Accused, R.T. Adams [easy readers TXT] 📗

did it. When looking at the bodies, I found no bullets, only bullet holes. There were no traces of the knife, or knives, that were used, and there was nothing else that I could possibly use to find out who it was. The police department has probably already pulled the tape from the cameras and asked the cashiers and other people in the incident about it.

“Thanks anyways, Russell,” I said, hanging up without receiving a word back from him. I stepped out of my apartment and was on my way to the police department. Once I had arrived, I noticed that everyone was in a very gloomy mood. I walked over to the current subordinate head.

“Hello Detective,” he said to me.

“I need to know if you’ve pulled the tape from the cameras, or if you’ve asked any of the other people in the area about the incident,” I said.

“We’ve pulled the tape, but it didn’t get any feed on the murderer’s face. It would seem that he was wearing a mask during the entire session of his murder, so none of the others saw his face, either,” he told me. The last chance at capturing him, but he still manages to slip. Who the hell is this guy anyway. I turned without a word and exited the building with pent up rage inside, but nothing to release it on. Would the captain just die like that, without justice? If I have to, I will track down this man alone. I decided to walk around town for a bit, to see if I found anything of interest to me. After a few minutes of walking, I overheard two men talking about a party at the Westerfeld House. It would seem that Congressman Erik Jeans would be holding the party in honor of his daughter becoming a detective. It sounded interesting enough, and it would seem that it was being held at six o’clock tonight. As it was only five thirty now, it would imply I had thirty minutes to get there. As of now, it shouldn’t be too far, so I decided to walk. I had walked for about twenty minutes, and it had been right in front of me. I stepped up the stairs and came across a man standing at the door.

“Name,” he said.

“Joseph Lavine,” I said.

“Not on the list,” he said. It would seem that you had to be on the list in order to enter.

“Might a detective be able to enter?” I said.

“No, get out of here,” he continued to reject me. I walked off and decided to find a different way in. I went around the mansion and peered into a window. At the moment, no one was in that specific room, so I lifted the window and began climbing in, slowly and steadily. Soon, I was in and closed the window, walking out of the room and into a larger room which held multiple people. I looked around and found Erik, himself. Around here, Erik had been a popular face, so just about everyone knew him. Standing next to him was no other than his daughter, Emma Jeans. Not to mention, she wore a black suit, along with a tie and slacks instead of a skirt. She had short brown hair and, standing next to her father, seemed short. I found my way through the crowd of people, approaching both of them.

“Hello Erik,” I tried to strike up a conversation.

“Who might you be?” he replied.

“My name is Joseph Lavine,” I said. He simply just looked at me, rather suspiciously.

“I don’t recall a Mister Lavine on the list?” he said. It would seem that he formed the list, himself.

“No need to worry about that,” I said, “I’m simply just a detective who has connections.” Right, connections. With a window.

“I see,” he said, “Very well then.” I looked over to his daughter. I knew Erik had a daughter, but I never knew her name, nor that she was rather on the cute side.

“If it doesn’t trouble you, what would your daughter’s name be?” I asked Erik.

“Emma,” he said, “Did you not know?”

“Just a forgetful mind, that’s all,” I said. That was a plain lie. If I had that forgetful of a mind, how would I be a detective?

“If you have a forgetful mind, how would it be that you’re a detective?” Emma spoke up.

“Simple, a notepad,” I said. I do have a notepad with multiple things on it, including the evidence from the McDonald’s murder.

“May I see it?” she asked. Without a word, I pulled a notepad from my left back pocket and handed it to her. She looked over it, examining each page carefully. She just sighed and handed it back to me.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

“No, just that it seems like you were the detective to investigate the murder of my mother,” She said. Now that I think of it, that is true. I do recall a different person with the last name of Jeans in one of my past investigations. If I remember, I believe the murder took place in North Dakota, in just a small apartment. I did find out who it was, and they had been sentenced to several years of prison.

“Very well,” I said, “I suppose I’ll leave you two to your own actions.” I turned and walked off, to nowhere in specific.

Hours had passed since I arrived, but nothing significant had come around. I had been moving around the party, looking around for anything potentially suspicious. As of now, though, I was leaning against a wall, examining the room. There wasn’t much to be wary of, as of now. However, I heard a scream coming from nearby, so I started weaving through the crowd. Once I got to the source of the scream, I found Erik on the ground, as well as blood. A murder, right here, right where I was. With such a cluster of people, I guess it wouldn’t be too hard to kill someone, then quickly run off. I saw a woman at her knees, so I walked over to her.

“Ma’am, may I ask if you saw the person who killed him?” I knelt down next to her and asked. However, she just kept staring at the body. I stood, turned around to the people.

“How could this happen?” I heard from the crowd.

“Who could have done this?” from another person. The people seemed shocked.

“Did anyone see who did this?” I yelled. However, it was useless. No one responded. I was frustrated. How could this happen right here, only a few meters away from me, and yet, I didn’t have a single clue as to who did it, yet. I knelt down next to the body and began observing. All I found was a single stab wound in his neck, but nothing else. There was no proper evidence for anything.

“Detective,” I heard a familiar voice come from behind me, “What’s going on?” Once the person emerged from the crowd, I saw who it was. It was Emma. She saw the body, and just stood there.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I said, “Your father has been murdered.” It was painful to just stand there and watch as a woman broke down in tears, but there was nothing I could do about it. I simply just turned to the exit and walked off. There is no evidence, there are no cameras in this room. No one would speak up, so my decision ends on contacting the new captain of the police department, my own cousin. I exited the building, walking down the few steps there were, and continued on my way to the police department. Once I entered, I looked around for my cousin.

“Hello Detective,” one of the officers approached me.

“I need to know where my cousin is,” I said.

“The captain?” he said, “He’s in his office, that way.” The officer pointed me towards my cousin’s office, so I headed there. I opened the door and looked around. I’ve been in this office many times before, but it felt different without the previous captain. My cousin looked up from his papers and noticed me.

“Joseph, how have things been?” he stood and walked over to me.

“Not exactly the best right now,” I said, shaking his hand.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“Erik Jeans was murdered at his own party today, but I can’t find any evidence,” I said.

“What?” he seemed surprised, “You mean, the Congressman?”

“Yes,” I said. My cousin walked past me and out the door. I could hear him raising his voice, telling the officers about the incident. I walked out of the office as they were heading out. Behind them, I followed. Several officers and I arrived shortly to the scene. Some people already fled, while others stood. The woman who screamed had been in a man’s arm, presumably her husband.

“Who all saw this happen?” my cousin turned to me and asked.

“There was a woman who screamed when it happened,” I pointed over to the woman in the man’s arms, “Her.” My cousin walked over to the man and woman and began talking. Once he finished with them, he came back over to me.

“She stated that she saw a person in a black coat with a mask and a hood, no skin showing at all. I’m afraid we can’t find out who it was,” he told me. A familiar description.

“It’s definitely a man,” I said.

“How do you know?” he asked.

“The same description as the man who murdered the previous captain, Jarold,” I said.

“How can you be so sure that there aren’t multiple people in masks running around?” he asked.

“How often do you see multiple people wearing masks, murdering people?” I said.

“Not that often,” he responded. I turned to the body and walked over as the police were escorting the others outside.

“There’s no evidence, then,” I said, “There’s no way to find out who did it.”

“We could look for fingerprints,” my cousin said.

“He doesn’t leave anything like that. After all, the woman did say there was no skin showing, didn’t she?” When I refreshed his mind, he looked stumped. I saw Emma, sitting against a wall at the far end of the room, away from the body.

“Who’s that?” my cousin asked.

“Emma Jeans, Erik Jeans’ daughter. The party was to honor her becoming a detective,” I replied.

“I see,” he said. I walked over to her. When she noticed me, she looked up.

“What do you want?” she said.

“Do you have any idea who could have done this? Anyone who disliked your father?” I asked her.

“No, why would I know?” she said.

“You are his daughter, after all,” my cousin spoke up. She just sighed and stood.

“I don’t know anyone who would have the need to murder my father,” she said.

“Would it help to give you a description of the person who murdered him?” I asked her.

“Yes, it would,” she responded.

“The man was wearing a black coat, as well as a hood and a mask. As explained, he wasn’t showing any skin,” my cousin said.

“I see,” she looked down and sighed, but, apparently, something caught her eye, as she grabbed my wrist and pulled it upwards.

“What is it?” I asked, startled.

“What about you?” she said, “You have gloves on, as well as you aren’t showing any skin.”

“What?” I said, “How do you explain the fact that the man had a black coat, a hood, and a mask on?”

“You could have snuck it out before re-appearing to act as if you were examining my father’s body,” she said.

“What?” I said, “Your story doesn’t make sense. Besides, I have no reason to murder your father.”

“Remember what the Corporate Bomber said?” she said. Then it came to me, he never really had a proper motive.

“I don’t have a black coat with a hood, nor a mask,” I said, “Examine my house if you want.” I was giving them full permission to observe my home if they needed to.

“Very well,” she said. She walked out of the room.

“You’re in a tough spot, Joseph,” my cousin said, “I don’t think you did