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Detective stories
"A Steed From Nowhere"
The dim yellow light in the kitchen flickers with an erratic and unearthly dance, casting elongated shadows that writhe and twist with unnatural animation. The fire's uncertain glow only deepens the oppressive atmosphere, magnifying the dark, malignant presence that lingers just beyond the threshold of perception. The cigarette smolders in the ashtray, its tendrils of smoke curling upwards as if bearing the heavy weight of the detective’s dread and despair.
The kitchen, once a refuge of warmth and familiarity, now exudes an air of suffocating malevolence. The peeling floral wallpaper, its colors faded and distorted, mirrors the deteriorating state of the detective’s own sanity. His trembling hands grip the edges of the table, knuckles whitening under the strain as he stares vacantly at the lifeless figure seated before him—a silent and grotesque testament to the unspeakable horror that has unfolded.
The air is thick with an acrid stench, a grotesque amalgamation of fear and decay that permeates every crevice of the room. It seeps into the detective’s very being, marking him as a vessel for some otherworldly terror. Sweat beads on his brow, a stark testament to the encroaching dread that coils within him, tightening with each stifling breath.
The unbuttoned dress shirt clings to his clammy skin, a futile attempt at comfort in a realm where none can be found. His gaze shifts to the empty bottle of liquor, its contents long depleted, offering no solace against the encroaching darkness. The realization dawns with chilling clarity—he is utterly defenseless against the malevolent forces lurking in the shadows, a prisoner to the disintegration of his own sanity.
As he leans back against the darkened hallway, he becomes acutely aware of the sinister rhythm that echoes through the silence: CLOP. CLOP. CLOP. Each resonant footfall aligns with the frantic pounding of his own heart, blurring the line between his internal torment and the unfathomable presence outside. The darkness thickens, converging into a symphony of dread that threatens to engulf him entirely.
Through the dancing shadows, a form materializes—a spectral horse, its ghostly form illuminated by the flickering light. Its eyes gleam with an unearthly luminescence, and its spectral hooves clatter with an eerie, dissonant cadence. The presence of the rider, though obscured by the veil of darkness, is palpably felt—a formless entity of dread and cosmic insignificance.
The grotesque skull, an abhorrent silhouette against the faint illumination, serves as a macabre symbol of the insidious terror that permeates the room. It mocks the detective’s fragile grasp on reality, a cruel reminder of the impending doom that looms just beyond the edges of comprehension.
A haunting, unearthly whine pervades the air, a sound devoid of logic or reason, emanating from a source unseen and incomprehensible. It carries with it an insidious malevolence that chills the detective to his very core. Clutching a note found in the victim’s hand, he reads, "The truth lies where shadows walk," the cryptic message a mockery of his feeble attempts to decipher the enigma.
Overcome by a paralyzing terror, he collapses into a chair, his body wracked by uncontrollable convulsions. The dark presence, the spectral horse, and the grotesque silhouette merge into a harrowing tableau of cosmic horror. The missing manuscript—an artifact of forbidden knowledge—holds the key to unraveling the mystery, and the malignant forces that haunt the shadows are inexorably tied to its dark revelations.
The detective's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, as though the air itself were complicit in the sinister forces closing in upon him. His mind reeled under the weight of revelations that seemed too vast for human comprehension, his thoughts tumbling through a chaotic labyrinth of terror and despair.
The spectral horse’s ghostly form moved with a grotesque grace, its presence permeating the room with an ancient, eldritch chill. The clopping of its hooves reverberated through the silence, each sound a reminder of the cosmic horror that had breached the veil of reality. The rider remained a mere shadow, a void of malignancy that seemed to distort the very fabric of the detective’s sanity.
With trembling hands, the detective fumbled with the cryptic note, struggling to decipher its implications amidst the encroaching darkness. The words, "The truth lies where shadows walk," seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of their own, their meaning shifting like the elusive shadows that danced along the walls.
Desperation drove him to search the room once more, his eyes darting over the faded wallpaper and the cluttered surfaces. The missing manuscript, the key to this dark enigma, remained elusive, concealed somewhere within the oppressive gloom. His mind, once sharp and methodical, was now clouded by a dread so profound that it threatened to unravel his very sense of reality.
The whine grew louder, more insistent, as if some invisible force were drawing nearer. It was a sound both pitiful and abhorrent, a manifestation of the void that lay beyond human understanding. The detective’s gaze fell upon the grim visage of the skull, its hollow eyes reflecting the dim, flickering light with an unsettling intensity. It was then that he noticed a faint, almost imperceptible glow emanating from beneath the skull’s base—a hidden compartment in the ancient wooden table.
With a surge of resolve, he forced himself to his feet, his movements sluggish and unsteady. His fingers, slick with sweat, pried open the compartment to reveal a hidden drawer. Within lay the missing manuscript, bound in ancient leather and etched with cryptic symbols that seemed to writhe and shift under his gaze.
As he carefully opened the manuscript, the air grew colder still, the very shadows in the room seeming to congeal around him. The text within was an eldritch blend of forgotten languages and arcane diagrams, detailing an ancient ritual designed to summon and bind cosmic entities. The realization struck him with the force of a physical blow—the dark presence that haunted him was an entity called forth by this very ritual, a force seeking to complete its unholy purpose.
Summoning his remaining strength, the detective hurried to piece together the ritual’s countermeasure. The spectral horse's presence grew more oppressive, its ghostly eyes fixed upon him with an ancient and inscrutable purpose. The whine reached a crescendo, and with a final, heart-rending cry, the darkness seemed to close in.
He worked frantically, performing the counter-ritual as described in the manuscript. The process was fraught with terror and disorientation, but his mind, despite its unraveling, remained focused on one single goal: to dispel the dark presence that had permeated the very essence of the room. As he completed the final incantation, the spectral horse reared back with a ghastly whinny, its form flickering and fading as if being drawn into an abyss.
The oppressive weight of the shadows began to lift, the sinister presence retreating as the ritual took effect. The clopping of the hooves faded into an eerie silence, and the skull’s menacing gaze dimmed. The manuscript, now lying still and silent, seemed to exhale a sigh of relief, its dark power subdued.
Exhausted and shivering, the detective slumped into the chair once more. The room, though still dimly lit, felt different—less suffocating, less malign. The horror had been driven back, but the experience had left an indelible mark upon his soul. The nightmarish forces that had haunted him were subdued, but their presence had revealed the fragility of human understanding in the face of unknown horrors.
As dawn’s light began to filter through the grimy windows, the shadows of ancient and unfathomable forces would always linger just beyond the reach of human comprehension.
The dim yellow light in the kitchen flickers with an erratic and unearthly dance, casting elongated shadows that writhe and twist with unnatural animation. The fire's uncertain glow only deepens the oppressive atmosphere, magnifying the dark, malignant presence that lingers just beyond the threshold of perception. The cigarette smolders in the ashtray, its tendrils of smoke curling upwards as if bearing the heavy weight of the detective’s dread and despair.
The kitchen, once a refuge of warmth and familiarity, now exudes an air of suffocating malevolence. The peeling floral wallpaper, its colors faded and distorted, mirrors the deteriorating state of the detective’s own sanity. His trembling hands grip the edges of the table, knuckles whitening under the strain as he stares vacantly at the lifeless figure seated before him—a silent and grotesque testament to the unspeakable horror that has unfolded.
The air is thick with an acrid stench, a grotesque amalgamation of fear and decay that permeates every crevice of the room. It seeps into the detective’s very being, marking him as a vessel for some otherworldly terror. Sweat beads on his brow, a stark testament to the encroaching dread that coils within him, tightening with each stifling breath.
The unbuttoned dress shirt clings to his clammy skin, a futile attempt at comfort in a realm where none can be found. His gaze shifts to the empty bottle of liquor, its contents long depleted, offering no solace against the encroaching darkness. The realization dawns with chilling clarity—he is utterly defenseless against the malevolent forces lurking in the shadows, a prisoner to the disintegration of his own sanity.
As he leans back against the darkened hallway, he becomes acutely aware of the sinister rhythm that echoes through the silence: CLOP. CLOP. CLOP. Each resonant footfall aligns with the frantic pounding of his own heart, blurring the line between his internal torment and the unfathomable presence outside. The darkness thickens, converging into a symphony of dread that threatens to engulf him entirely.
Through the dancing shadows, a form materializes—a spectral horse, its ghostly form illuminated by the flickering light. Its eyes gleam with an unearthly luminescence, and its spectral hooves clatter with an eerie, dissonant cadence. The presence of the rider, though obscured by the veil of darkness, is palpably felt—a formless entity of dread and cosmic insignificance.
The grotesque skull, an abhorrent silhouette against the faint illumination, serves as a macabre symbol of the insidious terror that permeates the room. It mocks the detective’s fragile grasp on reality, a cruel reminder of the impending doom that looms just beyond the edges of comprehension.
A haunting, unearthly whine pervades the air, a sound devoid of logic or reason, emanating from a source unseen and incomprehensible. It carries with it an insidious malevolence that chills the detective to his very core. Clutching a note found in the victim’s hand, he reads, "The truth lies where shadows walk," the cryptic message a mockery of his feeble attempts to decipher the enigma.
Overcome by a paralyzing terror, he collapses into a chair, his body wracked by uncontrollable convulsions. The dark presence, the spectral horse, and the grotesque silhouette merge into a harrowing tableau of cosmic horror. The missing manuscript—an artifact of forbidden knowledge—holds the key to unraveling the mystery, and the malignant forces that haunt the shadows are inexorably tied to its dark revelations.
The detective's breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, as though the air itself were complicit in the sinister forces closing in upon him. His mind reeled under the weight of revelations that seemed too vast for human comprehension, his thoughts tumbling through a chaotic labyrinth of terror and despair.
The spectral horse’s ghostly form moved with a grotesque grace, its presence permeating the room with an ancient, eldritch chill. The clopping of its hooves reverberated through the silence, each sound a reminder of the cosmic horror that had breached the veil of reality. The rider remained a mere shadow, a void of malignancy that seemed to distort the very fabric of the detective’s sanity.
With trembling hands, the detective fumbled with the cryptic note, struggling to decipher its implications amidst the encroaching darkness. The words, "The truth lies where shadows walk," seemed to pulse with a malevolent life of their own, their meaning shifting like the elusive shadows that danced along the walls.
Desperation drove him to search the room once more, his eyes darting over the faded wallpaper and the cluttered surfaces. The missing manuscript, the key to this dark enigma, remained elusive, concealed somewhere within the oppressive gloom. His mind, once sharp and methodical, was now clouded by a dread so profound that it threatened to unravel his very sense of reality.
The whine grew louder, more insistent, as if some invisible force were drawing nearer. It was a sound both pitiful and abhorrent, a manifestation of the void that lay beyond human understanding. The detective’s gaze fell upon the grim visage of the skull, its hollow eyes reflecting the dim, flickering light with an unsettling intensity. It was then that he noticed a faint, almost imperceptible glow emanating from beneath the skull’s base—a hidden compartment in the ancient wooden table.
With a surge of resolve, he forced himself to his feet, his movements sluggish and unsteady. His fingers, slick with sweat, pried open the compartment to reveal a hidden drawer. Within lay the missing manuscript, bound in ancient leather and etched with cryptic symbols that seemed to writhe and shift under his gaze.
As he carefully opened the manuscript, the air grew colder still, the very shadows in the room seeming to congeal around him. The text within was an eldritch blend of forgotten languages and arcane diagrams, detailing an ancient ritual designed to summon and bind cosmic entities. The realization struck him with the force of a physical blow—the dark presence that haunted him was an entity called forth by this very ritual, a force seeking to complete its unholy purpose.
Summoning his remaining strength, the detective hurried to piece together the ritual’s countermeasure. The spectral horse's presence grew more oppressive, its ghostly eyes fixed upon him with an ancient and inscrutable purpose. The whine reached a crescendo, and with a final, heart-rending cry, the darkness seemed to close in.
He worked frantically, performing the counter-ritual as described in the manuscript. The process was fraught with terror and disorientation, but his mind, despite its unraveling, remained focused on one single goal: to dispel the dark presence that had permeated the very essence of the room. As he completed the final incantation, the spectral horse reared back with a ghastly whinny, its form flickering and fading as if being drawn into an abyss.
The oppressive weight of the shadows began to lift, the sinister presence retreating as the ritual took effect. The clopping of the hooves faded into an eerie silence, and the skull’s menacing gaze dimmed. The manuscript, now lying still and silent, seemed to exhale a sigh of relief, its dark power subdued.
Exhausted and shivering, the detective slumped into the chair once more. The room, though still dimly lit, felt different—less suffocating, less malign. The horror had been driven back, but the experience had left an indelible mark upon his soul. The nightmarish forces that had haunted him were subdued, but their presence had revealed the fragility of human understanding in the face of unknown horrors.
As dawn’s light began to filter through the grimy windows, the shadows of ancient and unfathomable forces would always linger just beyond the reach of human comprehension.
Murder at the Club of Hearts
The murderer is in this very room. Four suspects are in front of me, and one has done it. You may be thinking, Janet, you are in the room as well.
I’ve already deduced that I am clear. For my part in this case, other than to solve it. I was on the other side.
of the room, having a glass of wine and ogling the drummer in the jazz band.
There is a dead body lying in the center of the floor, with a white sheet covering it. There is a boyfriend who is bereaved in the death of the woman. There is the best friend who seems to be pissed off that she is being held for questioning. There is the owner who needs this to be wrapped up as neatly as possible. And there is the sister who seems to be acting peculiarly, seeing that this is the death of a family member.
Please sit back, and let’s figure out who killed Yulia Yuliani.
Club of Hearts
The club was filled with modern jazz enthusiasts. I was told this would be the perfect place to let my hair down and not be, well, me. Janet S. Constant.
Tonight, I am a woman enjoying peace, white wine, and the eye candy of a drummer to the band that is playing on stage.
One can’t help but notice how attractive he is. He looks to be in his mid-forties, fit but not too fit. He had a little weight on him that suited me just fine. His hair was still full and grazing his shoulders, and when he saw I was looking, he flashed a smile that reminded me that I was clearly a woman who had neglected her needs.
I broke eye contact and took another sip of wine. I looked around the club and watched who was dancing to the music. I love to people-watch. A group of young people who looked extremely happy at the moment were sitting at a table across the dance floor, but still in my view.
I was too far away to catch what the excitement was about, but I can surmise it could be either a promotion, an engagement, or a farewell get-together. One woman caught my eye out of the bunch: a brunette with a look of indifference who resembled another woman at the table.
“Excuse me? Would you like a refresher?”
Breaking my thoughts on the people at the table, I looked at the waitress standing before me, smiling and in laid-back attire.
“Yes, please. Can I ask you the name of the band that is playing?”
She smiled and said, “The Fusions. They sound good even though the drummer, Billy, is a last-minute stand-in.”
“Is he not with the band?” I asked because they sounded like they had been playing together for a while.
“No. He owns the music store in Lexington. His cousin, the bass guitarist, asked him to help tonight. The normal drummer’s wife went into labor, and they did not want to cancel this gig.”
I smiled at the information she gave me and glanced at the drummer.
“I’ll be right back with your white wine,” she said, going straight to the bar.
“Aaaa, Oh my god. Help, someone help.” A woman’s voice called out.
My attention was diverted to the direction of the scream. The music stopped, and all eyes were directed to the table where a woman was lying on the floor with her eyes open and clearly not responsive.
I stood and walked over to the young woman, and I saw that whatever had happened had happened suddenly. All the phones were out, and people were either calling for help or making videos of the situation.
“For all of you who are taking pictures and video of this, please be advised that they will be subjected to police scrutiny for tampering with this and are liable to be charged for releasing evidence.”
I knew I was fabricating a lie to have them erase the footage, but not everything needs to be released the second it happens.
Twenty Minutes Later
“Lieutenant Nash, we have gathered everyone and received their statements. We cannot hold this many people any longer.” The officer stated while glancing around and finally saw me sitting and watching everything unfold.
“The coroner’s will be here as soon as he can. What should we do with that one over there?” The officer asked.
The lieutenant glanced at my way and closed his eyes, probably to do a Hail Mary, realizing that I was there.
“I will take care of it. Let them go and inform them that if this is leaked to the media, they will be charged in this investigation.”
The officer nodded and informed the crowd that they were free to go but with a stipulation.
The lieutenant, on the other hand, walked my way.”
“Should I ask why you are here?”
“Of course, it is your job. I am here to relax and enjoy the music.”
He sighed and continued.
“Did you see anything?” The lieutenant asked.
“No. Can I go as well?” I responded
Again closing his eyes and breathing.
“You saw nothing, Constant? You are a private investigator who has solved so many crimes in the past. Seen NOTHING?”
I noted the stress level Nash was putting off and decided that I should take another tack.
“Why are you this stressed, Nash?”
“Do you know who she is?” he asks, knowing I do not have the answer.
“No”
“She is the daughter of Rochelle Newent and Jan Yuliani. The multibillionaire Yuliani. Who’s money is keeping quite a few businesses in the green? Yuliani.”
“Please stop saying the name. I know who he is. So you are in charge of this case?”
He gave a curt nod and looked at the dead woman.
“I could use your help.” He whispered.
“I am on vacation.”
His voice went several octaves lower.
“Please, do it for me.”
He gave me a look that always killed me. Lieutenant Sam Nash was an old flame that seemed to ignite when we were in the same vicinity as each other. But that flame was doused when I caught him with Eliza. She was my best friend and now my arch-rival in all things.
“What will Eliza think?”
“To hell with Eliza. We are not together, and that has no bearing on this situation. Will you help me or not?”
“Sam, take that tone down. I will help, but nothing changes between us. You fucked up royally.”
He looked down at the floor and then gathered himself together.
“The case.” He said
“Who are those people who were with her?” I asked
Rising from my table, I walk with Lieutenant Nash to where the suspects are . Mind you, whether they are family friends or whatever, they are suspects.
“I cannot believe this is happening in my club.” That came from a well-dressed young man of about 30. He looked to have Asian heritage, though there was no accent to place him.
“I understand this is a difficult time for everyone,” Nash said, looking at them.
“Difficult time? You did not say it was a difficult time. My fiancée of about 25 minutes just died.”
That comes from a tear-stained young gentleman around 25-27 years old, give or take. He is wearing very relaxed clothing but is still stylish.
“Please excuse me. I am trying to figure out what happened to Miss Yuliani.” Nash was cut off by a young woman who seemed very, very angry.
“Who is this? She’s not one of you.”
“Yes, this is Miss Janet Constant. She is a special investigator. She has been called on several cases to solve unexplainable crimes.”
“Crime? You’re saying that this is a crime that happened inside my club?”
Everyone except one person said nothing, and I need to know why.
“Excuse me, out of everyone who is speaking, you are silent?”
The young woman looked at me as if this were an everyday occurrence and said,” I feel everyone else is showing the correct amount of emotions at this moment, and adding to it would not help in the least.”
What she said was correct, but it was the way she said it that put me off. Her voice was very flat, with no inflection, and monotone. Very robotic.
“Please forgive Elena; she has an issue.” That was from the cry of the tear-stained fiance sitting down with his head in his hands.
I looked at the woman with a blank stare and pegged her for her early 20s.
“So, you’ll try to solve this in one night?” The young, angry woman said, glaring at me.
I smiled at her and looked at her directly in her eyes before I answered,” it is usually my experience that the person who has been killed has been killed by someone that they know. Since you are all together, it’s feasible that one of you has done it.”
“This is ridiculous. I must go upstairs and see how much money I have lost from everyone leaving the club early.”
I took a deep breath before I uttered these words clearly and loudly, so there would be no mistaking my meaning.
“No one is leaving here until I have questioned all of you.”
The statement alone garnered so many emotions on these young people’s faces aimed at me and made me believe I was correct in my assumptions.
“Excuse me, what is your name, please?” I asked the club owner.
“Thomas Chen.”
“Mr. Chen, would I be able to use your office as a place of privacy as I conduct my interview?”
“Yes, of course, as long as this can be solved and put to rest,” he said, looking a bit agitated and annoyed at the same time.
“I would like to talk to you first if you don’t mind?”
He looked at me, shocked as if he hadn’t expected to be questioned when I had just announced that everyone here would be questioned. He gave a curt nod and walked towards the stairs near the stage where the band had been playing.
Once inside his office, the door was closed, and I sat behind his desk and motioned for him to sit in front. Usually, he would be behind the desk, but I needed to get him out of his comfort zone.
“Mr. Chen, can you tell me what happened today?”
“Excuse me?”
“Can you tell me what has occurred today? To be more exact, what has occurred from the time the club opened to the time that you came down to be with that group of people? And how do you know them?”
He took a deep breath and looked at his desk. He needed his security blanket, and I just ripped it away.
“The people downstairs are like family. I grew up with Elena, Yulia, and Vanessa. Eduardo is a recent member of the group, and like he said, they were just engaged tonight.”
While telling me this, he folded and unfolded his hands several times.”
“It does not look like you agree on this engagement.”
“Of course I do. I want her to be happy. Wanted her to be happy.”
After stating this, he took a big sigh and leaned back in the chair.
“Eduardo told me last week he was going to propose today. I told him once he proposed to bring her to the club, and we would have an engagement party with just us. I told him I would pay for it all because there is nothing I would not do for our girl.”
Our girl, he said. It must be a Freudian slip, but I’ll keep that in my mental rolodex.
“Is there anything else that you did today to prepare for this engagement part?”
“Well, once I told the others that this was an engagement party, we decided to chip in and buy her an engagement gift from all of us. We put it all in the bag to give her as a gift.”
“And your gift was?”
“She loved makeup, so I bought her favorite items.” He sat with his voice trembling a bit. His cool demeanor was starting to break, and I knew it was because he felt a little out of control and did not like being at the other side of his desk.
“Thank you, Mr. Chen. Can you please send up Vanessa? I think you said her name was Vanessa.”
“Yes, Vanessa Nelson, um. Was that all?”
“Yes. Is there something else you want to let me know? Yes, I do apologize. What time do you open the club?”
“Normally it would be six.”
“Thank you, that is all.”
He stood up straight in his clothes and walked towards the door without giving me a second glance. Five minutes later, the angry friend walked through the door.
“Well, let’s get on with it.”
“Why are you so angry?”
I knew that people process grief differently, but this anger was more than just grief.”
“What do my emotions have anything to do with this case?”
I sat there quietly and waited. The quieter I was, the more agitated she became.
“Are you not going to ask me any questions?”
Again, I did not answer her and just watched.
“She was my best friend. My best friend and she did not give me one hint that she and Eduardo were thinking of getting married. No, I had to hear it from Thomas—the little shit.
Thomas, who has been clinging on to us for God knows how long. Thomas, who does not want to admit that he—”
She paused and looked around as if she shouldn’t say what would slip out of her mouth.
“Go on. That he-“
“But he has or had a little thing for her since we were young.”
With her finally saying that I could see a little steam deflate from her demeanor, but there was something more to this that she was hiding.
“Miss Nelson, did you have a little thing for the deceased as well?”
She sat there uncomfortable, looking at the floor, and I heard,’ yes”. Whispered.
“Mr. Chen said that you all chipped in to get her an engagement bag of items.”
She looked up, and finally, I could see the Trail of Tears.
“Yes, I bought her this little negligee thing that we joked about when we saw it online. When she took it out of the bag, we both could not stop laughing. Now she’s gone.”
I stood up and handed her a Kleenex that was at the edge of the desk.
“Thank you. Can you please send an Eduardo?”
She took the tissue and looked at me questioningly, but she never verbally expressed what was running through her mind. She turned and walked towards the door, and once she pulled it open, she said something I did not expect.
“Eduardo would have been good for her, but he would not have been the best.”
Then she walked out.
The grief-stricken fiancée walked through the door with the weight of his loss on his shoulders.
“Please have a seat, and my condolences.”
He went to the chair. Before he sat down, he saw the box of tissues, and he grabbed a few.
“Can you tell me what happened before you came to the club and during,” I said
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“We were at the apartment, and I made her favorite dish, Paia. It’s seafood in a rice mixture. I learned how to make it from my mother, and she just loved it. During the meal, I told her I had something to ask her, and she honestly did not know that tonight was going to be the night that I asked her to marry me.
I got down on one knee and asked her, and immediately, she said yes. I knew that my world would never be the same.”
He dabbed at his eyes because the tears would not stop falling, and his sorrow was genuine.
“I told her everyone knew, and we were supposed to meet them at the club. Once we got here, we met with Thomas first, and he hugged us and then the others. Her sister came with Vanessa since they were out at their parent’s place.”
“Excuse me, whose parents’ place?”
“Oh, sorry. Um, Elena and Julia’s parents’ place. The evening went great. Thomas arranged for the band to play the songs that she loved. Even though her favorite drummer was not on tonight, the replacement did justice to the music.”
Ah yes, Billy, I thought to myself.
“Please go on.”
“Well, we all went to the table, and Julia said she needed to use the restroom. She got up and went, and maybe a couple of minutes later, Thomas said she would love to put on some of the makeup he had gotten her tonight.”
Uh, crush is running to say his last-ditch effort of his affection for her.
“When they came out, I thought something happened, but she just said she didn’t feel well. She wanted to have a time.”
“She didn’t tell you what occurred in the restroom then?”
He shook his head no. We continued to have a good time and drinks. We were already full, so of course, we didn’t eat, but everything was going fine, and the next thing you knew, she was saying that she couldn’t breathe. She suffers from anxiety, so I didn’t take it as anything other than an anxiety attack. We all move to give her some air and some space, but instead of the normal reaction, she fell to the floor, grabbed her chest, and said she couldn’t breathe.”
I looked at him as he replayed the whole situation, trying to figure out what he had missed and what was going on.
“Thank you. Can you please send in her sister Elena?”
He rose from his seat and gave me a questioning look, which I am accustomed to, and tonight they all are going to continue doing this until I solve who killed her.
The sister entered the room as methodically as earlier with her speech. She went to the seat and sat down.
“First, I would like to express my condolences. Can you please tell me what happened from your point of view?”
No deep breaths, fluttering eyes, and one hint of emotion other than indifference.
“Vanessa and I came to the club, waiting for Eduardo and my sister to arrive. I ordered a strawberry daiquiri, and Vanessa got her usual tequila. Thomas came to the table with the gifts and placed them in the center, letting us know they were coming. Vanessa gave him a death glare, and I just continued listening to the band and drinking my drink.”
“So, nothing out of the ordinary in your eyes happened before they came or during?”
She sat there as if she was analyzing what had gone on.
“It seemed like what we always did when we came to Thomas’s club. Eduardo and my sister came in, and they had champagne to celebrate. They danced, and then my sister said she had to go to the restroom.”
I find it odd that nobody said anything about the items in the bag other than Thomas.”
“What was in the bag as a gift from you?”
“I gave her a porcelain doll. My sister loves porcelain dolls, and this particular one was in a wedding gown. It was to add to her collection.”
“A porcelain doll? Is she not too old for those items?”
“No, you see, this particular porcelain doll was her favorite perfume bottle. I had it made for her and would give it to her on her birthday, but since she got engaged, I decided to give it to her as an engagement gift instead.”
I watched her as she told me this, and still nothing. “Please continue.”
“Yulia said her stomach hurt and she had to go to the restroom. Thomas followed right behind her. Then they both came out, smiling.”
“Smiling?”
“Yes.”
“I have to ask this, and please do not take any offense. What is the health issue that causes you not to have or rather show any emotion?”
She looked at me in a dead stare and said,” It is called Alexithymia.”
“I have never heard of this. Can you please explain it to me briefly?”
“I have difficulty experiencing emotions, expressing them, and sometimes articulating my feelings. I have been diagnosed since I was five years old.”
I just nodded and took note of the information. It is hard to tell if someone is lying if they don’t show one iota of emotion.
“Thank you. You can leave, but please send Lieutenant Nash upstairs.”
She rose and went to the door, and as Thomas, she did not give a backward glance.
After considering all the information these people have given me and reading their body language, I have a theory. It’s a thin theory, but it’s a theory, nonetheless.
The door opened, and Nash stepped in.
“Do you know who’s done it Constant?”
“Would you be able to ask one of the officers to bring the items from the engagement bag given as a gift.”
He looked at me and took out his walkie-talkie and called the officer to bring the item.
Once the officer came with the item, I looked inside and pulled out all its contents.
Everything is as they said, but one item was used, and I have a funny feeling it is a weapon.
“Sam, I need you to follow along with what I do downstairs. Do not ask questions; follow my lead.”
Sam nodded, knowing that when I’m in this type of mode, I have the answer; I just need the culprit to incriminate themselves.
I went downstairs with Nash on my heels and went in front of the three bereaved people.
“I know who killed Miss Yulina Yuliani.”
All eyes were on me, waiting for me to save the name.
“It is Miss Vanessa Nelson.”
She stood up with a start and looked ready to kill me.
“Me? You’re accusing me of killing my best friend?”
“You have a motive. You are not happy about this engagement, correct?”
“No, I was not happy, but I would not have killed my best friend.”
“I beg to differ. Everyone here has an alibi. Why would anybody else want to kill her but you?”
She stood there as if she was ready to leap and rip my throat out, and that is when things got interesting.
“Alibi? Thomas has been Fucking Eduardo since the day they met, and you say everyone here has an alibi. I know for a fact Edwardo called off whatever they had a few days before announcing that he was going to ask Yulia to marry him.”
So the story changes, and so does the love interest.
“That is a lie, Vanessa,” Eduardo said in a panic
“I would never do anything to---”
“Eduardo, be quiet. You know I have evidence of the two of you.”
Thomas lurched forward to grab Vanessa by the throat and started to strangle her. Nash stepped in and pulled him off of her.
“Do not dare talk to him like that. Vanessa, you’re a piece of trash. We knew you were in love with Yulia.”
“I may have been in love with Yulia, but I would never have killed her.”
“That is correct. Vanessa did not kill Yulia. It was you, Thomas, wasn’t it?”
Thomas looked at me and looked at it, Eduardo.
“Thomas, did you do that?” Edwardo asked.
“Of course I did. You don’t belong with her. You belong with me. I told you that.”
Vanessa looked at me with suspicion.
”How did you know, and what did he use to do it?”
“You all came into the office and answered my questions, but you three said something that he did not: going to the restroom. She went to the restroom, and Thomas followed with the gift he got for her. I looked at the items, and the only thing I saw used was lip gloss. I believe the poison was put in the lip gloss and took effect when she drank champagne.”
Nash motioned for the officer to come over and take him away. At that exact moment, the coroner came to collect the body.
“Lieutenant Nash, can I remove the body?”
“Yes, of course, Keith. When you do the autopsy, look for poison. I need to know what was used.”
He nodded and went to work. The other three were released, and Nash had to go, but before he did, he could not help to ask.
“Janet, are you ever going to forgive me?”
I looked at him and said, “After I have music lessons. I feel like banging on some drums.”
He stormed off, knowing they would eventually makeup, but she would make him suffer first.
I’ve already deduced that I am clear. For my part in this case, other than to solve it. I was on the other side.
of the room, having a glass of wine and ogling the drummer in the jazz band.
There is a dead body lying in the center of the floor, with a white sheet covering it. There is a boyfriend who is bereaved in the death of the woman. There is the best friend who seems to be pissed off that she is being held for questioning. There is the owner who needs this to be wrapped up as neatly as possible. And there is the sister who seems to be acting peculiarly, seeing that this is the death of a family member.
Please sit back, and let’s figure out who killed Yulia Yuliani.
Club of Hearts
The club was filled with modern jazz enthusiasts. I was told this would be the perfect place to let my hair down and not be, well, me. Janet S. Constant.
Tonight, I am a woman enjoying peace, white wine, and the eye candy of a drummer to the band that is playing on stage.
One can’t help but notice how attractive he is. He looks to be in his mid-forties, fit but not too fit. He had a little weight on him that suited me just fine. His hair was still full and grazing his shoulders, and when he saw I was looking, he flashed a smile that reminded me that I was clearly a woman who had neglected her needs.
I broke eye contact and took another sip of wine. I looked around the club and watched who was dancing to the music. I love to people-watch. A group of young people who looked extremely happy at the moment were sitting at a table across the dance floor, but still in my view.
I was too far away to catch what the excitement was about, but I can surmise it could be either a promotion, an engagement, or a farewell get-together. One woman caught my eye out of the bunch: a brunette with a look of indifference who resembled another woman at the table.
“Excuse me? Would you like a refresher?”
Breaking my thoughts on the people at the table, I looked at the waitress standing before me, smiling and in laid-back attire.
“Yes, please. Can I ask you the name of the band that is playing?”
She smiled and said, “The Fusions. They sound good even though the drummer, Billy, is a last-minute stand-in.”
“Is he not with the band?” I asked because they sounded like they had been playing together for a while.
“No. He owns the music store in Lexington. His cousin, the bass guitarist, asked him to help tonight. The normal drummer’s wife went into labor, and they did not want to cancel this gig.”
I smiled at the information she gave me and glanced at the drummer.
“I’ll be right back with your white wine,” she said, going straight to the bar.
“Aaaa, Oh my god. Help, someone help.” A woman’s voice called out.
My attention was diverted to the direction of the scream. The music stopped, and all eyes were directed to the table where a woman was lying on the floor with her eyes open and clearly not responsive.
I stood and walked over to the young woman, and I saw that whatever had happened had happened suddenly. All the phones were out, and people were either calling for help or making videos of the situation.
“For all of you who are taking pictures and video of this, please be advised that they will be subjected to police scrutiny for tampering with this and are liable to be charged for releasing evidence.”
I knew I was fabricating a lie to have them erase the footage, but not everything needs to be released the second it happens.
Twenty Minutes Later
“Lieutenant Nash, we have gathered everyone and received their statements. We cannot hold this many people any longer.” The officer stated while glancing around and finally saw me sitting and watching everything unfold.
“The coroner’s will be here as soon as he can. What should we do with that one over there?” The officer asked.
The lieutenant glanced at my way and closed his eyes, probably to do a Hail Mary, realizing that I was there.
“I will take care of it. Let them go and inform them that if this is leaked to the media, they will be charged in this investigation.”
The officer nodded and informed the crowd that they were free to go but with a stipulation.
The lieutenant, on the other hand, walked my way.”
“Should I ask why you are here?”
“Of course, it is your job. I am here to relax and enjoy the music.”
He sighed and continued.
“Did you see anything?” The lieutenant asked.
“No. Can I go as well?” I responded
Again closing his eyes and breathing.
“You saw nothing, Constant? You are a private investigator who has solved so many crimes in the past. Seen NOTHING?”
I noted the stress level Nash was putting off and decided that I should take another tack.
“Why are you this stressed, Nash?”
“Do you know who she is?” he asks, knowing I do not have the answer.
“No”
“She is the daughter of Rochelle Newent and Jan Yuliani. The multibillionaire Yuliani. Who’s money is keeping quite a few businesses in the green? Yuliani.”
“Please stop saying the name. I know who he is. So you are in charge of this case?”
He gave a curt nod and looked at the dead woman.
“I could use your help.” He whispered.
“I am on vacation.”
His voice went several octaves lower.
“Please, do it for me.”
He gave me a look that always killed me. Lieutenant Sam Nash was an old flame that seemed to ignite when we were in the same vicinity as each other. But that flame was doused when I caught him with Eliza. She was my best friend and now my arch-rival in all things.
“What will Eliza think?”
“To hell with Eliza. We are not together, and that has no bearing on this situation. Will you help me or not?”
“Sam, take that tone down. I will help, but nothing changes between us. You fucked up royally.”
He looked down at the floor and then gathered himself together.
“The case.” He said
“Who are those people who were with her?” I asked
Rising from my table, I walk with Lieutenant Nash to where the suspects are . Mind you, whether they are family friends or whatever, they are suspects.
“I cannot believe this is happening in my club.” That came from a well-dressed young man of about 30. He looked to have Asian heritage, though there was no accent to place him.
“I understand this is a difficult time for everyone,” Nash said, looking at them.
“Difficult time? You did not say it was a difficult time. My fiancée of about 25 minutes just died.”
That comes from a tear-stained young gentleman around 25-27 years old, give or take. He is wearing very relaxed clothing but is still stylish.
“Please excuse me. I am trying to figure out what happened to Miss Yuliani.” Nash was cut off by a young woman who seemed very, very angry.
“Who is this? She’s not one of you.”
“Yes, this is Miss Janet Constant. She is a special investigator. She has been called on several cases to solve unexplainable crimes.”
“Crime? You’re saying that this is a crime that happened inside my club?”
Everyone except one person said nothing, and I need to know why.
“Excuse me, out of everyone who is speaking, you are silent?”
The young woman looked at me as if this were an everyday occurrence and said,” I feel everyone else is showing the correct amount of emotions at this moment, and adding to it would not help in the least.”
What she said was correct, but it was the way she said it that put me off. Her voice was very flat, with no inflection, and monotone. Very robotic.
“Please forgive Elena; she has an issue.” That was from the cry of the tear-stained fiance sitting down with his head in his hands.
I looked at the woman with a blank stare and pegged her for her early 20s.
“So, you’ll try to solve this in one night?” The young, angry woman said, glaring at me.
I smiled at her and looked at her directly in her eyes before I answered,” it is usually my experience that the person who has been killed has been killed by someone that they know. Since you are all together, it’s feasible that one of you has done it.”
“This is ridiculous. I must go upstairs and see how much money I have lost from everyone leaving the club early.”
I took a deep breath before I uttered these words clearly and loudly, so there would be no mistaking my meaning.
“No one is leaving here until I have questioned all of you.”
The statement alone garnered so many emotions on these young people’s faces aimed at me and made me believe I was correct in my assumptions.
“Excuse me, what is your name, please?” I asked the club owner.
“Thomas Chen.”
“Mr. Chen, would I be able to use your office as a place of privacy as I conduct my interview?”
“Yes, of course, as long as this can be solved and put to rest,” he said, looking a bit agitated and annoyed at the same time.
“I would like to talk to you first if you don’t mind?”
He looked at me, shocked as if he hadn’t expected to be questioned when I had just announced that everyone here would be questioned. He gave a curt nod and walked towards the stairs near the stage where the band had been playing.
Once inside his office, the door was closed, and I sat behind his desk and motioned for him to sit in front. Usually, he would be behind the desk, but I needed to get him out of his comfort zone.
“Mr. Chen, can you tell me what happened today?”
“Excuse me?”
“Can you tell me what has occurred today? To be more exact, what has occurred from the time the club opened to the time that you came down to be with that group of people? And how do you know them?”
He took a deep breath and looked at his desk. He needed his security blanket, and I just ripped it away.
“The people downstairs are like family. I grew up with Elena, Yulia, and Vanessa. Eduardo is a recent member of the group, and like he said, they were just engaged tonight.”
While telling me this, he folded and unfolded his hands several times.”
“It does not look like you agree on this engagement.”
“Of course I do. I want her to be happy. Wanted her to be happy.”
After stating this, he took a big sigh and leaned back in the chair.
“Eduardo told me last week he was going to propose today. I told him once he proposed to bring her to the club, and we would have an engagement party with just us. I told him I would pay for it all because there is nothing I would not do for our girl.”
Our girl, he said. It must be a Freudian slip, but I’ll keep that in my mental rolodex.
“Is there anything else that you did today to prepare for this engagement part?”
“Well, once I told the others that this was an engagement party, we decided to chip in and buy her an engagement gift from all of us. We put it all in the bag to give her as a gift.”
“And your gift was?”
“She loved makeup, so I bought her favorite items.” He sat with his voice trembling a bit. His cool demeanor was starting to break, and I knew it was because he felt a little out of control and did not like being at the other side of his desk.
“Thank you, Mr. Chen. Can you please send up Vanessa? I think you said her name was Vanessa.”
“Yes, Vanessa Nelson, um. Was that all?”
“Yes. Is there something else you want to let me know? Yes, I do apologize. What time do you open the club?”
“Normally it would be six.”
“Thank you, that is all.”
He stood up straight in his clothes and walked towards the door without giving me a second glance. Five minutes later, the angry friend walked through the door.
“Well, let’s get on with it.”
“Why are you so angry?”
I knew that people process grief differently, but this anger was more than just grief.”
“What do my emotions have anything to do with this case?”
I sat there quietly and waited. The quieter I was, the more agitated she became.
“Are you not going to ask me any questions?”
Again, I did not answer her and just watched.
“She was my best friend. My best friend and she did not give me one hint that she and Eduardo were thinking of getting married. No, I had to hear it from Thomas—the little shit.
Thomas, who has been clinging on to us for God knows how long. Thomas, who does not want to admit that he—”
She paused and looked around as if she shouldn’t say what would slip out of her mouth.
“Go on. That he-“
“But he has or had a little thing for her since we were young.”
With her finally saying that I could see a little steam deflate from her demeanor, but there was something more to this that she was hiding.
“Miss Nelson, did you have a little thing for the deceased as well?”
She sat there uncomfortable, looking at the floor, and I heard,’ yes”. Whispered.
“Mr. Chen said that you all chipped in to get her an engagement bag of items.”
She looked up, and finally, I could see the Trail of Tears.
“Yes, I bought her this little negligee thing that we joked about when we saw it online. When she took it out of the bag, we both could not stop laughing. Now she’s gone.”
I stood up and handed her a Kleenex that was at the edge of the desk.
“Thank you. Can you please send an Eduardo?”
She took the tissue and looked at me questioningly, but she never verbally expressed what was running through her mind. She turned and walked towards the door, and once she pulled it open, she said something I did not expect.
“Eduardo would have been good for her, but he would not have been the best.”
Then she walked out.
The grief-stricken fiancée walked through the door with the weight of his loss on his shoulders.
“Please have a seat, and my condolences.”
He went to the chair. Before he sat down, he saw the box of tissues, and he grabbed a few.
“Can you tell me what happened before you came to the club and during,” I said
He took a deep breath and nodded.
“We were at the apartment, and I made her favorite dish, Paia. It’s seafood in a rice mixture. I learned how to make it from my mother, and she just loved it. During the meal, I told her I had something to ask her, and she honestly did not know that tonight was going to be the night that I asked her to marry me.
I got down on one knee and asked her, and immediately, she said yes. I knew that my world would never be the same.”
He dabbed at his eyes because the tears would not stop falling, and his sorrow was genuine.
“I told her everyone knew, and we were supposed to meet them at the club. Once we got here, we met with Thomas first, and he hugged us and then the others. Her sister came with Vanessa since they were out at their parent’s place.”
“Excuse me, whose parents’ place?”
“Oh, sorry. Um, Elena and Julia’s parents’ place. The evening went great. Thomas arranged for the band to play the songs that she loved. Even though her favorite drummer was not on tonight, the replacement did justice to the music.”
Ah yes, Billy, I thought to myself.
“Please go on.”
“Well, we all went to the table, and Julia said she needed to use the restroom. She got up and went, and maybe a couple of minutes later, Thomas said she would love to put on some of the makeup he had gotten her tonight.”
Uh, crush is running to say his last-ditch effort of his affection for her.
“When they came out, I thought something happened, but she just said she didn’t feel well. She wanted to have a time.”
“She didn’t tell you what occurred in the restroom then?”
He shook his head no. We continued to have a good time and drinks. We were already full, so of course, we didn’t eat, but everything was going fine, and the next thing you knew, she was saying that she couldn’t breathe. She suffers from anxiety, so I didn’t take it as anything other than an anxiety attack. We all move to give her some air and some space, but instead of the normal reaction, she fell to the floor, grabbed her chest, and said she couldn’t breathe.”
I looked at him as he replayed the whole situation, trying to figure out what he had missed and what was going on.
“Thank you. Can you please send in her sister Elena?”
He rose from his seat and gave me a questioning look, which I am accustomed to, and tonight they all are going to continue doing this until I solve who killed her.
The sister entered the room as methodically as earlier with her speech. She went to the seat and sat down.
“First, I would like to express my condolences. Can you please tell me what happened from your point of view?”
No deep breaths, fluttering eyes, and one hint of emotion other than indifference.
“Vanessa and I came to the club, waiting for Eduardo and my sister to arrive. I ordered a strawberry daiquiri, and Vanessa got her usual tequila. Thomas came to the table with the gifts and placed them in the center, letting us know they were coming. Vanessa gave him a death glare, and I just continued listening to the band and drinking my drink.”
“So, nothing out of the ordinary in your eyes happened before they came or during?”
She sat there as if she was analyzing what had gone on.
“It seemed like what we always did when we came to Thomas’s club. Eduardo and my sister came in, and they had champagne to celebrate. They danced, and then my sister said she had to go to the restroom.”
I find it odd that nobody said anything about the items in the bag other than Thomas.”
“What was in the bag as a gift from you?”
“I gave her a porcelain doll. My sister loves porcelain dolls, and this particular one was in a wedding gown. It was to add to her collection.”
“A porcelain doll? Is she not too old for those items?”
“No, you see, this particular porcelain doll was her favorite perfume bottle. I had it made for her and would give it to her on her birthday, but since she got engaged, I decided to give it to her as an engagement gift instead.”
I watched her as she told me this, and still nothing. “Please continue.”
“Yulia said her stomach hurt and she had to go to the restroom. Thomas followed right behind her. Then they both came out, smiling.”
“Smiling?”
“Yes.”
“I have to ask this, and please do not take any offense. What is the health issue that causes you not to have or rather show any emotion?”
She looked at me in a dead stare and said,” It is called Alexithymia.”
“I have never heard of this. Can you please explain it to me briefly?”
“I have difficulty experiencing emotions, expressing them, and sometimes articulating my feelings. I have been diagnosed since I was five years old.”
I just nodded and took note of the information. It is hard to tell if someone is lying if they don’t show one iota of emotion.
“Thank you. You can leave, but please send Lieutenant Nash upstairs.”
She rose and went to the door, and as Thomas, she did not give a backward glance.
After considering all the information these people have given me and reading their body language, I have a theory. It’s a thin theory, but it’s a theory, nonetheless.
The door opened, and Nash stepped in.
“Do you know who’s done it Constant?”
“Would you be able to ask one of the officers to bring the items from the engagement bag given as a gift.”
He looked at me and took out his walkie-talkie and called the officer to bring the item.
Once the officer came with the item, I looked inside and pulled out all its contents.
Everything is as they said, but one item was used, and I have a funny feeling it is a weapon.
“Sam, I need you to follow along with what I do downstairs. Do not ask questions; follow my lead.”
Sam nodded, knowing that when I’m in this type of mode, I have the answer; I just need the culprit to incriminate themselves.
I went downstairs with Nash on my heels and went in front of the three bereaved people.
“I know who killed Miss Yulina Yuliani.”
All eyes were on me, waiting for me to save the name.
“It is Miss Vanessa Nelson.”
She stood up with a start and looked ready to kill me.
“Me? You’re accusing me of killing my best friend?”
“You have a motive. You are not happy about this engagement, correct?”
“No, I was not happy, but I would not have killed my best friend.”
“I beg to differ. Everyone here has an alibi. Why would anybody else want to kill her but you?”
She stood there as if she was ready to leap and rip my throat out, and that is when things got interesting.
“Alibi? Thomas has been Fucking Eduardo since the day they met, and you say everyone here has an alibi. I know for a fact Edwardo called off whatever they had a few days before announcing that he was going to ask Yulia to marry him.”
So the story changes, and so does the love interest.
“That is a lie, Vanessa,” Eduardo said in a panic
“I would never do anything to---”
“Eduardo, be quiet. You know I have evidence of the two of you.”
Thomas lurched forward to grab Vanessa by the throat and started to strangle her. Nash stepped in and pulled him off of her.
“Do not dare talk to him like that. Vanessa, you’re a piece of trash. We knew you were in love with Yulia.”
“I may have been in love with Yulia, but I would never have killed her.”
“That is correct. Vanessa did not kill Yulia. It was you, Thomas, wasn’t it?”
Thomas looked at me and looked at it, Eduardo.
“Thomas, did you do that?” Edwardo asked.
“Of course I did. You don’t belong with her. You belong with me. I told you that.”
Vanessa looked at me with suspicion.
”How did you know, and what did he use to do it?”
“You all came into the office and answered my questions, but you three said something that he did not: going to the restroom. She went to the restroom, and Thomas followed with the gift he got for her. I looked at the items, and the only thing I saw used was lip gloss. I believe the poison was put in the lip gloss and took effect when she drank champagne.”
Nash motioned for the officer to come over and take him away. At that exact moment, the coroner came to collect the body.
“Lieutenant Nash, can I remove the body?”
“Yes, of course, Keith. When you do the autopsy, look for poison. I need to know what was used.”
He nodded and went to work. The other three were released, and Nash had to go, but before he did, he could not help to ask.
“Janet, are you ever going to forgive me?”
I looked at him and said, “After I have music lessons. I feel like banging on some drums.”
He stormed off, knowing they would eventually makeup, but she would make him suffer first.
Written by fianaturie8
(Fia Naturie)
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Murder at the Orient Sexpress Chapter 1
For the one who woke me up from the dead
the one who is going to kill me one day
the one who doesn’t know I exist
And the one who wished I didn’t.
Sumi Nishan (2568.04-2619.53)
“Don’t tell me it’s another strangulations?” I asked MJ.
When I received the call to go to the Orient Sexpress in district 37944, I was afraid it was going to be another one of those. I usually don’t care much, but that time it was personal. The serial killings of sex workers had struck a nerve, my nerve, and I could not let this one go.
A death is usually reported in Shang every 1.14 seconds, out of which more than 4000 were actual murders committed every single day. This was nothing out of the ordinary in a city of 5 billion inhabitants. Shang is by far one of the smallest of the Mega Cities. It is one of the reasons I chose to live in this town on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. I prefer the wide open spaces between those large multiplex towers that blot out the sky. Each is a city on its own with hundreds of thousands of people living, working and dying in them.
Detective Merovimati Jamalison or MJ for short, flipped the naked body of the sextress to her side to check for other wounds or scars. She didn’t find any. As I suspected. The only visible marks on that woman’s body were the red line on her throat where a tight rope or a cable was used to cut off her breathing, and the word “ZINA” etched on her forehead.
“This guy is consistent, I tell him that,” MJ commented, “The symmetrical notches of the cable he is using has left almost identical marks on all his victims. I would think after 26 kills he would start to be more inventive.”
“This is usually the case with serial killers. They always leave their signature on their victims,” I confirmed. “But what makes you think it is a guy?” I asked our resident expert. “For all we know it could be a SHE?” I wanted to make sure my suspicions were correct.
Detective Jamalison was more than ten years my senior. Her investigative skills were the best in our department. “I have a feeling it is a HE,” she explained. “I could be wrong. However our killer would have to be a strong SHE to dig that deep into that woman’s neck. Besides, he is yet to strangle a male sextress. My bet is on the HE or maybe someone in between. Still, I could be wrong.”
MJ stood up and covered the lifeless body of the sex worker with the standard issue white plastic sheet to await for the dieners while I walked over to talk to the owner of the establishment.
“Hey,” Kinda, the manager of the Orient Sexpress, greeted me with puffed up eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Of course I’m NOT OKAY SUMI,” she snapped, “we’ve been hearing about those murders for months. We never thought it could happen to us here.” Kinda was on the verge of crying again. “Now that we lost Ketty, the girls, even the boys, don’t want to work here anymore. I don’t blame them.”
I had known Kinda for years. She was a good friend and an even better employer. I had used Kinda’s services many times. She usually hires the best and most qualified people in her business. All Sex Workers have to undergo rigorous training and certification if they want to get into the sex guild. It is tough, demanding, but non the less, it is a very rewarding line of work both economically as well as mentally. That is why many want to join the SWG but few get accepted. The Sex Workers Guild has millions of members all over the world. It is by far one of the largest and most powerful of the working guilds. Countries of the past are no more. Just Mega Cities all managed and organized by the Council of Guilds and the Council controls everything. This system has worked for hundreds of years since the ‘Botch-Up Wars’ which left millions of dead from famine and disease and rendered the old political system in ruins. The guilds had to take over and clean up the mess. And they did a fairly good job of it so far. Unfortunately they still could not stem mankind's love for war and politics. They just reshaped into something else, the Guild Wars, as some came to call them. Guild skirmishes were constant until a big one erupts every couple of years. Fortunately for us we have the SWG to fall back to. The Sex Workers Guild is always a dampening force when tensions flare more than usual. The threat of a worldwide SWG strike usually does it.
There are thousands of sex outlets in every corner of the world and Shang was not an exception. Those sex shops usually cater to every clientele and offer every kind of service one could possibly imagine. Of course there were other options out there; robos, dolls, dalls, VR, AR, SR... but nothing comes close to the real thing. Some outlets are cheap while others you need an entire fortune just to get a BJ at. The Orient Sexpress in district 37944 was one of the not so expensive ones. It was small, clean and quick, and it did provide the basic services one needed on a daily bases. Kinda was a franchisee owner and manager of the Orient Sexpress in district 37944. Hers was one of thousands of such outlets and part of a large sex chain in Shang. As I said, I liked Kinda’s place, it was clean, efficient, but mostly importantly it was around the corner, my corner.
“Who could possibly do such a thing?” Kinda asked. She was afraid, but more so she sounded desperate. I could hear it in her voice. She could loose her license if word ever gets out that one of her workers was killed in her establishment. No one wants to lie in the same bed where a corps used to be. Bad for business.
“I believe it is someone who doesn’t like sextressess!” I replied.
“That’s impossible!” she exclaimed, “who could possibly have anything against sextressess? It’s like saying someone doesn’t like nurses or firemen. This just doesn’t make sense.”
“OF COURSE IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE,” his screeching could not be ignored. Nuru Solomon, the SWG representative interjected between Kinda and myself like a drunken snake. I did not like this guy.
“Master Nuru Solomon,” I acknowledging his presence.
“Detective Sumi Nishan,” forcing him to acknowledged mine.
Still I did not like this guy. He was snobby, obnoxious and annoying. He thinks he knows it all, more so he believes he is protecting the guild’s interest and it’s members when his action or inaction is leading to their demise. Unfortunately for me, he was the official guild rep and I had to deal with him. He was assigned to investigate these killings and he was doing a terrible job so far.
“I believe there are people in this world who think badly of your line of work Mr Solomon,” I explained, “and they want to shut you down if we do not do anything about it.”
“THATS ABSURD,” he screeched again.
“You’re joking, right?” this time it was Kinda who intervened. She was as surprised to hear what I just said as much as Master Nuru was.
“No. I am not joking,” I tried to explain, “There are people who want to go back to the old ways of the past, when sex was a taboo, hidden behind closed doors.”
“Is that what the word ZINA means?” Nuru asked, “I have never heard of such a thing.” And that is because you are not doing your job, you idiot! I was almost about to say that out loud. If I did I would have lost my mine.
“Surely there can’t be people like that on Earth anymore?” Kinda asked in bewildered surprise, “I know that sex workers were not looked upon very favorably in the past but that was more than five hundred years ago. We provide what people need for their survival. Surely no one can live without food or sex?! It’s unnatural.”
“From the looks of it, I think our killer does.” I added, “but don’t worry,” I tried to reassure her, “we will get to the bottom of this. I promise you.”
“Thank you Sumi,” Kinda hugged me before going out to check up on her employees. However before she disappeared out of the room she said, “and please say Hi to Dani for me. We haven’t seen you here for a while.”
After Kinda left, Master Nuru slithered closer to me and hissed in my ear, “I hope you don’t get your nose too close in our business, Detective. The SWG can protect their own.” He wobbled his way out of the sexpress before I could manage to explain what I knew about this case so far. Unfortunately I knew shit. Our killer managed to cover up his tracks like a true professional. I have no idea how he scrambled every security and surveillance nod in the area. He even managed to fry clean the girls wearables. Very professional indeed.
As I was leaving Kinda’s Sexpress, MJ pulled me aside to speak to me in private, “You know it is not our job to investigate this Sumi. Let the SWG do it on their own. We do not have the resources to do that.”
“Well, they’re not doing a great job so far. I do believe the words ‘PROTECT and SERVE’ are still in our job description, ARE THEY NOT?” I almost shouted at my superior. “Are we going to stand here and do nothing while these girls are being slaughtered?!”
MJ smiled seeing how riled up I was. Unfortunately she reminded me of what our line of work had trickled down to, “as detectives we can only detect and inform next of kin if we can manage to find any. They either have a choice of dumping the cremated ashes of their loved ones at sea, or temporarily displaying them at the tower of the dead before scattering them at sea once their grieving were done. Unfortunately that’s all the time we have for, Sumi. Surely you know that?! Besides, there are thousands of sexpresses in Shang, how are you going to investigate them all?”
Of course I knew that. But I did not have to like it. I left MJ to rap up her report and went back home to Dani. It was late at night and I was tired. As my AirPod hovered up toward district 69987 not far above, the only thing I could think off were those 26 dead sextresses.
Who could possibly be doing such a thing?!
the one who is going to kill me one day
the one who doesn’t know I exist
And the one who wished I didn’t.
Sumi Nishan (2568.04-2619.53)
“Don’t tell me it’s another strangulations?” I asked MJ.
When I received the call to go to the Orient Sexpress in district 37944, I was afraid it was going to be another one of those. I usually don’t care much, but that time it was personal. The serial killings of sex workers had struck a nerve, my nerve, and I could not let this one go.
A death is usually reported in Shang every 1.14 seconds, out of which more than 4000 were actual murders committed every single day. This was nothing out of the ordinary in a city of 5 billion inhabitants. Shang is by far one of the smallest of the Mega Cities. It is one of the reasons I chose to live in this town on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. I prefer the wide open spaces between those large multiplex towers that blot out the sky. Each is a city on its own with hundreds of thousands of people living, working and dying in them.
Detective Merovimati Jamalison or MJ for short, flipped the naked body of the sextress to her side to check for other wounds or scars. She didn’t find any. As I suspected. The only visible marks on that woman’s body were the red line on her throat where a tight rope or a cable was used to cut off her breathing, and the word “ZINA” etched on her forehead.
“This guy is consistent, I tell him that,” MJ commented, “The symmetrical notches of the cable he is using has left almost identical marks on all his victims. I would think after 26 kills he would start to be more inventive.”
“This is usually the case with serial killers. They always leave their signature on their victims,” I confirmed. “But what makes you think it is a guy?” I asked our resident expert. “For all we know it could be a SHE?” I wanted to make sure my suspicions were correct.
Detective Jamalison was more than ten years my senior. Her investigative skills were the best in our department. “I have a feeling it is a HE,” she explained. “I could be wrong. However our killer would have to be a strong SHE to dig that deep into that woman’s neck. Besides, he is yet to strangle a male sextress. My bet is on the HE or maybe someone in between. Still, I could be wrong.”
MJ stood up and covered the lifeless body of the sex worker with the standard issue white plastic sheet to await for the dieners while I walked over to talk to the owner of the establishment.
“Hey,” Kinda, the manager of the Orient Sexpress, greeted me with puffed up eyes.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Of course I’m NOT OKAY SUMI,” she snapped, “we’ve been hearing about those murders for months. We never thought it could happen to us here.” Kinda was on the verge of crying again. “Now that we lost Ketty, the girls, even the boys, don’t want to work here anymore. I don’t blame them.”
I had known Kinda for years. She was a good friend and an even better employer. I had used Kinda’s services many times. She usually hires the best and most qualified people in her business. All Sex Workers have to undergo rigorous training and certification if they want to get into the sex guild. It is tough, demanding, but non the less, it is a very rewarding line of work both economically as well as mentally. That is why many want to join the SWG but few get accepted. The Sex Workers Guild has millions of members all over the world. It is by far one of the largest and most powerful of the working guilds. Countries of the past are no more. Just Mega Cities all managed and organized by the Council of Guilds and the Council controls everything. This system has worked for hundreds of years since the ‘Botch-Up Wars’ which left millions of dead from famine and disease and rendered the old political system in ruins. The guilds had to take over and clean up the mess. And they did a fairly good job of it so far. Unfortunately they still could not stem mankind's love for war and politics. They just reshaped into something else, the Guild Wars, as some came to call them. Guild skirmishes were constant until a big one erupts every couple of years. Fortunately for us we have the SWG to fall back to. The Sex Workers Guild is always a dampening force when tensions flare more than usual. The threat of a worldwide SWG strike usually does it.
There are thousands of sex outlets in every corner of the world and Shang was not an exception. Those sex shops usually cater to every clientele and offer every kind of service one could possibly imagine. Of course there were other options out there; robos, dolls, dalls, VR, AR, SR... but nothing comes close to the real thing. Some outlets are cheap while others you need an entire fortune just to get a BJ at. The Orient Sexpress in district 37944 was one of the not so expensive ones. It was small, clean and quick, and it did provide the basic services one needed on a daily bases. Kinda was a franchisee owner and manager of the Orient Sexpress in district 37944. Hers was one of thousands of such outlets and part of a large sex chain in Shang. As I said, I liked Kinda’s place, it was clean, efficient, but mostly importantly it was around the corner, my corner.
“Who could possibly do such a thing?” Kinda asked. She was afraid, but more so she sounded desperate. I could hear it in her voice. She could loose her license if word ever gets out that one of her workers was killed in her establishment. No one wants to lie in the same bed where a corps used to be. Bad for business.
“I believe it is someone who doesn’t like sextressess!” I replied.
“That’s impossible!” she exclaimed, “who could possibly have anything against sextressess? It’s like saying someone doesn’t like nurses or firemen. This just doesn’t make sense.”
“OF COURSE IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE,” his screeching could not be ignored. Nuru Solomon, the SWG representative interjected between Kinda and myself like a drunken snake. I did not like this guy.
“Master Nuru Solomon,” I acknowledging his presence.
“Detective Sumi Nishan,” forcing him to acknowledged mine.
Still I did not like this guy. He was snobby, obnoxious and annoying. He thinks he knows it all, more so he believes he is protecting the guild’s interest and it’s members when his action or inaction is leading to their demise. Unfortunately for me, he was the official guild rep and I had to deal with him. He was assigned to investigate these killings and he was doing a terrible job so far.
“I believe there are people in this world who think badly of your line of work Mr Solomon,” I explained, “and they want to shut you down if we do not do anything about it.”
“THATS ABSURD,” he screeched again.
“You’re joking, right?” this time it was Kinda who intervened. She was as surprised to hear what I just said as much as Master Nuru was.
“No. I am not joking,” I tried to explain, “There are people who want to go back to the old ways of the past, when sex was a taboo, hidden behind closed doors.”
“Is that what the word ZINA means?” Nuru asked, “I have never heard of such a thing.” And that is because you are not doing your job, you idiot! I was almost about to say that out loud. If I did I would have lost my mine.
“Surely there can’t be people like that on Earth anymore?” Kinda asked in bewildered surprise, “I know that sex workers were not looked upon very favorably in the past but that was more than five hundred years ago. We provide what people need for their survival. Surely no one can live without food or sex?! It’s unnatural.”
“From the looks of it, I think our killer does.” I added, “but don’t worry,” I tried to reassure her, “we will get to the bottom of this. I promise you.”
“Thank you Sumi,” Kinda hugged me before going out to check up on her employees. However before she disappeared out of the room she said, “and please say Hi to Dani for me. We haven’t seen you here for a while.”
After Kinda left, Master Nuru slithered closer to me and hissed in my ear, “I hope you don’t get your nose too close in our business, Detective. The SWG can protect their own.” He wobbled his way out of the sexpress before I could manage to explain what I knew about this case so far. Unfortunately I knew shit. Our killer managed to cover up his tracks like a true professional. I have no idea how he scrambled every security and surveillance nod in the area. He even managed to fry clean the girls wearables. Very professional indeed.
As I was leaving Kinda’s Sexpress, MJ pulled me aside to speak to me in private, “You know it is not our job to investigate this Sumi. Let the SWG do it on their own. We do not have the resources to do that.”
“Well, they’re not doing a great job so far. I do believe the words ‘PROTECT and SERVE’ are still in our job description, ARE THEY NOT?” I almost shouted at my superior. “Are we going to stand here and do nothing while these girls are being slaughtered?!”
MJ smiled seeing how riled up I was. Unfortunately she reminded me of what our line of work had trickled down to, “as detectives we can only detect and inform next of kin if we can manage to find any. They either have a choice of dumping the cremated ashes of their loved ones at sea, or temporarily displaying them at the tower of the dead before scattering them at sea once their grieving were done. Unfortunately that’s all the time we have for, Sumi. Surely you know that?! Besides, there are thousands of sexpresses in Shang, how are you going to investigate them all?”
Of course I knew that. But I did not have to like it. I left MJ to rap up her report and went back home to Dani. It was late at night and I was tired. As my AirPod hovered up toward district 69987 not far above, the only thing I could think off were those 26 dead sextresses.
Who could possibly be doing such a thing?!
Written by Samnash
(Sam Nash)
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Stash Snatched
I've prayed to myself to remind my mind
I critically needed access to a previous time
A time when I without knowledge I may have offended
what I considered a true and trusted friend that only pretended
It all started with me calling 911 and reporting a missing stash
Colombo arrived on the scene assuming I was talking about cash
Uh and ah asking to many questions that were not pertaining to the case
Like where did you get all of that money from were you selling free base
All under and behind my couches this bitch was sniffing like he was snorting
Picking and licking shit off of the carpet, I mean doughnut baby aborting
Bloodhounds were brought in and Colombo broke out the finger print kit
I had my feet upon the couch just knowing they were going to find my shit
The first set of prints belonged to Barnaby, he works security on the fourth floor
It fucking is what it is, but he likes buds and mental spores
There's no way it was him he works to hard to get his high in
The second set of prints I just knew had to be innocent they belonged to Higgin
Colombo went in deep with ah's and uh's in repetition
He was on a roll and even the officers came under suspicion
They were thinking of a cover up, shit let's bury this case deep
Colombo smokes to many blunts if we find this shit it's for keeps
Law enforcement is running up and down fire escapes and stairwells
The master detective is pacing his Peugeot like he was pacing a cell
I want my shit was locked and reverberating through out my mind
I was starting to feel like my self as space and time realigned
I can spell Colombo's shit and it smells just like mine
Officers are guzzling coffee and doughnuts, hahaha munching the whole time
Security is locked, Colombo even brought in his pooch, Dog
Another mother fucker smelling like my stash, yeah my money and my drugs
Fuck the bullshit Colombo as I brought Magnum in on the case
A racist motherfucker just hungry for a taste
And like a blood hound Magnum started sniffing around
He made Colombo take off his coat and half of my stash was found
Gats were drawn between Me, dirty ass cops, and crooked PI's
Magnum screamed out Higgins has the rest of your stash, he likes to get high
I called up Robin Masters and told him about this mess
Robin had heard that Higgins, TC, and Rick were getting twisted in his nest
After a brief shootout I recovered the first half of my stash
I left home pursuing Magnum with my foot still stuck in his ass
Like any coke head I knew that he would run straight for home
Taking dangerous chances on the curves hoping I would leave him alone
On the last curve he lost control and death came to fast
Upon entering the gates I saw Zeus and Apollo and so I started to blast
I caught Rick and TC running across the yard headed for the helicopter pad
Higgins came to the door still smoking my shit, and that really made me mad
I threw two shots into his chest and snatched my shit from his dying hands
Higgins was evident selling my shit with a wad of hundreds wrapped in a rubber band
Fucking Mike Hammer has been burning up my phone and making demands
Please hurry and get your shit back, you're my main connect, my main man
I critically needed access to a previous time
A time when I without knowledge I may have offended
what I considered a true and trusted friend that only pretended
It all started with me calling 911 and reporting a missing stash
Colombo arrived on the scene assuming I was talking about cash
Uh and ah asking to many questions that were not pertaining to the case
Like where did you get all of that money from were you selling free base
All under and behind my couches this bitch was sniffing like he was snorting
Picking and licking shit off of the carpet, I mean doughnut baby aborting
Bloodhounds were brought in and Colombo broke out the finger print kit
I had my feet upon the couch just knowing they were going to find my shit
The first set of prints belonged to Barnaby, he works security on the fourth floor
It fucking is what it is, but he likes buds and mental spores
There's no way it was him he works to hard to get his high in
The second set of prints I just knew had to be innocent they belonged to Higgin
Colombo went in deep with ah's and uh's in repetition
He was on a roll and even the officers came under suspicion
They were thinking of a cover up, shit let's bury this case deep
Colombo smokes to many blunts if we find this shit it's for keeps
Law enforcement is running up and down fire escapes and stairwells
The master detective is pacing his Peugeot like he was pacing a cell
I want my shit was locked and reverberating through out my mind
I was starting to feel like my self as space and time realigned
I can spell Colombo's shit and it smells just like mine
Officers are guzzling coffee and doughnuts, hahaha munching the whole time
Security is locked, Colombo even brought in his pooch, Dog
Another mother fucker smelling like my stash, yeah my money and my drugs
Fuck the bullshit Colombo as I brought Magnum in on the case
A racist motherfucker just hungry for a taste
And like a blood hound Magnum started sniffing around
He made Colombo take off his coat and half of my stash was found
Gats were drawn between Me, dirty ass cops, and crooked PI's
Magnum screamed out Higgins has the rest of your stash, he likes to get high
I called up Robin Masters and told him about this mess
Robin had heard that Higgins, TC, and Rick were getting twisted in his nest
After a brief shootout I recovered the first half of my stash
I left home pursuing Magnum with my foot still stuck in his ass
Like any coke head I knew that he would run straight for home
Taking dangerous chances on the curves hoping I would leave him alone
On the last curve he lost control and death came to fast
Upon entering the gates I saw Zeus and Apollo and so I started to blast
I caught Rick and TC running across the yard headed for the helicopter pad
Higgins came to the door still smoking my shit, and that really made me mad
I threw two shots into his chest and snatched my shit from his dying hands
Higgins was evident selling my shit with a wad of hundreds wrapped in a rubber band
Fucking Mike Hammer has been burning up my phone and making demands
Please hurry and get your shit back, you're my main connect, my main man
Written by I_IS_ME
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Mr Black 1
It was raining cats and dogs. My coat was soaked wet. My fedora hat was dripping from both sides and I was standing at the corner of the street waiting for her to leave the club. The Flamingo was one of the few clubs in town that catered to those special clientele which I wouldn't dream rubbing shoulders with.
“How did I get myself into this mess?” I wondered. I should not have taken this case, but her eyes. Damn those green eyes dazzled me the moment she walked into my office. I remember that day when....
"I am looking for Mr Black," she said. Now how was I to say “No” to those eyes?
"I am Sam Black. What can I do for you Miss?" I asked. She was wearing a two piece gray business suit which hugged her body like a rubber on a stick. Her red lace bra was peaking from underneath her white top daring me with every move of her body. The black hat on her head tried to hide the brilliance of her eyes to no avail.
"I think my sister is being kidnapped," she said, "and I need a dick to find her."
"Have you tried the police Miss?" I asked.
"No I didn't," she said. That's when I should have abstained from the case. But those green eyes... Damn.
I needed more information. "When was the last time you saw your sister?"
"We were at the Orleans. She told me she was seeing someone," the green eye seductress said, "I should not have come here. I am already very late," and she stood up to leave.
I wanted to stop her but she was already at the door, "what is your name Miss?"
She turned around and looked at me. "It's Jade," she said, "please help," then she ran out of the door before I could stop her.
Damn those eyes! Why do I continue to see them even in my dreams? I had to find her. I had to look for those greens...
Written by Samnash
(Sam Nash)
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The Shadow Game
In the velvet mansion a crime took place.
Who killed who, no one understood.
The detective, a puppet without ideas,
lost in clues and vain epics.
The butler with satin gloves
hid the poison in the garden.
The lady, with a look of mystery,
kept the secret in her reliquary.
Without clues or direction,
He followed the steps but only saw smoke.
Each suspect has a piece on the board,
But he, a pedestrian, without knowing the script.
In the living room the clock stopped.
Time, an accomplice, hid the crime.
and the detective, in his endless dance,
he was just a puppet, lost in himself.
The detective, in his never-ending search.
He found an endless riddle in a letter.
Written in ink of a crimson hue,
revealing secrets, a bad fate.
The letter said, in subtle words,
"Whoever killed will not see the sun happier.
The butler, the lady, everyone is to blame,
but the true villain is the hidden truth."
The detective, still a puppet, without knowing it,
He followed the clues, trying to understand.
In the library a book fell on the floor
and an old secret finally opened.
The butler, in fear, confessed,
but the lady, in tears, denied it.
The real culprit, a ghost from the past,
He was the owner of the mansion, a tormented spirit.
In the end, the detective, still without ideas,
discovered that the truth is sometimes full of webs
and in the velvet mansion, the mystery remained,
A game of shadows that never ended.
The tormented spirit was the former owner of the mansion,
a man called Lord Downstair.
He was known for his wealth and power
but also because of a dark secret he kept.
During his lifetime, Downstair was accused
of terrible crimes but was never convicted.
He lived isolated, tormented by his actions
and by the ghosts of his victims.
After his death his spirit found no peace.
He wandered around the mansion trapped
between the world of the living and the dead,
seeking justice or perhaps redemption.
His presence was felt
for everyone who entered the house
but few knew the true story
behind his torment.
The detective, still a puppet in the hands of fate,
began to put the pieces together.
He discovered that Downstair had been betrayed
by those he trusted.
His death was the result of a conspiracy.
ghosts of their victims
were also trapped in the mansion,
creating an endless cycle of pain and revenge.
In the end, the detective managed to free the spirits,
revealing the truth and bringing peace to the mansion.
But he himself, marked by experience,
he can never be the same again.
The velvet mansion, now silent,
kept the memories
from a dark past,
but finally at peace.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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What's up?
I woke up,
In a sweaty fuck.
No condom.
So I'm out of luck.
I gave up.
Kept my mouth shut.
My imagination sucks.
So I farted.
The detective,
Puked his guts.
That's wassup.
In a sweaty fuck.
No condom.
So I'm out of luck.
I gave up.
Kept my mouth shut.
My imagination sucks.
So I farted.
The detective,
Puked his guts.
That's wassup.
Written by AfterSexDilemma
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What's up?
I woke up,
In a sweaty fuck.
No condom.
So I'm out of luck.
I gave up.
Kept my mouth shut.
My imagination sucks.
So I farted.
The detective,
Puked his guts.
That's wassup.
In a sweaty fuck.
No condom.
So I'm out of luck.
I gave up.
Kept my mouth shut.
My imagination sucks.
So I farted.
The detective,
Puked his guts.
That's wassup.
Written by AfterSexDilemma
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AfterSexDilemma said:
Not sure what the mystery’s supposed to be, but well done on shoehorning in the word “detective”, I guess.
Not sure what the mystery’s supposed to be, but well done on shoehorning in the word “detective”, I guess.
