Murder On Fifth Street

CHAPTER 1: MURDER?

It's a cold night in downtown Newport, armies of seagulls flocked down to clean up the streets as moonlight danced between cracks in the walls and sirens could be heard in the late night. Newport was the capital of murder, or so the locals baptized this name on the town. Not far from the square lived a short stumpy muscular man, piercing blue eyes with short textured messy hair, hanging above his scars. Brilliant he was, but consumed by his uncontrollable habit of drinking. Walls lined up with bottles of ports, whiskey, and imported brandies. Carl Nate was the best Detective in Newport although his addiction controlled his abilities. When sober, he could determine a case within minutes. That is until 8 pm that night.

"commissioner" yelled a young detective, pageboy hair with small round spectacles, perched on a fat bulbous nose, tall and lean. He was commissioner pellet's right-hand man Jordan beige. He was Newport's youngest Detective although underestimated this Detective could work harder than any other detective in Newport. That is until the murder on fifth street. "What is it man," asked the commissioner "murder sir, fifth one this week sir" Newport's reputation has been dragged through the mud since the boulevard murderer showed up. All murders with similar occurrences all females found under bridges all over Newport a note left at the scene detailing the next killing. Although every time an officer showed up, the murder had been committed. Puzzled commissioner pellet ordered Jordan to take any evidence and report back to him. The murder had been committed at 8 pm downtown in the fifth street more like an alleyway to be precise. The walls were splatted with blood, and a dumpster covered the scene from view. Carl Nate was on his way to the location to investigate. "What have we got coroner John," asked Nate "Unfortunately my boy, we have another murder all with blunt objects and alas a female". "Has the killer left a note at the scene?" he asked calmly.

"of course lad, it's stuck to the fire door to your right" carl peered over the dumpster and started to sway side to side. The few whiskeys he's had has been putting him in a state of no return. "I've got this go home" a voice echoed throughout the alleyway. A shadow crept closer. "aren't you too old for games Abigail?" said Nate, Abigail Sinclair was a colleague of carls always a competition between the two it began at the academy and continues. Abigail a stylish woman with fiery red-haired ponytails with a face riddled with freckles and a scar above her right cheek, walked over and helped carl up. "when are you going to learn to leave the alcohol moron" she hissed. "not in the mood abs... I'm going to solve this mur- "suddenly carl collapsed". "take him back to his place Jordan". "yes Ms Abigail" replied Jordan.

Abigail searched the dumpsters for clues nothing but trash she thought. Deep beneath garbage containers and take out trays she found a bloody glove belonging to a Mr graves Pickett. "Jordan, send this to the medical lab for analysis". "Jordan is talking Mr carl to his home but can I be of service miss?" said a young female officer jenny penny. She wore black overalls and tasked with transporting evidence to the lab. "of course jenny take this to the fellas at the lab make sure they get it". "right away miss".

Later that evening carl woke to the sounds of birds screeching across the skies. Ugh, he whispered. He walked over to the mirror and saw a ghastly reflection. Perhaps this addiction would be his undoing, he thought. He got dressed and ready to follow up on this lead Abigail had found. He glanced at the shelf of his "medicine", and in disgust, he slammed the door behind him. He ran as fast as his legs could take him down the rocky streets. It was still early. Lights again illuminated the streets; fog surrounded the area like a blanket. This is like pea soup, he thought. In a few minutes, he arrived at the precinct. He sneaked over to Abigail's desk and using his quick senses, he swiped the bag of evidence and casually walked out of the precinct. The address of one Mr graves Pickett had been written above the bagged evidence. 223 calypso lane, Newport. If I remember correctly, he's the grave keeper at the local cemetery he snapped out loud before he could stop himself. In a few steps, he was in front of the gate, allowing passage to the cemetery. Large round gates with two stone gargoyles swung open as if pushed by the wind. Carl walked in and searched for the shack in which the grave keeper lived.

Among the gravestones was a small cabin worn down but still a liveable area he thought. In the distance, a light shone through the fog. It cut through like a razor blade. "good evening" said a ghostly figure "I'm Mr graves what brings you to the valley of the dead" he chuckled. Carl flew backward as if hit by a train. "jeez sir you scared the life out of me". "that's what I do sonny hehe" he chuckled. "anyways you have a few questions to answer for the detective agency" said carl out of breath.

"fire away detective" he reassured calmly. "what was your glove doing at the scene of the crime at the fifth street?". "I'm the grave keeper I take the reports to file for the funeral" he replied. "Then why would you leave your glove at the crime scene?". Must have fallen in when I placed them on the dumpster to inspect the body" he said calmly. "you're a suspect to the crime Mr graves" said Carl. "I'll be back with more questions when the body has been autopsied" "goodbye detective," he said in a malicious voice. Dead lead, he thought. What was Abigail thinking? Suddenly out of the blue, WHACK!! A significant object with a sharp front had stuck his head; carl toppled sideways. Carl awoke to see Abigail frowning above him holding her gun. "why did you take my lead nutcase?" she said. "you can't interrogate like me" he said clutching his aching head "what's that supposed to mean?" she said holding her gun in a two-handed grip.

"it was a dead lead anyways he has an alibi there's no way we can pin this on him plus he can't possibly be the boulevard murderer," he said. Abigail frowned again "anyone can be the murderer no one is safe" she bellowed "I'm pretty sure this creep is only interested in females". "that may be true she said "but you never now sickos usually change their minds now, and then ya know," she said.

Back at the precinct, the commissioner is strutting around like he's in agony.

"what up chief? said Nate. "I see you don't reek of booze" he chuckled "cut the jokes chief" carl snapped back. "another murder Sherlock," said commissioner pellet. "downtown by the lighthouse this time a male the strange thing is it's the grave keeper graves, Pickett," he said, his face white as a sheet.

"What!! No way! I was there this morning I interrogated him abou-" about what!" said commissioner pellet. "you stole Abigail's lead again, didn't you? ... I order you and Abigail to check out that lighthouse for clues on the double!!! Detective! "right away chief".

"come on ginger we're going to investigate the lighthouse," said Nate. It was about 9 pm when they reached the lighthouse. "What do we have coroner?" said Nate. "This time male my boy a Mr graves Pickett found with a gunshot wound to the abdomen and a gun in his hand," he said.

"Great, now Mr creepy thinks he's a marksman," said Nate. "but no note this time lad," said John. "you think he knew we were on to him?" said Abigail "perhaps" replied Nate. "although why the grave keeper? He was an oldie he wouldn't hurt a fly I think". "perhaps the killer planted the glove to throw us off the lead?" she asked. I think maybe graves was afraid carl thought to himself.

"I don't think he would frame graves and kill him abs," said Carl. "That's true," said Abigail. Back at the precinct, Jordan was running tests on the glove. This glove belonged to graves all right, but this blood is the victim's Maria petzler's... but strangely this glove is only sold in tapioca lane south of Newport it's too far for graves to travel he thought.