I squinted as the world came back into view, and all I could see for the first few moments was a bright white light. As my vision cleared, I could make out the tiny cabin around me, I was tied up in squeaky wooden chair surrounded by dark walls and right next to a burning fireplace. There was a small window on the opposite wall and outside I saw a large field of rubbel and garbage. I craned my neck, looking around, trying to find Micah or any sign of another life form, which only lead to the discovery of a large rat scavenging the pile of garbage compiled in the corner for food. I tried moving my hands in an attempt to undo the knot of the thick rope, which only further chaffed my wrists. Once I was convinced that there was nothing else I could do, I began screaming for help in a vain attempt at getting anyone's attention.
Suddenly, in walked one of the large men that I had met on the street earlier, and with him strolled in a shorter man wearing a black suit and large glasses. The short man smirked at my pathetic state. He approached with a sinister look and bent down to my level as he began to talk.
"Well, well, well, well, well, well, well..." he started, examining my current condition.
"That's a deep-ass well," I interrupted. His smug expression was starting to piss me off. Unfortunately for me, he seemed amused by my petty attempt at being clever and his grin simply grew.
"Feisty now, are we?" he continued, as he stood up and started pacing around the room, "The name is Dorian and you should watch your tongue, kid, I could end your entire existence with a snap of my fingers."
I raised one eyebrow, unimpressed as I replied, "You won't kill me now, you need something from me, otherwise you would've done it already."
For some reason, Dorian found this funny and he took a few seconds to laugh before signalling for the larger, burly man to leave the room. He then grabbed the only other chair in the room and positioned it to face me, and took a seat.
"Well Michael, glad you're putting that spectacular brain to something other than petty sarcasm," he continues, "You are right, I do need a favor from you. Your brother, however, is of absolutely no use to us and his screams are becoming quite tiresome."
My head snapped up at the word brother and my vision blurred with rage as he swung his legs off the chair and began towards the door.
"NO! STOP! I swear to god if you lay one finger on my little brother, I will destroy you. You have no idea what I'm capable of!" I screamed at him just as he was about to exit the door. He spun around with a knowing grin on his freckled face and once again took a seat in the chair in front of me.
"Oh, I assure you, Michael, I know exactly what you're capable of," the man retains a smug appearance and continues, "Now are you willing to listen to my offer?"
I took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down before responding.
"Only if you prove that Micah is going to be safe," I breathed out. My mind was already racing with worry of what they had done to him. The poor guy probably had no idea what was going on.
"Of course. Would you like to see him?" Dorian asked casually, "I'm sure he's missed his big brother, don't you agree?"
I scowled, but nodded all the same. There was nothing more important than Micah's safety right now.
The freckled man reached into his pocket, fished out his phone and quickly dialed a number.
"Bring him in boys," he stated, promptly closing his phone, "Now, let's talk about my little favour."
I rolled my eyes in annoyance because honestly I couldn't care less what this psycho wanted, but if listening meant Micah would be safe then so be it.
"I have a case I would like you to take a look at," Dorian said.
" Really, that's what this is about? A case? You had to drag me all the way out here just to ask me about a case?" I yelled, exasperated with the overdramatic gestures, "All you had to do was ask, you know. I solve cases for the police all the time without all the hassle of a kidnapping."
"This is different, the case has already been solved, it's a test of sorts for..." he replied, his irritation evident in his tone, " Nevermind, just solve the case before I change my mind about your precious little brother."
"Alright, chill," I muttered, "Go ahead, what is it this time?"
"An old fortune-teller, Amara Calvery, was murdered three nights ago " Dorian started, "She lived in a small town in Japan, in her large house with her Japanese maid and her manservant, and her daughter was visiting her at the time..."
"Wait. Why Japanese?" I interrupted, as the scene was forming in my head.
"Amara had a penchant for exotic cultures and could speak Japanese fluently," he replied reluctantly, "What does that have to do wit..."
"Just continue," I sighed, glaring at him.
"Anyway, just before her murder, the woman was in her bedroom as her manservant was tending to her lawn outside. Th..."
"Where was the Japanese maid at the time?" I questioned.
"Well, if you would let me finish, I would gladly let you know," Dorian replied bitterly, "Her maid claimed to be in the kitchen at the time, finishing up the dishwashing. That night, at around 9 pm., the sound of gunfire alerted the fortune teller's three companions, who gathered at the hallway in front of her bedroom door, which was locked. The Japanese maid called out something to the old lady, but Amara wouldn't answer them, so the manservant proposed that they axe the door down, but the granddaughter refused, claiming that she was to inherit the house if her grandmother was dead and she didn't want any part of it destroyed. The maid, not having understood the granddaughter's orders then ran to the other room, grabbed a pistol and shot the lock. The door swung open to reveal Amara, dead in her wheelchair, shot through her forehead."
"That's it? That's the case that required my kidnapping?!" I exclaimed, and at his menacing glare continued "It's quite simple really, the murderer is the Japanese maid, it wasn't the first gunshot that killed the old fortune teller but the second. The maid knocked on the door and yelled out something in Japanese, probably along the lines of 'Someone is trying to kill you, move away from the windows and come to the door.' So in other words, the maid knew the old lady was alive and tricked her into coming near the door, just before rushing to shoot the lock and the lady in tandem. Amara was shot through her left eye because she was trying to peer through the keyhole, and if you look in the room next door, you'll find the first bullet that was shot, by the maid, in order to bring everyone in the house together and frighten the fortune teller."
Dorian appeared astonished at first, but slowly his expression grew into his irritating smirk and brought his hands under his chin.
"Just as I thought, what a spectacular brain on you!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Now the one thing we couldn't figure out was the motive. Would you happened to know?"
"Not enough pieces to put together," I replied simply, "Did the maid say anything when you arrested her? Also, what was shot in the next room?"
"The only thing that was damaged was a mirror in the room next door, shot right through the middle.The maid was also blabbing some nonsense about a long life and some kind of Japanese prayer," Dorian said, scratching the back of his head, "Funny enough, it was actually her 20th birthday that day. Not much of a happy birthday, though." He chuckles.
"A mirror, huh? Well, this is just a theory, but the Japanese have a cultural belief in fortune telling and mirrors are usually used to tell prophecies about a person's life. I'm guessing the maid was told by Amara that she was to die on her 20th birthday and in order to reverse her prophecy, she believed that killing someone, or in other words giving up their soul in place of hers, would deter her life ending at 20 years." I finished, glancing up at Dorian, who had an eerie grin on his face, "So how did I do?"
"You did very well, better than I expected actually," his grin grew as he went on, "A gray w..."
