Cupid & The Cursed Cup (WAYHAUGHT)

Chapter 8

Holliday sat at his desk in the police station pouring over the files on the warden's murder. A small team had been assigned to the case. Small, as in two inexperienced officers, both already busy with other duties, their assistance more a hindrance than a help. He put it down to lack of resources in a regional city, but was beginning to suspect those in charge would rather this case was buried along with what remained of the warden.

He read through his notes, taking stock of where he was in the investigation. There was no sign of a struggle, no marks on the body other than the clean cut applied to the lower half. No trails or splatters of blood, indicating the body had not been dragged, or killed in the room.

Given where and how the body was found, he suspected more than one person had been involved in a carefully coordinated operation. The piece of paper in the warden's mouth, containing nothing more than a handwritten letter G, had been placed after death, also suggesting whoever carried out this act had enough time to consider their actions. Then there was the whole body on display thing that did not sit well with him. A message to others. A warning, perhaps. For whom was the message intended? For whom was this a warning?

The warden's background revealed nothing unusual. Single, mid-fifties, religious, had worked at the cathedral for over twenty years. Respected, well-liked, amateur archaeologist, cricket lover. No criminal record, no speeding fines. No debts. No gambling, drug, or alcohol issues. An all-round good egg as the British would say. If anything, he was too good, but what was the comparison? His seemingly spotless life compared to whoever had severed his body in two. Most would happily sit next to the warden at a cricket match. The murderer, or murderers, not so much. Then again, how could one tell?

Finally, there was the writing on the wall. A key supposedly in need of being returned. What key? And, why should that be the message? Almost childish in its revelation. More literary than literal he believed. On initial viewing, he assumed it was tied to the actual murder, and yet, on learning the words were written not in the warden's blood, Holliday suspected they may have been left before the warden had been strung up. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. That the warden may have stumbled across the words, prompting him to act in a way that could have led to his eventual murder. One that left the top half of his naked body hanging from the ceiling.

+ + + +

Waverly stared at her computer screen. The naked image of Nicole continued to distract her, pulling her from getting the first draft of a longer story together. There were too many threads needing to be pulled. Her editor was looking for her contribution, anything so long as she could run it on the front page. This was big news for the town and she didn't want to miss an opportunity to showcase the important work their local newspaper was doing in keeping the community informed.

Compiling a shorter piece than she would have liked, Waverly hit the send button, hoping her email and attachment would be sufficient. The note to her editor mentioned she would need more time to concentrate on writing a longer piece, her editor replying a few minutes later telling her excellent job on reporting the warden's death and to continue following the mysterious events at the cathedral. Even her editor was growing curious, the story too intriguing to pass up.

"Pizzas are burnt," Wynonna called from the kitchen, her cooking skills needing more work. "I can take the worst bits off."

Waverly sat playing with one slice, removing a hardened piece of vegetable from the top, turning it in her hand in an attempt to identify what it once was.

"How's your story going?" Wynonna asked, removing charred pineapple from hers. "Thought people only died of boredom in this godforsaken place rather than murder."