Mirror, Mirror on the Wall ✓

3 | Stirring up a breeze

For creator_by_heart, whose constant support has contributed to the completion of this book. Thank you.

Chapter 3: Stirring Up a Breeze

'Ah, Detective Sanchez,' greeted Scott Morris, 'good afternoon. I thought my assailant was under arrest and the case closed. What brings you here, Detective?' The man was small and a bit plump, dressed in a shabby white shirt and black trousers. There were bags under his eyes. His face was covered in lines. Although the report said he was fifty, his disposition made him look ten years older. He held out his hand for the Detective to shake.

The Detective took his hand in response. It was clammy and shaky. Undoubtedly, Morris was under great stress. 'Just some trivial formalities, Mr Morris. Nice to meet you. Now without wasting any more time, take me where the incident took place.'

~

Soon they were standing in front of a life-sized mirror with intricate engravings. By looking at it, one could tell it had been a beautiful piece. But now a gaping hole sneered back at them from its middle. Innumerable cracks originated from the bullet hole. It was now just a mess of glass pieces. But, however beautiful it must have been once, it could pass for any ordinary customised mirror had it not been for a name engraved on the top: Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the first of England, France and Ireland.

'Scott, the report said you consider it your most valuable possession, may I know why?' enquired the Detective.

'Detective, this mirror held the most valuable place in my shop. As you might have guessed, it belonged to none other than Queen Elizabeth I. Even her name was engraved on the mirror! Something like this is the dream of history collectors like me. However, some rival of mine did not want to see my success. Look what they did.' His tone was full of grief as if someone he loved had passed away.

Detective Sanchez jutted in, 'And who is "they"?'

Scott Morris looked up with soulless eyes. 'Jerold Brent. My rival from the far end of the street. He could never stand my success. He had a habit of bragging about anything and everything. I remembered him telling me about a new assistant he had employed and how very efficient he was. Said he lessened his work by more than half. He was trying to make me jealous because I've always worked on my own and the last one I employed turned out to be a thief. He had tried to steal my precious articles. I had duly kicked him out. I've never employed anyone since. Jerold must have sent Ross-'

'Ross?'

'Jerold's assistant. He must have sent him to sabotage my most precious article. I can't even bring myself to look at it...I've claimed the insurance. At least I was lucky that I had got it insured.'

'Did you ever meet this man?'

'Only saw him. Once. He had been assisting Jerold Brent in an auction. His ring had caught my eye as I thought it was a bit peculiar. He would never have thought it would become an evidence against him one day.' A sly smirk crossed his lips. It vanished as soon as it had come. He let out a sigh. 'I'm shaken that anyone could stoop this low.'

'I'm sorry for you, Scott. I think there is nothing more to know. I'll take your leave.' And so the Detective and his sergeant departed.

'Sergeant Clark,' Detective Sanchez said when Scott Morris was out of earshot, 'I too think this is a straight case. But I'll still interrogate this Sanders guy. Want a lift to the station?'