The mistery of the Smiling Cat (English ver)

Chapter 10: Iris

December 23, 12:12 am

Allison swore under her breath as she went down the stairs of Morrisons' basement.

She would have far preferred that this criminal had hidden Iris in one of the shacks on the edge of Glasgow, rather than having to go back to that dark, dank basement.

Every second of that atrocious fight was still etched in the detective's mind.

As soon as she heard Luke scream, she literally let go of the coffee cup, which instantly shattered from the impact with the floor, and rushed down the stairs.

The scene she had seen had scared her to death, to say the least: her colleague was lying on the ground, blood dripping slowly from his temples; A little farther away was Morrison, with a demonic look and a nine-caliber pistol in his hand.

Widening her eyes, Allison did not think twice about it and, taking one of the canvases nearby, she stepped between the two men, to shield Luke.

But Morrison didn't give up that easily.

He grabbed one of the wooden boxes and threw it with all his strength towards the detective who, promptly, used her "weapon" to send it out of the way.

Getting up with difficulty, Luke took one of the broken lamps and ran towards Morrison, intending to knock him out or, at least, to let him let go of the gun.

What he achieved was the complete opposite.

The man dodged the attack and, in one movement, snatched the object from the detective's hand and slammed it on his head, knocking him out instantly.

Smiling maniacally, Morrison pointed his gun at the woman.

The rest, unfortunately, is history.

Once down in the basement, Allison held back a grimace of disgust at seeing the stain of blood she had lost still there.

Timothy Morrison was so sure they would never suspect him that he hadn't even bothered to clean up possible evidence against him.

According to her confession, which matched the one provided by Emanuel Poirot, he had taken little Iris to her house and hid her in the basement, but on their first visit, Allison and Luke had found no one.

However, the detective had confirmed later, when the colleague had visited him one last time before leaving with the agents towards the criminal's residence, that it was precisely the cry of a child that made him suspicious.

"The other team scoured this place from top to bottom last time, so I can't get over how he hid Iris here ..." Agent Barney said, slowly sighing, "Come on guys, let's get down to it. work, we must not neglect anything! ".
Turning to Allison, he saw her gazing intently at the red-black stain of blood: "If you don't feel like it, you can leave the search to us, Mrs. Campbell-" "No, I won't be watching, not after what Morrison did to the my colleagues".

It took more than an hour and a half for the group to find something.
Accidentally dropping one of the boxes, Allison noticed a silver object slip and land on the floor. A key.
A gasp just farther from her drew her attention to her. "Damn son of a..." Agent Barney muttered, repeatedly feeling a crack in the brick wall.

The detective approached and found that they had found a lock. The wall was just a cover for a door that led… well, she would find out soon.
Gesturing the other cops to step aside slightly, Allison inserted the key into the lock and turned it, thus breaking the plasterboard Morrison had applied to cover the crack.
The door opened slowly and those present found themselves in front of a scenario that was nothing short of disturbing: the room was full of mannequins.
Mannequins of women, men, children, dressed in the most absurd ways imaginable.
Some wore 1900s suits, others were dressed as if they were going to a carnival party, but all wore a hat.
At their feet were various silver plaques with engraved names: Margaret, Jacqueline, Thomas, Alex, Isabelle, Maria, Terry, Andrea, Robert ...

"That man is crazy ..." muttered one of the agents as he made his way through the various mannequins: "I ... I don't understand ..." thought Allison, observing the woman named Isabelle: "Why should one keep so many mannequins if ...".

A sudden meow behind them made them jump; a thick black-haired, green-eyed fact entered the room and sat temporarily at the detective's feet, before heading for the wall: "He must have entered through one of the upstairs windows," Barney declared. "Leave him alone, poor beast, it's cold outside. He just wants to warm up a little. "

So why, thought Allison, did he stand right at the feet of one of the mannequins?
The room was cold, too cold to be able to stay in there without shaking, so why had that cat crouched at the foot of the plastic statue?

She approached the little puppet and looked at him carefully: he was smaller than the others and wore a pretty white dress with pink ribbons tied around the waist.
He wore a pair of silver sandals and a hat of the same color as the dress.
"Mrs. Campbell, is something wrong?" He asked one of the agents: "All right, I was just inspecting ... the ... the ...".

Allison's voice dropped to a faint whisper as her eyes rested on a stain on her dress that, due to the low light, she hadn't noticed.

A stain that contrasted with her white dress. A red spot.
A red spot at the height of her heart.

Swallowing hard, the detective looked up at her and finally met that of her mannequin, looking trembling at her eyes, praying with all her heart that she was wrong.

Its eyes. Its green eyes. Its glassy green eyes.

Reaching for its arm, Allison felt the limb over and over again, incredulous.
A desperate scream escaped her mouth.
That wasn't plastic.
The temperature in the room should have meant that the plastic was cold.
She had touched something hot.

She had touched some meat.

The agents rushed to her side trying to calm her down, but as soon as they saw what had upset the detective, they could not hold back a scream of fear and disbelief.

Regardless of the screams, the cat settled better and closed his eyes, falling asleep.

They had found Iris.