RoseBlood

Normal Things Bore Me

When the doorbell rings the next morning, I roll my eyes, thinking it's Brunsley again. I've made a perfect plan of action, and Lizzie shuffling to the door to answer it interrupts the beginning.

Step One: Question the guests and evaluate all exits in the house.

Step Two: Compare alibis and timings, and look closer for any clues and evidence in the house, specifically the basement and Bobby and Judith's bedroom.

As eager as I am to search the basement, it'd already been searched by police and everything when Mum and Dad's bodies were taken and the blood was cleaned up, along with the vinyl and record player as evidence. But, fine, I can work past that.

It's not Brunsley. It's Mia and her parents, Jessica and Roland. They all smile and hug us, and Lizzie goes to put the kettle on as Jessica and Roland follow her and make dreary adult conversation, Mia staying behind with me.

I'm extremely tempted, at this point, to tell her about the case. Is there any harm in it? I mean, she's one of my only friends, and I trust-

Act like you trust, but do not. Don't mess it up when you haven't even started.

"How's everything going, Holls?"

"Yeah, okay," I respond with a slight smile, sitting down next to her on the corner sofa. "It feels weird though. I've only cried about it when you were with me, upstairs, before that detective walked in."

"Well, grief works in different ways," she reminds me. "It took my Mum almost a year to cry when her Mum died of cancer. She just felt... numb, went off her food, tired all the time... Dad helped though, took her to therapy and everything..."

"I guess. I just need time to figure everything out, and now I've got unwanted interference. Still don't know what to think of him."

"Who? Detective Brunsley? But he's police, Holls."

"I don't care," I stress, "I'm just as good a detective as he might be. You know that. Remember who found your phone from the idiot who stole it in Year Eight?"

"Yes, I remember. Honestly, I never would have thought it was her," Mia says with a shake of her head. "Sure, she was snappy, but-"

"She was jealous and stupid," I tell her with a scoff. "You're prettier and get great grades, while she skips school to stick her tongue down whatever poor boy will let her and copies off friends in tests. Jealous. And she shouldn't have bragged about it to impress her stepbrother who hates her guts. Stupid. Simple."

"For you, it's simple," Mia responds with a smile. "You're clever with all that stuff." Then her expression turns concerned. "Have you given them that note yet?"

Oh. That. Well, of course I hadn't. It was for me in the first place, this is my case, and that note is one of the biggest clues I have, so I need to hang on to it for as long as possible.

"Not yet," I reply. "But I will. When I have to."

"I just don't want you getting hurt," Mia insists. "I mean, I'm gonna be stressing out like crazy if I get to Oxford while you're a victim of some psychopath."

"I'm not a helpless little victim, Mia. I know what I'm doing. I may be a victim in their eyes, but I know-"

Keep your trap shut.

"Trust me, Mia," I continue, after pausing for a careful moment. "I'll be okay. You've been friends with me for this long, so you know I'm telling the truth."

"Of course I do," she agrees with a hesitant smile. "Just... oh, well, alright then."

"Don't tell Brunsley if he comes to talk to you or anything."

"I... fine, I won't."

"So, when are you going to Oxford?" I change the subject.

"In about a week, actually," she says, smiling again. "I'm gonna be dorming there - at least, I will be the first year - so I've got to take all the things I need and have them ready the day before."

"Okay, well... look, if your parents say anything about what happened that might be important, tell me, by text or something. And delete the message afterwards, just in case."

"Important?"

"Yeah. You know, if anyone asked or mentioned anything odd, or left the living room for a while. Things like that."

"Okay."

Then Jessica and Roland come back out, and we end up talking for half an hour or so about anything interesting that's not to do with what happened on my birthday. But when they leave, Mia gives me a knowing glance, and I know that she's just as good at getting things out of people as I am, her sweet and subtle, me observant and straightforward.

Now I'm left with two ways to spend my day.

I could search every nook and cranny of this house, find any possible exits and unnoticeable entrances the RoseBlood Killer used to their advantage.

Or I could just lounge around at home and waste time, make food or whatever with Lizzie watch crime series'. Normal things.

Trouble is, normal things bore me.

The first thing I do is sketch a floor plan on plain paper, attaching it to the casebook with a paperclip once I'm satisfied. Then, after at least an hour of searching everywhere for hiding spots and ways to get to the doors, I write down the evaluation. It's a good job Lizzie's holed up in the kitchen making lunch and not cleaning around the house, because I'm betting I looked like I was playing hide-and-seek with my invisible friend or something.

House Evaluation - see plan attached

The two main ways inside the house are the front door and the back door in the kitchen leading to the back garden. Other possible ways of entry could be through a window, but this has been ruled out due to the attention the killer would draw in attempting to reach the windows upstairs, and the only ones downstairs are in the living room, where the party and guests were. Besides, the windows upstairs are usually always closed anyway, and too high out of reach.

There aren't many places to hide except in rooms upstairs, which doesn't make sense, and in the basement, obviously.

Ways to get in and out the front door are the basic ways, past the front garden and in and out through the front door. The back door, however, is a little more discreet, and the fence is 1.8 metres tall and possible to climb over. It cannot be fully ruled out, since Lizzie left the kitchen after the cake was cut to socialise with others, but went back in after asking me where my parents were so she knew what to do with the spare food. This leaves half an hour for the murderer to sneak past guests and leave through the back door and over the fence.

What needs to be considered, though, is the length of the song, and I will follow up this information by searching for it on YouTube and recording how long the song is and at what point I heard it playing when I first left.

And then I realise something that makes my stomach churn in slight fear, before I scowl at myself in annoyance after snapping out of it.

You heard the song after looking out the front door and going upstairs. They were downstairs while you were up, probably leaving the basement after setting up the music.

They knew what they were doing.

Do you?

What would have happened if I stayed downstairs instead of going up? Not that it matters. Because I didn't. What matters is what I do now.

Of course, I could just do nothing, give in my evidence and notes to Brunsley, and let the 'professionals' take over. Like any normal person would.

Boring.