. She carefully reached for the old shoe box and removed the lid. Inside there were many photographs, most of them of Ms. Laurence, with another young man. She flipped through them until she found a picture of Ms. Laurence and the other man kissing. Mr. Johnston was a good spy and actor, Ms. Laurence must have been having an affair. He had kept silent about it. Instead of confronting Ms. Laurence about it, he decided to kill her. But make it look like a pure accident.
By finding a beehive and somehow setting a trigger device, tripped by Ms Laurence, angering the bees which would come out and sting Sylvia causing anaphylactic shock, which in turn killed. By copying Ms. Laurence's handwriting he forged a note asking her to meet him in a new place. He must've asked her to meet him there about half an hour before he actually arrived. And had appeared to have found her dead body. It all made sense! He had a motive, he had means, once he dropped off Ms. Laurence at her house there was an hour and a half lapse of time for everything to occur as planned. With Mr. Johnston arriving apparently on time, finding his dead lover. With perfect alibis to cover it all, and in the process making him look unquestionable.
The only thing he didn't plan for was the dog being there, but that proved one flaw. How would the dog Mr. Johnston set up the beehive? Suddenly she remembered the vomit and hair found at the scene of the crime, how could Ms. Laurence vomit with her throat swollen with some type of prompting? And the hair, it had belonged to Mr. Johnston.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a door being opened and foot steps entering the house. Terrence quickly looked at her watch and swore. The stupid nanny was back early! Ten minutes early! Terrence quickly thought of possibilities of escape, the floor below was out of the question. It was very and open and broad, no place to hide from the nanny. She crept over to the window and looked down, it was a twenty feet drop to the ground. Then there were the woods beyond. Quickly grabbing her bag she opened the window, took a deep breath and counted quietly to herself, "One for the money two for the money, three to get ready and four to let go!" Then with a small pushed Terrence was falling rapidly ground and she closed her eyes as she braced for the soon coming impact.
A few hours later, a few ice packs and bandages later, Terrence stepped once again into her office. Then looked through the information fro m the interviews. Mr. Johnston's maid had said he had left at 9:15. That was way more than enough time to get to the location were he 'discovered' Ms. Laurence's body. He easily had time to do something to Ms. Laurence's body. In fact, by the time he could reach the clearing, Ms. Laurence was probably still alive. At the scene of the crime she had been found with her arms pinned to her sides and legs straight and together. A feather had also been found at the scene. If Mr. Johnston had arrived while Ms. Laurence was still alive, if he had the feather to tickle the back of her throat causing herself to finally choke on her own vomit and then laid her body as found at the scene of the crime then wandered off then back to 'find' Ms. Laurence's body.
Finally she had everything she needed. Gathering her evidence she started the long process of preparing the evidence for the district attorney.
The following day, Mr. Johnston was sketching a new building his company would soon be designing. He was interrupted by the sound of men bursting into his office. He turned and was shocked to see three policemen and Detective Trueborn standing in his office. One officer walked up and gestured for him to stand. "What's the meaning of this?" He growled, his eyes flashing dangerously, Trueborn only smirked. "Mr. Johnston, you are under arrest for murder of Sylvia Laurence. Everything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law." The police man merely grumbled as he slapped hand cuffs on Mr. Johnston, and escorted him out. Terrence's wry smile grew as she left the office, kicking the door shut, following the three police men to their car.
The End