7 Crows

Chapter One | 12:01

Chapter One

12:01 am. New Year's day.

The sudden bang of fireworks impaled the silence of the night and the sky became alive with energetic chemical reactions producing garish colors and sounds. Over the explosion of the fireworks and the terrible roar of the wind charging against her, she could hear her phone ringing; demanding to be taken.

She slowed down her Triumph Bonneville and halted it by the shoulder of the road. She ripped the helmet off by one hand with a flair of ease and then pulled out her phone. Not even bothering to check the caller ID, she answered the call right away. "Loxley speaking."

"It's Blaine," greeted the habituated voice of her fervent co-partner. "Where you at, Jay?"

"On my way home from the New Year's mayhem," Loxley scorned in distaste at the chemical explosion in the distance.

"Wait, you're telling me you actually took my word on board and let yourself have some fun?" Loxley could sense his waggish smirk that winded her up half the time right through the phone line.

"Don't jump for joy, Ebony," she said, settling back on the motorbike with an exaggerated casualness. "I'm reminded why I hardly take your advice. Never again."

"Hey!" He chuckled a low amused reverberation as he added, "Don't blame me if you don't know how to have fun, Miss all-work-and-no-play. Speaking of work, there's a dead body reported to be found in a motel at Wymond."

"Send me the location," she said, going into impetuous work mode; perching the helmet back on her head. "And meet me at the site, Blaine. But, first, I need to get out of this ridiculous dress." Loxley cut the call barely hearing his affirmation and an astounded 'you wore a dress?'.

She revved her motorbike at idling, before accelerating it and sped down the lone road; the high-revving whine trailed behind.

Loxley arrived at the crime scene in less than twenty-five minutes. The red and blue psychedelic flashing of the police-vehicle lights had claimed the area. She noted that the local police had already cordoned the site.

The engine died as she withdrew the keys. Loxley hung the helmet on the handlebar and hopped off the motorbike. She leaned against the leather saddle as she scanned the surroundings.

The motel was located on the outskirts of the town Wymond, on a piece of land along the bypass road to the heart of the nearest city. It was surrounded by a peculiar quiet atmosphere; too quiet that it possessed an uncanny and colorless effect.

Loxley's eyes moved up to the sign at the top of the building that read 'Motel 7 Crows' in neon red lights. The motel seemed vintage and run down; by the look of it designed and built in the eighties and appeared to be in neglect of care for a decade.

"This place just screams crime and danger." Approached the bearer of the phonecall voice, distracting her attention. "If you don't get murdered in your sleep, it's plausible you'll be crushed by falling ceiling or eaten alive by vermin. This motel is a freaking fossil." Ebony remarked, his native black accent shining through for a moment.

His tall figure was accoutred in his wonted double-breasted black suit, white shirt and smart shoes, with the addition of pine green winter coat for the weather. Being the penny-wise kind of man he is, Loxley was beyond dispute that whole of the attire was scoured from thrift shops and hand-me-downs. Loxley didn't even try to hide the enigmatic smile that took shape on her face at the sight of the flamboyant tie around his neck. Without doubt, it was chosen and straightened by his grandmother before he left the house.