Tales of a Neverland Lost Girl

Queen of Horror

"Hello, Mrs. Allen, I'm detective Melanie Stark. I'm just here to ask you a few follow up questions about your husband, William Allen."

I slid into the metal chair and placed my documents to my right hand side. I looked over the aluminum table to see Charlotte Allen smoking a cigarette with her legs crossed. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun and her hazel eyes looked well rested.

She looked completely calm. Usually when the word "detective" gets thrown around the suspect there is a chill that's runs down their spine. As if "detective" was the word of the damned. The be all, end all of the case. But this one, this Charlotte Allen, was cool and collected.

Charlotte was born in the wrong generation. I've never seen the woman without a dress and a girdle on. Her hair was styled like a 50s themed Lana Del Ray music video. Her brown eyes were always decorated with black eyeliner, her lips forever painted red, her nails freshly manicured and her neck smelt of Chanel. Around her neck was a luxurious string of pearls and her ears were pierced with matching pearl studs. Her voice was like a violin. It was melodious and her words were lovely. She was graceful and dainty. She was the picture perfect wife.

"Do you know where you husband-"

"I've been through all of this before, Detective Stark. I'm done answering questions that I've answered. I don't know where Will is. I'm torn apart by these awful accusations that have been thrown at him. I'm disgusted that you think that my husband, a school teacher, would ever do such a thing."

She was a viper. She hissed out her words and slithered around the question. She took two more puffs of the cigarette before finally ending it in the ash tray.

"You know smoking is bad for you. Every cigarette you smoke you take off one day of your life."

Charlotte rolled her eyes and pulled another stick from her purse.

"Then I guess I have a death wish."

I squinted my eyes at her. She was slimy. She knew exactly what to say. She never skipped a beat. She carried her words with poise and spit with precision. I had to be unpredictable.

"I would like to know about your marriage."

I folded my hands and leaned in. She puffed the smoke.

"My marriage?"

She asked.

"Your marriage."

I repeated.

"What about my marriage, detective?"

I stood and walked around the table. A common thing to do when interrogating. Making the suspect feel in danger and making them feel inferior to my superior.

"Tell me all about it. Where you two met. Your age difference. Your early years. How long you've been married. Tell me all of it."

Charlotte cocked an eyebrow but proceeded with her answers.

"We met at his work. My son Jack, God rest his soul, was in his class. He was a first grade teacher at the time. He loved Jack. Said he was his star pupil. Shortly there after, I started to see him. Jack was happy to see Mr. Allen outside of school. He loved Will. I didn't tell Jack we were together until he was in the third grade. It's not appropriate to call your teacher by their first name. We got married when Jack was in the fourth grade and a few months into our marriage Jack got hit by a car and was killed instantly. Will was there in my grief. Saved me from suicide a few times. A mother's love is more then any marriage or boyfriend. It's much deeper. We've been married for ten years now."

Charlotte seemed happy with her response.

"You avoided a question, Charlotte."

"And what was that, detective?"