Chronicles of Mystery

A closed lounge

The young detective knocked a succession of knocks on the worm-eaten door, impatiently waiting for a response. A barely audible voice, coming from the back of the apartment, shouted for her to come in. Shaheerah must have been busy with someone.

Lucy entered inside, with the same apprehension that she would have if she had had to venture into the lair of Ali Baba and the forty thieves, her footsteps muffled by the colorful oriental carpets, which multiple footsteps had erased over the years, representing things that were difficult to identify today. Beaded curtains hung against the walls. Incense burned in pots to chase away the smell of poverty, Shaheerah said. She spent a fortune on this incense, so rare and precious in the English markets, but still claimed that it was well worth it. The first room served as a reception room, with two large sofas covered in scarlet velvet and furnished with soft cushions facing each other while a large dark wood coffee table, decorated with an unused Turkish tea service, which was only used for distinguished guests, was placed between the two.

Several glass-topped pedestal tables held Chinese porcelain vases, painted with delicate patterns of blue flowers. Shaheerah said she loved the recent Japonism fashion, and as soon as she found objects that were similar to it, she rushed to buy them. Recently, she had given herself several French jewels inspired by this art which she kept carefully in her old box made of fragrant cedar wood, engraved with delicate motifs which she regularly ran over with her finger and kept out of reach of all her guests. However, she never wore the jewelry she put there as if she only wanted to look at them from time to time. Likewise, she never put on makeup, never put on all the delicate clothes that people said she had in her closet. She dressed in black, all black, without any pattern, although she always said that, in the past, she liked to wear colorful clothes with all the patterns specific to her region of origin. Today, she only kept a silver headdress on her head with an ash black turban on her hair which she religiously buried in her headdress, heavy black clothes, a dark tunic, and men's pants. She said that, even if it meant always staying at home, she categorically refused to wear restrictive clothing.

On the coffee table, Lucy immediately spotted the small basket full of pistachio-filled buns that Shaheerah kept for her guests. She should have kept them more carefully, since, thus, they were within the reach of Lucy, the beast. But, with her extraordinary restraint, she only took four which she put on in one go before taking two others which she slipped into her bag. Yes, a lot of restraint on her part.

Then she entered the other room, the makeup room. Behind remained Shaheerah's room where no one entered. There, a wooden stage stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by three flower-shaped mirrors at the top, connected. Heavy tapestries hung from the walls and a chandelier diffused a very pleasant warm light which gave the room a certain intimacy. White wooden dressers lined the walls, filled with an exorbitant amount of makeup, several silver boxes on top. A table covered with a Fuschia tablecloth was set against one wall, loaded with dishes and plates bearing dishes for the women who passed through Shaheerah's fingers. Several armchairs without backs and small stools with gigantic cushions placed face to face, Shaheerah, in her plumpness, seated on one of them, while a young girl faced her, with red hair, white and almost transparent skin, tense on her bones, freckled with gray eyes, her two front teeth gaping as she smiled and giggled, wriggling like a worm. She was in her underwear, showing her collarbone bones and thin chest. She casually played with a rustle of her lingerie, moving her feet back and forth and each time bumping the seat of Shaheerah who grimaced.

The red-haired girl turned her head towards Lucy and smiled even more.

"Hi! Are you the local crazy girl?"

Shaheerah hit her on the head and the tall, skinny girl laughed, squirming again as her long neck stretched.

Lucy sat cross-legged next to them.