Ennis twisted around to look out the window. It was still early in the morning, and the sun had just risen, but the bus he sat in was already bouncing down the road, stopping every few blocks and picking up early risers and sleepy workers. He was used to this, boarding everyday at 6:00 sharp, coffee in hand. Today was no different, and the seat across him was occupied by a woman reading a newspaper. He studied the large text of the front page curiously. There had been an Easter egg hunt in the park earlier that week, and a child had returned with a basket-full of gaudy plastic eggs and something else: word of a body hidden in the tall grass. According the paragraph Ennis had to squint to read, the egg hunt had been called off, and a different hunt, more ominous, had started. The body had been found hours later, hidden well in the field, when a police officer had trodden on something soft and smelled a putrid scent. All present at the time had been taken in for questioning.
Ennis scrutinized the cover photo; a crowd of unhappy parents, children, and observers. They looked dismayed that it could have been possible that the cops suspected them as the culprits. Among the crowd though, he noticed something strange. In the front, next to an officer, there stood a woman wearing a business suit, a large smile on her face. It looked like she was enjoying the interrogation. Could she have been the killer? Ennis relished stories like this, where he could read the story, study the picture, then come up with his own idea on whodunit.
He closed his eyes and pictured the scene; a child, tears streaking his cheeks, stood, basket in hand, blubbering almost incomprehensibly about a corpse in the grass. Beside, him stood his mother, worrying over him like a mother hen. In the background stood the businesswoman, her grin almost sinister. A handle poked out of her briefcase, that of a small pocket knife. There was a faint red-brown stain on her sleeve, like dried blood.
No, it's all wrong, thought Ennis. If she had committed the crime, there was next to no chance that she would be so careless and leave a bloodstain on her sleeve and the incriminating evidence in plain sight. He returned his gaze to the newspaper, and focused on a woman looking up at the ceiling. She seemed particularly angry, completely the opposite of the other woman
And again, Ennis closed his eyes. The angry woman stomped across the field, hands deep in her pant's pockets, no child by her side. Well of course, the offender most probably was not a parent, for fear of their child finding their weapon of choice in their bedroom one night. She walked forwards with her head down, glaring agressively at the grass. Suddenly, she bumped into a man just as she entered the large patch of tall grasses. Ennis imagined that somebody that irritated would be inclined to do some unnecessary things. She whipped her hand out of her pocket, a small blade glinting in the afternoon sun.
Nope. He shook his head. It couldn't have been. There had been too many people at the park, and even if the crime had been committed the night before, the midnight joggers would most likely have noticed something strange about an angry woman stalking straight across the field.
Looking again at the page, he noticed another oddity. A lanky figure wearing a trench coat and a fedora. His face was hidden by the brim of the hat, and his hands were covered, almost completely, by the baggy sleeves that hung over his fingertips. This man, thought Ennis, looked the part to be a sinister character.
Just then, the bus stopped, throwing Ennis forward in his seat. He straightened and chuckled, then, realizing they had arrived at his stop, he got up and stepped out through the folded doors. From the back of the bus, a tall man stood up. The brim of his hat was pulled low over his eyes, and as he exited behind Ennis, a small plastic egg tumbled out of the pocket of his overcoat.
