Blind | Murder Mystery Oneshot

PROLOGUE

It was up to Brooke to figure out how the killing took place. Which was a tall order, considering she was blind.

What? Have you never heard of a blind mastermind detective?

Well, now you have.

People used to laugh at Brooke when she told them she wanted to be a detective. They would shut up, however, when she gave them explicit details of the color of their cat's mane, or the number of windows their house had. Because she wasn't supposed to know any of that.

Brooke knew she was exceptional, and she was determined to put her potential to full use. She grew up and showed off her talent, and people admired her, to an extent. But she wasn't exactly what you'd call 'in demand', only called for when the authorities had grown desperate themselves. They thought she was a liability because she had to feel around to examine the scenes, putting fingerprints everywhere.

Then she'd solve the case and everyone would be left gaping.

They're desperate now, she thought as she walked up to the car. She reviewed the things she already knew.

Bella Jones, a woman in her 60s. She was the wife of a well known inventor, who was especially known for his work on cars. He had left for Germany the evening before. She knew they were both rich, and had an impressive number of 17 cars, thanks to her husband's field of work. With all the wealth Bella was used to, it was easy to believe that she had egomania.

What Brooke did find hard to believe, however, was that it was in one of these cars that Bella had been found dead the day prior, in front of a casino. She had locked herself in and then shot herself. How did they know she shot herself? The police claimed this because the windows were unharmed, and there was a significant giant hole in her right temple. Traces of gun powder in ans around the controls. She had been dead for 14 hours by the time she was found.

The moment Brooke had heard this story she knew it was not suicide. Bella was egomaniac. People with egomania didn't just shoot themselves like that.

Yet, it had to be. The windows were rolled up, with no signs of distress. She was shot. Surely the bullet couldn't have gone through the windows!

On reaching the crime scene, Brooke found the car door open. She quietly approached, and leaned against the door to feel for the woman who was supposed to be Bella.

On feeling an arm on the steering wheel (an odd position to shoot yourself in, Brooke thought), she gently traced her hand up to her shoulder. Left hand. She carefully felt the forehead. She felt the crusty, dried-up blood near the right temple, as she had been told. Shuddering, Brooke moved away from the bullet hole to feel the woman's right arm. Her hands groped a watch. She moved down, feeling for the legs. Expensive silk and a threaded skirt. Bella was rich and she knew it.

Satisfied, Brooke checked around the rest of the car. Everything was normal. The window was indeed completely smooth, and unharmed. Everything seemed fine, until Brooke grabbed onto a suspicious ledge at the front of the car. And a... pebble?

What on earth was the pebble doing there? Bella did not seem like the type to keep rubbish lying around in what felt like a very expensive car. She had felt several buttons near the dashboard of the car, of which Brooke didn't understand any because she couldn't see them. She made up her mind to ask the first person who came what the buttons were. She couldn't sense any other joysticks or handles.

Step two. Now Brooke had to put her famous mind to work. What did all this mean? How could she prove that someone had shot Bella, and not herself, without even knowing who did it?

Brooke attempted to clear the fog from her mind, and began compiling her suspicions.

First of all, Bella was in a strange position. If she had wanted to shoot herself, why was her left hand on the steering wheel?