When Corpses Lie

Two Broken People, One Dead

I sat down on the armchair, waiting for everybody else. After about 10 minutes  everybody arrived. I got up, got some chairs so everybody could sit down and returned. There was no one that fully understood what was going on.

- Why are we here? - Charles asked.

- Well... - I said. - You're here so you can earn you freedom. - (I don't know why I say things so dramatically). - Of course one of you won't be so lucky.

- So does that mean you know who did it?

- Yes. Now, I have no idea how that person could have done it. Such a cruel murder... And I can say that I am really disappointed at that person. I trusted them from the start and they betrayed me. Now, I want two people to stand up: Louise and Frank. I know you guys are innocent... So, in order for us to all live this night, I want you two to stay close to me. I don't want to exercise vengeance as soon as I hear a confession, you know? - They got up and stood up next to me. - Now, as for the actual case. There was something that confused me sinve the start: the timeline. Everybody that had a motive also had an alibi. So either you had both, or you had none. Laura was an exception but it was a very weak motive. Frank had the same motive and Louise and Danielle had an even weaker one. But anyway, the case itself made no sense whatsoever. And then I thought in Robert. He said that he went downstairs after going up to check if Stan had a pulse. And then he got knocked out.

If the killer was still there, then I would need to interrogate everybody else again, to get an alibi that would fit the time period the best. Everybody following me? - They nodded. - Cool. But what I asked about the alibi already included this time period, so another round of questions was not needed. Then I thought that the murderer was probably one of the people I hadn't interrogated. But that was also wrong... Because they had their alibi verified by other people... And then it hit me... What if Robert wasn't knocked out?

- What? - Robert stood up.

- Sit down. I'm not finished. Then I thought "No... He wouldn't do that. Stan was already dead.". But I remembered what I thought before: he might have not been dead yet. And the pieces fit. Stan himself pretended to be dead and then, while I was outside the house, Robert killed him.

- I didn't... - Robert started, but June asked:

- Why would he pretend to be dead?

- Good question... I was waiting for that. And the answer lies on Thomas. - Thomas' face gained a sense of perplex. - Don't worry, it's nothing bad. To put it simply, you were an accomplice without wanting to. You said this was a "prank weekend". So thinking that he was just pranking someone, he lied on the ground, with the fake blood from one of boxes around the house and a broken trophy close to him.

- That makes no sense. How would I get you off the house?

- Pure luck. You were the first to talk and you asked for me to go outside. And I trusted you.

But while I was off, you killed him, threw him off the window, along with a jacket and a pair of gloves you took from Laura's room when you went upstairs, and rolled your head on the blood that was on the ground so it would seem like you had been knocked out. Then you dragged yourself into the bathroom and pretend to be passed out until we would find you. - Everybody's eyes were focused on Robert.

- That's insane... Why would I have done it? - He said.

- Because of your father. I overheard a conversation just before the murder. You saying you didn't want your father to come between you and Stan's relationship. You didn't held a grudge on him, but you father lured you into a trap. He said your friend had some files that would prove his guilt. And so you thought of a clever scheme and took some pages of those files. However, your lack of attention made you take Hannah's files instead of his. His files had the pages numbered from 1 to 25 without any of them being missing, so I doublechecked her files.

- I didn't do... - Robert said.

- Just be honest with us.

- But I... - His face changed. He started crying and so did I, knowing what his tears meant. - My dad said that he needed me... He never needed me before... James you have to understand.

- You son of a bitch...

- James I didn't want to do it. But things got out of hand.

- You fucking prick! - I yelled.

- I'm so sorry. - Turning redder by the second, I picked up the maid's pocket knife that I had saved and charged into him