Million Dollar Mystery

I took multiple fortifying breaths as I allowed the news to sink in. It was late evening, as my shadow loomed over a blue-lipped, ghostly white figure: my sister, Primrose Cess. Even in her poisoned state, her elaborated golden curls still flowed gracefully around her head as she lay peacefully upon a jet-black duvet. Her eyes had been closed, feigning a calm slumber. Her cold as marble hands, however, informed me of otherwise. She was draped in an elegant magenta dress that reminded me horribly of blood. She was rich. She was beautiful. She was smart. This was no suicide. This was murder. Cold-blooded murder. So at whose hands did she perish? She was my sister. She deserved the answer. And I was going to give it to her.

I cautiously peered out the glass door to the balcony, should the assassin remain. All that met the eye, however, was the snow blizzard that had commenced a few hours prior. Impeding dread filled my stomach, as I realised that the culprit was residing within the family mansion. Feet, muffled by socks, impacted the ground, diverting my attention to the ajar door of the room. I caught sight of some teal silk before the exit was re-engulfed by darkness. I raced to the door, peering desperately down the pitch-black hallway. As nothing came into view, I suddenly became aware of the presence of a single piece of paper, floating gently towards the ground. Heart pounding away, I reached for it and perused the six words inscribed upon it in blotted ink:

“Keep quiet or you’ll be next”.

Though cruelly simplistic, they pierced me like a dagger.

***

As morning came, I ensured that my step-mother and Prim’s husband (the only residents), were busy before furtively re-entering the crime scene. A piece of paper was just visible between her fists, clenched with such force that it looked almost impossible to remove. Taking extreme care, I extracted the crinkled paper, before hastily scrutinising its contents. The words were crafted in the same blotted ink as the death threat, only this time they read, “Chocolates for you my darling…” A faint smudge of red lipstick was just visible in the corner of the note. My heart yearned for me to confront the culprit, though my brain urged for a confirmation. I soundlessly exited the room before making for the door at the end of the hall- my stepmother’s room.

I stepped onto the threshold of her walk-in closet, unwittingly catching an overwhelming whiff of her sickeningly sweet perfume. Strewn upon the floor, was a small collection of her shoes, each with their distinct heel, bound to emit resounding sounds as she walked. A shimmer of teal material caught my eye. I directed my attention to the dress, which had evidently attempted obscuring an irregular mass. It was the box of chocolates. I had seen enough. With my heart in my throat, I strode towards the kitchen, where the suspects were assembled.

‘A murder occurred yesterday. Someone in this room is the killer.’ I confronted, watching the reaction that ensued. As my step-mother commenced sobbing incessantly, Christopher stared straight ahead, unwilling to acknowledge the news.

‘You killed her didn’t you?’ I politely enquired. Revealing a knife, I directed it unwaveringly at Christopher.

‘She was prepared to file a divorce. She was going to leave you broke and you absolutely loathed her for doing so. So much it coerced you into murder. You bestowed her hazelnut chocolates- poisoned, unbeknownst to her. You imprudently attempted to enforce my stepmother as your scapegoat, only you forgot her signature heels, leaving no trace of sound as you discarded me a note. You neglected to acknowledge Step-mother’s allergy to nuts, therefore making it highly improbable that she should keep them in her closet. You placed red lipstick on the note, despite her allergenic nature. Foolishly, you allowed no hint of her luxurious perfume to remain within the crime scene’s atmosphere. You attempted to frame Step-mother. You ruined my family. You killed my sister.’

Angry tears spilled onto my cheeks, as my last sentence resonated through the air. I glanced in the murderer’s direction, though it thoroughly disgusted me to be in such a vicinity. Rage and defiance filled his eyes. No sign of remorse, no sign of regret. ‘Go ahead, run, but though the blizzard is diminishing, you won’t make it far, I promise,’ I whispered. A small flash of a smile managed to cross my lips as distant police sirens began to ring through the air.

***

 I gazed mesmerised as delicate snowflakes danced with the wind through the façade of the glass door that lead to the porch. The blizzard was gone. The murderer was gone.

But my sister was also gone.