The Ballroom Murder Case

Eerie letters, a pretty young heiress with information, and a man marked for death...All encountered by our daring detective as he takes on his latest episode.

Hello, readers of this memoir. This is going to be the first of many stories that sum up the past few years of my life. I mean, you really could consider all one big story that's still going on, but for the sake of both your time and mine I'll chronicle it into parts. So I guess I should introduce myself, right? My name is Terra West. At the time of writing this I am fifteen years old, and I’m a student at Dakota Heights Regional High School, where I'm the twelfth of my class, I’m the daughter of my town’s Chief of Police, and, most recently, the assistant to a private detective. The following is all about how my simple, boring life was changed forever by one person. These memories are ones I’ll hold the rest of my life, and I’ll recount them through these entries the best I can. So let’s just jump right in, starting with the place this story began, high school...

I looked proudly at myself in the mirror of my locker as I ran a comb through my blond hair. It seemed the boys in school unanimously agreed that I was beautiful. A normal sophomore girl would just shut up and take the compliments, but I was beyond normal due to the fact that I was blessed with an extremely rare birth defect known by some as ‘intelligence’ and thus being seen as a potential sperm-receptacle by every jock in a varsity jacket wears thin pretty quickly. However, I wasn’t just taking a moment to be conceited and revel in my own beauty; I had plans for the day that called for me to look my best. Normally I’d hate getting dolled up and parading around in a fancy dress, but no way I was going to pass up this opportunity. My father, and by the extension myself, had been invited to one of Dakota’s most formal of events.

It was a charity benefit; a fancy banquet being thrown by Thomas Mason, one of our city’s richest and most important businessmen, at his own gazillion-dollar mansion. The place actually had a full ballroom on its first floor. Mason’s party was to be attended by the city’s wealthiest. Being allowed to show up there with all the rich, important people was an honor, and lucky for me it was one I could experience.

Though I was quite sure I looked like a living Barbie doll in the girly makeup my mother picked out, the lustful staring I got as I walked the halls reassured me. I’d only gotten the good news last night, so figured I’d test out my new look in school before being seen at the benefit, and the results were positive. For once, my bitter cynicism was replaced by excitement. All was not yet done, though; not only was I invited, but so was my best friend. He’s my age but he doesn’t attend any school so I had to visit him and tell him personally.

The bell rang and students flooded out, eager to taste freedom once more. I didn’t board the bus, however, instead I began the fifteen minute walk to where I knew that friend of mine would be. It wasn’t his home, but he liked to call it his ‘base of operations’. I used to call it an abandoned florist shop. I walked through my town, seeing the same sights as usual; the busy street corners, the neon signs, the high end fashion-wearing people and their expensive cars. Dakota is like a mix of living conditions. It’s a small taste of a big city with a slice of suburbia,, from its tall buildings and endless plazas to the shady, unsafe far end which we called ‘downtown’. Not before long, I reached the abandoned florist shop of solitude.

I grabbed the key from my purse and let myself in, greeted by the smell of incense. I kicked off my shoes and socks as I walked in, accustomed to the new carpet we had installed. Out of nowhere came our furry little companion, an adopted cat by the name of Ivory. She meowed and ran between my legs, rubbing her neck on my ankles. I bent to pat her on the head, then made my way down the short, narrow hallway and opened the door to his office.

All over the walls were mounted framed newspaper articles, all about him. Teenager Leads Police to Serial Burglar, Boy-Genius Offered Full Scholarships Across the World, Fifteen-year-old Catches Attempted Murderer. They were all about the same person, one unusual boy who goes by J. J DeMarcus, the abnormally gifted child who blew through high school in a matter of weeks and who dreamed since kindergarten of being the world’s greatest detective. J DeMarcus, my best friend.

He stood behind his desk, scrawling intentively on the chalkboard. By looking, one couldn’t tell him apart from any other teenager. He’s always stood at an average height with a generally thin build, complemented by his light brown skin and the giant mass of curly hair he always groomed ever so stylishly.

His back was still turned to me and I wasn’t even sure if he was aware I’d entered the room. I glanced down at the desk of his. All over it were papers with complex formulas and scientific records, and among that were textbooks of all kinds bigger than my head, each and every one of them read front to back in succession and discarded accordingly. Every time I entered his little study room it seemed more and more like Steven Hawkings’ wet dream.

“In the dungeon again, J?” I said as I closed the door behind me.

“Hello to you too, Terra.” He uttered without even turning around to look at me.

He turned around, wiping chalk off his hands with a tissue. Clad in a designer dress shirt and a fancy vest, he looked presentable as I'd come to expect considering his obsession with dressing nicely. He paused for a second and looked me over, raising a brow and giving a blank look. That usually meant he was thinking. I hate when he gave me that look.

“Why the makeup, Tee?”

J has eyes like a hawk, he notices when I act out of the ordinary and can spot irregularities in seconds. He and I had a relationship unlike any other, mainly due to the fact that I was one of the few people who he actually seemed to enjoy talking to from time to time.

“I didn’t get enough beauty sleep last night.” I shot sarcastically. He looked me over once more.

“Likely, you were sleeping through math class last period. Maybe you exhausted yourself with that long phone conversation over lunch. But anyway, are you excited for Thomas Mason’s benefit?”

I gave him a sharp look. J was doing that thing again. See, this was the very first time I’d seen or interacted with him all day. I didn’t tell him any of those details, he had a way of, well let’s just say observing things.

“Okay, how’d you do that?” I sighed. It was basically a routine to ask him that. He smiled and rolled his eyes like I was a toddler or something.

“Easy,” he began, motioning toward the side of my face. “As for the phone talking: your right ear is slightly red and dispositioned. Since you do most things with your left hand it’s probably because a phone was pushed up against it. And because it’s still visible it couldn’t have been too long ago, and had to go on for a long time, thus making it clear it was done in school while you weren’t in class.”

I frowned and felt my ear. How the hell does he notice these things?

“And you were sleeping last period. When you closed the door I saw the little lead smudges on the back of your sleeve, so I’m guessing you were resting your head on your arm, and you must have been drifting off since you didn’t notice you were leaning on your open notebook.”

“I wasn’t sleeping I just zoned out!” I defended, rubbing my sleeve.  

“Whatever makes you feel better.” He smirked as he grabbed a can of soda from the room’s table and took a sip. As you could probably guess, my friend J was absurdly good at making those observations. He could tell a complete stranger their life story from three minutes of staring at them. This little skill of his is what got him in the papers.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, raising his brow again. “Was I right about us getting invited to that benefit tonight?”

“Yeah, how did you-”

“You never wear makeup, there had to be a special occasion. Coupled with the short notice, process of elimination tells me it’s the charity thing everyone’s talking about.”

“Buzzkill,” I sneered, walking over and snatching the can from his hand. “So how shall we make our entrance?”

“Separate and from different doors.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored that remark as I sipped from his soda. Ugh, non-diet soft drinks practically burn my flesh with contact.

“Please, going with me will be the closest thing to a homecoming date you’ll get.”

“As much as I’d love to effortlessly steal the attention away from you tonight, I’m not going.”

I nearly choked on the soda. “Not going?”

“No,” he shrugged. “There’s discoveries to be made, and I got better things to do than hang around a bunch of fancy snobs in suits.”

I should’ve known he’d decline the invite. Aside from helping the police and mastering quantum physics, J spent his study time devising new, clever, and innovative methods of being a thick-headed jackass. I guess you could call it a part of his charm.

“Ugh, you suck.”

“Love you too.” He casually stole the drink back from my hands.

“Now what am I gonna do? I’ll have no one to talk to besides a bunch of old rich people.”

“You’ll live. And plus you-know-who will probably be overjoyed.”

He was referring to my father, Chief West of Dakota’s police force. As a man devoted to law enforcement, nothing was more belittling then some high school freshman joining in and doing a better job at it. Even though it’s been some time since J’s last police adventure, my dad still had hard  feelings. J was beyond a model student and an entirely positive influence, but I think my dad would much rather have me be best friends with a dropout or a drug dealer if it meant the DeMarcus kid wouldn’t be a factor in his life.

“Come on, J, are you really gonna leave me hanging like this?”

“Stop worrying, Terra. Just go and have fun.”

I frowned and shot him the oneofakind Terra West-scowl.

“Later then.” I said as I left the office.

 

The walk home was a less triumphant one. I was a little bummed at the lost opportunity; I'd been so busy with all my advanced placement schoolwork and he'd been so caught up with becoming a town hero we were having less and less time to see each other. It seemed like forever since we hung out and did something fun. I sighed, then shrugged away the thought. In about fifteen minutes I arrived at my house, hurried to my doorstep and thrust it open.

“I’m home!” I sang as I made my way upstairs. My mom was spending her usual three-hour preparing time in the bathroom, while my dad was bitterly re-evaluating their marriage while fully-suited and watching TV.

“Hey, dad. When do we leave?”

“We have to be there by 4:30. Get ready now, kid.”

I bolted to my room and changed, slipping into my ‘special occasion’ dress and brand new shoes. God, I hate heels. I fell back onto my bed and decided to kill time somehow while my vanity-obsessed mother finished up. I wonder what local stars I can bum photo-ops from tonight.

I grabbed my laptop, a cutting-edge birthday present still looking fresh and new as when I first opened it. I took a quick trip through the interwebs to look up information about the shindig we were attending. Rather disappointingly, the list of attendees was classified information. Disappointingly for those trying to keep it hidden, I was Terra West, computer expert; a few clicks and keystrokes later the server’s security system was cracked open on its back. After all, has any vet’s feline medical book actually listed ‘curiosity’ as a cause of death?

At first glance, the names were expected. Local businessmen, upper-class families, the usual. Maybe I’d just been hanging around the office too long to snap out of sleuth-mode, but I was soon startled by a noticeable pattern: There were a lot of police officers there. J’s methods of thought replicated in my own head; the boys in blue weren’t listed as Officers, Deputies, Sergeants, or Chiefs, there names were stated plainly (I just recognized the name’s from donut runs with my Dad) therefor if they were heading out for police work, they didn’t want the general public knowing. All the details started coming together. It was a nighttime event held directly in an eccentric millionaire’s house, full of important people and a lot of money was going to be donated, if there were ever a time and place to do something a tad illegal this benefit would be it.

Maybe the cops are going undercover because they’d gotten word that something shady was going to go down tonight...

“We’re ready now, Terra,” my mom called from downstairs. “Come on, before we’re late.”

Or maybe it’s just a coincidence.

I closed down my computer and shook those worrisome thoughts from my head. I reminded myself that I’d be attending the night as Terra West the valedictorian, not Terra West the crime investigator.

“Coming, mom.” I called back, rushing to get dressed. And like that, we were off.

The sun was setting by the time we arrived at the Mason manor. Surrounded by limousines and wildly expensive sports cars, my family of three humbly exited my dad’s jeep. The car ride was a happy one as we were all genuinely excited by the honor of attending, and my dad was practically beaming at the news that his night would be J-less. Nervous feelings tensed my stomach as we walked in. The moment we entered  through the enormous, wooden double doors my dad’s beaming turned to a frustrated scowl.

“We’re late for the main event,” he said, shooting my mom a look. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, hush,” my mother shot back. “It just started.”

The whole facility was dimmed, with a spotlight on the podium at the center of the ballroom. Behind it stood the man of the hour, Thomas Mason himself; the wealthy businessman who gathered everyone to his home for the event. Like every charity banquet he threw, there was a big spectacle made about him signing some absurdly huge check to some obscure cause. This time it was the less obscure aiding of Dakota Children’s Hospital.

Mason stood up and waved for the cameras, then his old, stocky butler rushed up to hand him his pen.

“Thank you, Willard,” he said, taking the pen and freezing as soon as he saw it. “Green, Willard?”

“I thought it was the color you requested?”

“I think you messed up again, Willie. Don’t you see this red suit I spent a fortune on?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then why would I commemorate the night with another color? I am a man of fashion, everything has to fall into place.”

“Sorry, sir. I wasn’t aware matching colors mattered.”

Another man stepped forward. Bob Mason, Thomas’ older and equally-loaded brother. He laughed the kind of snobbish, condescending type of laugh that could only be created by a self-centered, middle aged rich person.

“You can’t get good help these days,” he said, openly dismissing the incompetent butler. “Here, you go, Tommy. You can always count on family when your service can’t get it together.”

The elder Mason handed him a new pen, properly blue, and shooed off poor Willard. The butler gave a look of anger, which was quickly replaced with a sigh of defeat as he trailed off to get more hors d’oeuvres for the guests. What a sad existence that guy must lead.

As usual, Mason gave a giant painted-on grin, touched his tongue to the tip of the pen, and scribbled away on the paper before him, leaving behind an ostentatious array of swirls and wavy lines that were supposed to pass for the man’s name. Everyone in the building clapped and cheered, and the check was carried away by another of Mason’s lackeys.

“Thank you all for attending,” Mr. M said in a jolly swoon. “I hope you thoroughly enjoy the rest of your evening!”

The lights cut back on and everyone around went on with their festivities. The ballroom sprung with life, filled to the brim with people in suits and dresses, and I noted my surroundings. From this portion of Mason’s mansion, I could tell his home fondly reflected his eccentric personality. It was an old, gothic looking place, complete with abstract paintings and eerie portraits lining the walls. There were a bunch of tables set up for families to sit and dine, pushed aside for vast emptiness in the center for dancing, mingling, and other fancy activities. Crystal chandeliers illuminated the place, and classical piano music greeted my ears. They actually had a jukebox! What is this, the stone age? A smile came over my features. I was officially ready to party like them rich folk.

‘Partying’ was apparently a term used loosely, or one to describe being dragged by my parents to meet people. Throughout the constant greetings and introductions, I was paraded around like a trophy for all the rich people to compliment and gawk at. I wasn’t entirely sure how that made me feel but at least I was making a good impression. So far, the night’s biggest challenges were learning to walk in my open-toed heels and not dropping my dress’ sparkly sequins everywhere.

Then, suddenly the focus of the room shifted. With no warning everyone began pointing and calling. I looked to the door to see the cause of the commotion and in walked a teenage, model-looking girl in a designer dress that must’ve cost more than my dad’s car, diamonds glowing brightly from her silver necklace to her matching earrings and bracelets, and an exotic hairstyle groomed to perfection. There might as well have been a red carpet rolled out and a spotlight on her.

I don’t really keep up with pop culture too well, but the girl’s face seemed so familiar. Like I’d seen her on the cover of a magazine or something, and then it hit me. Clarissa Troy, the daughter of Maxwell and Mary Troy (the richest stockholders in the state) and the single heiress to her family’s enormous fortune. Maxwell Troy was like a lazier, douchier, version of your most iconic entrepreneur, now having a massively successful chain of hotels under his name. He and his near-famous family were here proved this little shindig to be more high profile than I expected.

I gasped in shock as I looked across the room and saw Max Troy himself walk in and shake hands with my father. My dad knew someone like that and I was never told! For the best friend of a prodigal investigator, I was seriously out of the loop. Troy and my father shook hands and exchanged a laugh, and after a few seconds of indistinct conversation, my dad pointed at me. Troy waved at me and motioned me to come with a smile. Caught off guard, I awkwardly smiled back and bumbled over to see what he wanted.

“So you’re the sweet girl West keeps rambling about.” he said warmly.

“Yeah, I guess.” I replied, followed by an uncomfortable fake laugh.

“You’re about the same age as my daughter,” he turned and called toward her. “Clairie! Come here for a sec.”

The younger Troy walked right over. Her father placed his hand on her shoulder.

“It’s Clarissa, dad.” she said, sounding slightly annoyed.

“I know, Clairie, I’m the one that thought of it.” He looked back to me.

“Meet Police Chief West and his daughter, Cara was it?”

“Terra.” I corrected. Clairie Troy gave a noticeably false smile.

“Nice dress,” she said. “You must’ve had a zero-dollar budget but you made it work.”

She smiled again. There was absolutely no irony in her voice; this superficial C-word actually meant that sentence to be a genuine compliment. I tried my best not to look pissed.

“I’m gonna get some punch.”

The Troys beamed and my dad patted me on the back as I walked off. Over the room’s collective chatter I could just make out Clarissa’s voice. “Terra, what a weird name.”

After my delightful encounter with the lovely Ms. Troy, I decided to take it easy for a while, finding comfort in awkwardly disappearing to an empty table. Sipping apple cider from a martini glass, the melancholy boredom set in. With a defeated sigh, I let my eyes drift off and accepted the thought that a certain handsome, advanced high school graduate was right (once again); this night was so far turning out to be nothing but dull conversations and forced smiles.

“Would you like another drink, miss?” the soft, rehearsed tone of Mr. Mason’s butler brought me back from my moment of mental reflection. The old man stood there, holding a hefty glass bottle of ginger ale.

“No thanks.” I replied after a few seconds of admiring his lovely British accent.

“Yo, Willard,” another voice called from behind us. “Another root beer on the rocks. Shaken, not stirred.”

“Very well, sir,” Willard said, trotting off to do the menial deed.

I turned to a surprising sight: a certain handsome, advanced high school graduate. In the middle of this classy charity banquet stood J DeMarcus, looking exceedingly sharp in an expensive suit and matching fedora.

“Gee, Terra, you could at least look like you’re alive.”

“What are you doing here?” I said in surprise.

“Not we, us. You and I have some business to handle.”

I raised a brow as he leaned against the empty chair next to me. I could see in his eyes he was getting ready to do some hardcore thinking.

“Business?” I parroted, mildly confused.

“Look around, Terra,” he said confidently. “Undercover police everywhere, I thought you’d guess by now something was up.”

I frowned, vowing to never again to the voice in my head telling me I’m over-analyzing things.

“If it were up to me,” he continued. “I wouldn’t be here, but it seems the two of us have been called in for a favor.”

I looked around in surprise. “Here?”

He nodded, pointing across the ballroom to Thomas Mason himself, who was currently stuffing his face with foreign hors d'oeuvres delivered to him by Willard via silver tray.

“If the tip we got is right, he won’t be alive much longer.”

I jumped in my seat. “What the hell does that mean?”

He shushed me. “Don’t draw attention, genius! So what do you say?”

“You want me to help you solve this?” I didn’t know how to respond. I’d always been a spectator of J’s exciting crimefighter life, but never a part of it. My dad gets gets all military on me whenever I even bring up his job, I’d never been so close to actual police happenings before in my life. And now the famous teen detective was asking for my help on a case.

“Explain the story.” I answered.

“Sure,” he replied, eager to gain my assistance. “Someone’s been sending anonymous death threats to him for the past few weeks. Another eerie letter, presumably from the same sender, tipped off a friend of Mason’s that his murder would take place tonight.”

“And this friend reached out to you?”

“No,” J replied as he motioned. “His daughter did.”

I knew exactly who he meant before I even turned my head to look. “Damn it.” I said to myself, realizing who I’d be spending majority of the time on this case with. Within seconds she approached: Clarissa Troy, everyone’s favorite air-headed heiress. I was quickly nauseated by the helpless smile on her face and the bright, adoring eyes she had as she gawked at my best friend like a horny fangirl meeting her hero. I quickly realized that simile was in fact reality.

“You came!” she blurted, barely containing her excitement.

“Of course,” J replied suavely. “I never turn down serious cases, especially not from clients as lovely as you.”

She blushed. Ugh, does he have to be such a flirt?

“Judging from body language I’m guessing already met my assistant.”

She swooned. “Amazing!”

He already told her I’d be helping him?

“That’s ‘partner’.” I corrected.

“Partner, sidekick; tomato, tomahto.”

He turned and looked to Clarissa. “Do you have in writing what the letters to Mason said?”

“Better,” Ms. Troy said, pulling out her phone. “This took a lot of sneaking around to do, but here.”

She held her (brand new, top of the line) cell phone before us, displaying a picture of the message.

“How on Earth did you get these?” J said, sounding astounded.

“My dad visited Mason’s house and snapped pictures before the police took the letters as evidence. I ‘borrowed’ my dad’s phone and sent them to myself.”

Oddly enough, the wannabe killer didn’t just write in pen; the paper was covered with single letters clipped out of random magazines and newspaper headlines, glued on in an order which spelled out: “Thomas Mason will die in fourteen days”

“This came in exactly two weeks ago from today,” Clarissa explained. “And this came in yesterday.”

She scrolled her fingers across the screen to present another photo. It was another message, cut out from different reading materials in the same fashion. This time it said: “Attending the banquet will be the last thing Thomas ever does.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“Hmm...” J said in thought. “Whoever made those had to have spent quite some time on them. Putting those together must’ve been a pain, but our assailant made sure they couldn’t be traced back to him.”

“So,” Clarissa said, putting her phone away with an eager grin. “How are we gonna find the killer?”

What does this b***h mean ‘we’?

“Well, we start,” J answered. “By narrowing suspects.”

The ditzy heiress’ eyes widened in awe. “Uh, J,” I interjected. “How exactly do you plan to do that?”

“Check it,” he began, starting into his heavy-thinking mode.

“This doesn’t seem like some random act of troublemaking. It’s too calculated an attempt. There has to be some initiative; a motive. The two most likely possibilities are that Mr. Mason has some really bitter enemies, or that someone’s after his money. If we work fast we might be able to find our man, or woman, before anything serious goes down. But I have a job for each of you fine ladies.”

Clarissa Troy sprang up happily. “Like what?”

“Clarissa,” he pointed to her. “Talk to your dad and company, dig up some information. Find out about anyone with reason to hold a grudge on Mason. Business men he’d somehow screwed over, ex-partners, anything.”

“Got it!” Ms. Troy spouted eagerly. I raised a brow.

“Terra,” J continued. “I need you to do some research. Cross-reference as many files as you can and get the names of everyone covered by Mason’s life insurance or written into his will.”

“How am I supposed to-” he cut me off by reaching into his bag and pulling out his laptop; the one he kept in the office. I’d never expect to be brought here of all places.

I sighed and took my laptop, reluctantly accepting my new duty. As you could probably gather, I wasn’t taking this particular case too seriously. The reason was that it was most likely bull. I followed his stories rigorously, and he’d looked into death threats before, most of which turned out to be empty pranks to get a rise out of someone. As of now, I saw nothing about this case that indicated it was about anything more. Still, I humored our suspicions and got to work, digging up everything I could on our host in question.

J, however, took the case far more seriously. I could see on his face that he was treating it with the scrutiny and care he initially gave any job. The more I thought about it, the more apparent was the probability that he saw something in these clues that I couldn’t. I was out of the loop as usual though.

J’s eyes were void and unreadable as he stared deeply into space in his usual fashion. He was in a routine trancelike state where he completely tuned out the world around him and compiled information in his head. His thought process always fascinated me; I had no idea what went on in that mind of his, I just knew I’d be blown away by the conclusion he’d eventually reach. Until that time came, however, I sat away in my corner of the ballroom, eating my body weight in caviar and typing away on my laptop.

In about fifteen minutes, J called me and the ditz back to exchange the information we’d all gathered. He sat down next to me at my empty table and Clarissa soon followed.

“Alright, ladies,” J said, finally snapping out of his genius-detective mode and joining us on Earth.

“Whatcha got?”

“Well,” Clarissa began, pointing to a grizzled man holding a glass of champagne and looking as suspicious as a Scooby-Doo villain. “Tom Mason ran that guy out of business a while ago. They were competitors and his career was pretty much destroyed. Apparently they just got on good terms not too long ago.”

“Yeah,” I added. “His name is Nicholai Brown.”

J pondered. “What else, Terra?”

“Nothing, basically,” I sighed. “He just became business partners with his brother, friendly ol’ Bob over there. And in the event of his death, Mason left his fortune with the residents of his house. Assuming that means his family, it says nothing; He has a wife, who’s sick in bed tonight, and three-year-old twins. I doubt they’re teaching murder in preschool, so...”

“So it means our guy must be Mr. Brown.” Clarissa deduced. We both met eyes and looked at J.

“It might not be that simple.”

Ugh, when was it ever?

“I didn’t want to say this till I was sure, but now I am. If there really is someone trying to kill Mason, it’s not the same person who sent the letters.”

Clarissa and I gave shocked looks in unison. “What?”

“If the threats weren’t pranks and there actually is someone after our guy, it wouldn’t be the real killer contacting Mason. If someone had something to gain from him being dead, it’d be easier to just do it. Why would they tip Mason off in advance and risk getting the police involved? What killer screws themselves over like that before making their move? Conclusion: Someone else sent the letters.”

“Why?” Clarissa and I blurted.

“A warning,” J realized. “Someone found out about plans to kill Mason and wanted to do something about it. They didn’t go straight to the police with the culprit’s identity, which says they have something to hide themselves. It’s a possibility that the writer of these messages was in on this at some point, but backed out and is afraid they’ll be charged for being a part of the planning.”

I puzzled to myself for a moment. I’d never even thought of that.

“The good news,” J continued. “This anonymous ‘someone’ doesn’t want the killer to succeed. Knowing that the plan would go into place here tonight, they probably dropped by to keep an eye on things.”

“You think he’s here?” I said in disbelief, briefly scanning the ballroom.

“It’s a possibility.” J answered with a shrug.

“Great!” Clarissa exclaimed. “Now we just have to find him. If the Brown guy’s the killer, all we have to do is find his little friend and get him to confess.”

“But who could that ‘little friend’ be?” J trailed off once again, engulfed in his own thoughts. His empty facial expression and void eyes indicated his mind was racing at lightspeed. I closed the laptop and sighed. Clarissa put on her best thinking face as I rolled my eyes and looked to J. He was completely gone, staring off into space. I realized this case had gotten significantly more complicated. It was no longer a few simple threats; we had a genuine mystery on our hands.

A moment later, J tuned back in and spoke.

“Terra, go back  and look for anyone here close to Mr. Brown.”

I nodded, opening my laptop and getting back to work.

“What about me?” pouted the attention-hungry Clarissa. J smiled as he answered.

“Join me and eavesdrop, my dear.”

He stood up and linked arms with her. “Shall we dance?”

I scoffed at her giddy smile as they trotted off. Of course J would leave me to sit alone at my computer while he went to dance and make goo-goo eyes with that prissy rich girl. I mean, on no previous cases had he ever asked me to dance before, but it wasn’t like I was bitter or anything.

Searching was getting me nowhere fast. While the great detective and his bumbling gal-pal clung to each other on the dance floor, I was pulling up no useful leads. I tried to think like J; I began mentally listing every factor in my head. What if Brown isn’t the killer and he was the one who sent the notes? But then who else here would have reason to hate him? Well in the event of Mason’s death the money goes to residents of his home…  Wait a minute! That includes the butler... that butler… We all saw the way Mason practically abused him publically… what if?

“Oh my god, he’s not breathing!”

“Someone call 911!”

“Does anyone know CPR?”

“He...He’s not dead is he?”

I jumped out of my seat and ran over to the crowd that had formed, shoving my way through to the center of the circle. Then I saw it: The still, lifeless body of Thomas Mason lay on the floor before us all.

“Everyone stand back!” my father came running up, waving his badge forcefully pushing everyone from his way as he approached the center of the crowd that had formed around Thomas Mason’s body. The other hidden officers scattered around the the event followed suit and revealed themselves.

“They got him?” spouted a rookie cop helping on the case. “How?”

“They didn’t...” my father said, looking down to Mason’s cold, lifeless eyes. “He must’ve had a heart attack or something.”

“But, dad...” I heard myself say. He looked at me as if he’d forgotten I was there.

“We all know someone was out to kill this man tonight.”

The room fell silent as all eyes flew to J DeMarcus. My father’s face shot red with anger.

“You said he wouldn’t be here!” he barked at me. I gave a timid, awkward smile and shrug as J proceeded to step forward into the center of the crowd.

“Someone was here to kill him, there’s no way he just died by coincidence the same night. Even you have to admit that’s suspicious.”

Chief West looked as if he wanted to punch the kid in the face (more so than usual, I mean).

“We know, kid,” one of my dad’s cop buddies interjected. “But we’ve been watching him with a close eye all night. No one got anywhere near him.”

My father sighed, rubbing his temples as he tried to comprehend what had just happened.

“We had him under surveillance all day,” he explained. “As you can see his person is completely unscathed. He doesn’t have a scratch on him. And the only things he’s eaten tonight are the foods being passed around to everyone, yet no one else collapsed so that rules out poisoning. I can’t explain it, he just somehow...died.”

The room fell silent as one of the officers kneeled down to shut Mason’s eyes. A melancholy vibe of uncertainty floated over everyone as my dad made the call to the ambulance to come retrieve the corpse. My stomach knotted, I desperately tried to conceal the anguish and worry from my face but I almost certainly failed. I looked to J for consolement, but his expression was one of frustration. Before I could attempt to lend any helping words, he turned and walked away from the crowd. Sometimes he liked to be alone to think.

“Terra,” said a girl’s voice. I turned in disbelief to see Clarissa Troy, speaking directly to me for the first time all night since her parents had forced her to be social.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for earlier tonight...just saying, if I came off as rude or anything it was just because I was nervous about this whole thing. You know, waiting to meet up with J and all. Sometimes when my mind’s on other things I kind of space out and act differently.

She gave me a smile. A real, genuine, warm, heartfelt smile. The beast had a heart after all.

“If it means anything,” she continued. “I’d trade being a rich heiress for being the partner of a great detective any day. It was really exciting to live the life you do for a night. Hope you two have better luck next time.”

The ambulance showed up in reasonable time. My dad gave the details to the doctors as they pulled out the stretcher from the truck. The other police showed them to the body.

I watched as they came in, my heart sinking once more at the sad loss of one of Dakota’s finest men. My inner thoughts were interrupted as I saw J from across the room. He stared at Mason’s body with such intensity I could see he was in the deepest thought he’d been in since the case began. J’s eyes glowed with immense focus. Then, the blank expression on his face jumped back to a cocky smirk.

“Officers, stop,” he called sternly. “I know how Mason died.”

The room went crazy. Through all the gasps and shocked reactions to J’s bold statement, I could hear the collective groans of the surrounding police. My father shot me an angry look, then shifted his attention to J.

“DeMarcus, that’s enough,” the chief said before being cut off.

“Would you rather let a murderer get away?” J sneered, knowing that the police couldn’t pass the opportunity. My dad was silent.

“I thought so,” J continued. “This man was poisoned.”

“Pay attention, kid, everything Mason ate or drank tonight was shared with the rest of the room.”

“So it seems,” J grinned. “The killer knew with a little cautious planning, he could get Mason to unknowingly poison himself. He did, and you watched.”

“What are you talking about?”

J hurried over to the body sprawled on the ground. With no warning, he reached down and pulled something out of Mason’s breast pocket. Jaws dropped throughout the entire room as he held it up: The pen used to sign the check.

“If I’m right, which, ya know, when am I not,” he began. “This inconspicuous-looking pen was tipped with lethal poison ahead of time. Given the circumstances this must’ve been some serious stuff. Ricin maybe.”

J took the pen in his hand and began spinning it between his fingers like he did back at the office.

“Mason had a routine: Lick the pen, sign the check, smile for the camera. It looked professional and old fashioned, regardless of whether or not the pen required it to work. The knew this, so he put his touch into the sure place no one would ever think to look. From that point, all he had to do was wait it out ‘till the drug took effect. And who’s the killer you ask? Easy: The one who supplied the pen.”

J pointed an intense index finger to Mason’s own brother, the rude, obnoxious Bob Mason. Gasps continued, exceedingly louder as the crowd erupted into shock.

“So, Chief,” J said smugly. “You wanna take this pen down to a forensics lab?”

The cops didn’t even need to test it; the scared, helpless look across Bob’d face and the guilt spreading across his wrinkled frame said it all.

“Thomas Mason was an idiot,” the old man eventually said, trembling in anger and defeat. “All the money in the world and he spent his life just giving it away to people. All the while dragging me around as a servant. I succumbed to working for that insufferable slavedriver after a few too many trips to the casino. Imagine spending every waking hour groveling to an imbecile in a fancy suit! These past years have been the worst of my life I swore I’d get away from him one way or another... And that I’d never be anyone’s willing servant again. So I worked my way into his will and planned to use his leftovers to fund an investment to a rival business.”

“A rival business?” J repeated. “I believe I know who you consulted. Clarissa, would you mind?”

She smiled and gestured across the crowd to Nicholai Brown, who’s sigh of relief turned to a squeal of panic. Oh yeah, he was involved in this too.

“How did-!?” he blurted out before being cut off by J.

“Mr. Brown,” he said sharply. “We thought you seemed suspicious...I’d actually assumed you had nothing to do with this but the look on your face tells me something’s up. Given the facts, I presume you’re the one that wrote Mason those letters.”

Brown sighed in accepted defeat. “Yes,” he breathed. “I was in talks with him about planning to get back at Mason, then his brother changed his will. He had nothing to gain out of his death but he wanted to go along with it anyway. I was worried the cops would never believe there weren’t any hard feelings between us after he publicly ended my career.”

J sighed a breath of anguish, followed by a hard stare to the former butler.

“Tom Mason was a good man,” he began. “After everything he’s done for Dakota, let alone the fact that he’s your own flesh and blood brother, you do this to him? Why?”

Robert Evander Mason. That was the murderer’s full name. It turns out that Tom’s wife had been having an affair with him for years without Tom knowing. Bob believed the kids were his, but the unfaithful Mrs. Mason refused to tell her husband about their… well, bonding time. So, after so much time watching them grow up, Robert Evander decided the best way to take a position in his (supposed) children’s lives was to take his oblivious brother out of the picture. I’m glad to say that the sick creep got driven from the mansion by my father, to Dakota’s penitentiary, where a life sentence awaited him. If the kids were actually his, we’ll never know. Nicholai Brown was taken in for further questioning, and J got a standing applause by everyone in the ballroom.

And just like that it was over. The ambulance drove away with the body, and news reporters were flooding the scene in less than twenty minutes. It’s pointless to say, but yes, the banquet was brought to a close, and those who weren’t hanging around to answer questions to the police and the news were gearing up to go home.

J, Clarissa and I gave our respects to Mason and condolences to his family, the detective smiled for another front page spread, and Ms. Troy excitedly shared details about working with us on a murder case. I, on the other hand, disappeared from the scene as soon as I was given the chance. I could do without the attention; after all, basking in glamour after a man was just killed seemed kind of wrong to me. Everyone was talking to the reporters outside the building, I shoved through the crowd to make my way back inside the mansion to be alone for a moment. I stopped for a moment when I felt a pair of eyes burning their way through the back of my head. I turned to see Clarissa looking at me. And worse, she and J were holding hands. Sickening. She looked away as soon as we met eyes, But then I saw her lean over and whisper something in J’s ear.

I rolled my eyes and slipped away into the now-empty ballroom, my only companion in the night air being the blisters forming on my ankles. For a moment, I stared through the still darkness up at the inactive chandelier and let my mind drift. Then, a few seconds later I was blinded as the lights cut back on with no warning. I turned to the entrance to the ballroom nearest to the light-switches, to my surprise finding J, who had followed behind me soundlessly.

“Still haven’t broken those vampire habits, Tee?”

I shot him a look being that I couldn’t think of a comeback fast enough, and he stepped forward with a sigh.

“Take a second to celebrate, Terra,” he said. “Not long ago we put away a murderer. Don’t you consider that an accomplishment?”

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “But now I think it’s about time to call it a night, don’t ya think?”

J raised a brow, for a second entering his thinking mode again. What a miracle, I’d managed to elude the mind of the prodigy. Finally, he spoke.

“Terra, I have something to ask you.”

“Yes?” I replied, taken off guard entirely.

“Well,” he began. “Tonight’s little shenanigans went pretty well. My life revolves around these cases, I’ve seen things I’ll take to my grave and I’ve been in plenty dangerous situations, but I wouldn’t trade what I do for the world. However, maybe I’d be more efficient at stopping crimes if I had some help… I’ve been pondering doing this for a while and tonight was the proof I needed. How would you like to be my ‘partner’ permanently?”

I was floored immediately.

“What?” I blurted out, unable to properly compute a response. “You mean, like, you want me to… Like, help you again? Like, come with you on all these things and…?”

“And do exactly what you did tonight,” J explained. “You’re a smart girl, Tee. I mean, I was top of class for the two weeks we went to school together, but still, the computers and the hacking skills… You can do things I can’t. You can get the information I need to work on cases. You can track people down, see the things people try to hide. You’re a master hacker, imagine what you could do with that gift. And imagine what we could accomplish if we worked together. What do you say?”

“I’m in!” I exclaimed without even having to think about it.

“Dang… Don’t you wanna, I dunno, think it over for a minute?”

“No need. Solving mysteries with my bestie beats getting involved with high school drama any day.”

“But… You watched a guy die today, you mean you’re not scared of the danger?”

“Of course not. I’m a tough girl, J. And all this… the sneaking around, the gathering clues… Finding a killer! I’ve never been this exhilarated in my life!”

“You think your father will be pleased with this?”

“He’ll get over it! Besides he doesn’t have to know right away. What’s up with you, trying to talk me out of it right after you ask me?”

“Not at all, Terra, just making sure you’re understand the risk and you’re still determined.”

“I am, J. I mean it. I wanna do this for a long time!”

“Sweet, then it’s settled. Next case I get, you’ll come along. Be my second opinion and little information broker.”

“You’re on, detective. Just never call me your sidekick.”

J laughed. I laughed with him. I couldn’t contain my joy. This was the moment I knew my life would never be the same. This was the start of something new. Something unbelievable.

“Well, now that everyone else is gone,” he began unexpectedly as he walked over to the jukebox. He put in  few quarters and soft piano melodies lifted out.

“May I have this dance?”

I was taken back, not quite knowing how to react other than looking him over once more.

“Well?” he reached out his hand. I couldn’t fight the lukewarm smile rising across my lips. Screw it.

“Sure.” I answered, taking his hand delicately. He kissed it like a gentleman, then whirled me closer with enthusiastic force. I let out a startled giggle as I landed in his grasp. Then, as if everything before hadn’t happened, he took me into his arms and we danced the night away.

Author's Note

The first in a possible series of short stories starring my beloved character, J DeMarcus. Also my first mystery story. Enjoy! And please give honest feedback

Reviews

[Astro]

"Surely seeing myself as a dear caught in the headlights," "dear" = deer
"stuffing his face with foreign orderves" "orderves" = hors d'oeuvres
As you can see, I haven't found many typo's and for that I say kudos to good editing or a fine grasp of language. The story is quite well written as it follows a logical progression to a plausible yet very cliche'd ending with a tender denouement that may or may not be appropriate if you are going to continue to write about the adventures of these two characters. I'll explain what I mean by the 'cliche' comment. "The butler did it!!" need I say more? O.k. I will, the death scene whereby the method of poisoning is plausible, the idea that any man who is successful enough that they give large amounts to charity and throw lavish events would take his butler out on the town for the sole purpose of handing him his pen to sign over-sized checks is ridiculous. In your story, nowhere do you say that the event is held at the mansion of the victim but refer to it as, "The sun was setting by the time we arrived at the venue." a venue or, event, "Now, we were personally invited to Dakota’s most formal of events." This is a simple flaw, not so much a cliche, what is a cliche is that after "Mason" was dead that everyone stood around to be regaled by "J's" deductive intellect like in a game of clue. Sure, if the butler had escaped he would give cause for suspicion but it would go against the grain of established norms of the genre, the same goes for "Mr.Brown". The fact that the police would allow an outsider, whether he be an established sleuth or not to approach the scene of the crime and subsequently pick up the 'proposed' murder weapon goes to enforce the cliched idea that the cops are bumbling idiots that not only fail to do their jobs but couldn't find their own faces in the mirror let alone a murderer.
A bit about your characters, I think with some work both "Terra"(although the spelling of her name wouldn't be my choice) and "J" could be great characters to use for a series of mystery novels. The genius and their skillful helper/partner/assistant has been done many times but still offers a popular style to the mystery fan. "Terra" is described as a very bright and beautiful girl, but at times you make her seem like an idiot. Not simply in the presence of "J's" intellect but in failing to see the bigger picture that is staring at her in the face, ie. all the police attending the "event" or not recognizing anything about "Mason's" will. A bit about the will, if he had a wife and 3 children, it isn't very plausible that he would leave his fortune to anyone but them(eccentric millionaire or not) and if "Willard" were in debt how much would one think a butler would get from a millionaires will anyhow? More than likely, they would be charged with a lifetime of employment and perhaps a little money but is that really enough of a motive to kill a man he worked for for 8 yrs? If you insist on keeping the players the same, you would do well to give him a better reason to kill "Mason" (ie. poor treatment, a past offence from their childhood, affair with the wife, etc) because there is nothing that really ties "Willard" to "Nicolai" that would make them bedfellows. So then, aside from fixing those plot holes, I think that you can make "Terra" a more keen observer than you have. "J" is a quirky and likeable character, but makes some sweeping generalizations with regard to ferreting out the perpetrator of the crime and of there having to be two people involved. One thing, I found odd with regards to this story and how it pertains to "J's" abilities in particular is the relationship with the character "Clarissa". Why would she be involved? Why would she have access to death threats? Why wouldn't she be an obvious suspect in "Mason's" death. She at no point in the story is described as having any relationship to "Mason". In my opinion, it would have been better to make her father the victim and not some other wealthy citizen. Lastly, throughout your story you fail to describe the scene, which for a mystery fan is paramount. We love to assess the situation, and try and divulge what may or, may not have anything to do with the outcome. "J" and "Terra's" place of work for example, the "Stephen Hawking's wet dream" is a comparison, but isn't specific enough to alight the imagination. The same goes for the "Event" you mention glass doors and chandeliers but little more to distinguish it from the entrance way to many homes, except for mention of a 'ballroom'. The relationship between your characters is unclear as well, a bit about how "J" and "Terra" met and became "partners" is important and omitted. Also, the affection between the two makes little sense without the prior knowledge of their friendships origin. Why would they have a partnership if there is more going on?

Well J, you asked for honest feedback and I'm hoping you see what I've written as constructive criticism and not artist bashing because as I mentioned in the beginning I feel that you are a very skilled 'writer' it's simply the plot design and character descriptions that could use a bit of work. This story may very well be considered a hit by many as it stands, but as I have stated, I'm a fan of the genre and so see that it could be made into something much stronger. Peace and good luck

[Demetri J]

Thanks for such a long and detailed review! As stated this is my first mystery story I still have things to learn. I'm going to revise this story according to each criticism I receive and agree with, and yes I do plan on continuing this as a series. I'd be more than happy if you continued to read and review these, it's very appreciated. Thanks for your time

[Astro]

I'll do my best, but can't commit to the endeavor entirely as I don't do a lot of reviews of story writing and prefer the poetry reviews because they can be accomplished with some measure of quickness. I must, like you write and if I were paid for my reviews I'd be more than happy to review often, but whereas I have only lately broken free of my own writers block I am trying not to stifle it. I'll look out for your revised version or subsequent sequels. Cheers Astro

[Richard Patrick]

It is very well written, I enjoyed reading it. You have a lot of details in the piece. I found it was good. Keep at it, your craftsmanship is very good. I will try and read more of the stories you have written. Sorry about being away for such a long time frame.

[TheMalady]

Seriously, J and Terra are really like Sherlock Holmes and Watson! I really like how you wrote this story in minute details. Not a tinge of info is left in your story. Terra's narration reminds me of Watson recounting Sherlock's cases.

The transition between the characters, especially on how they exchanged words with each other, are very smooth. The description of the places, as well as the people, appeared as if they really do exist. This story seemed real than a mere short mystery story.

I'd say, you're like Conan Doyle. Great job!

[nostal]

Will surely read this later.

[bookworm0812]

Alright, I am writing this as I am reading, so it might be a bit scattered with a bunch of different ideas at once, just so you know. I wanted to give you a heads up about that in case you decided to reply with a criticism including that fact later. You asked for honest, so I'm giving it, and I'll say from the first paragraph, I am both impressed with the introduction into it,and slightly, only a small bit, bored. The whole "Ask ten people who J DeMarcus was, you’d get ten different answers. Nerd, loner, smartass, the list goes on. Maybe ‘genius’ was the name for him that people should have admitted to more often. " line was a bit cliche, but it worked out well enough, mind you, to work, and I don't have a majorly huge complaint about it(please do not kill me for anything, I can always find something nice to say with the construction). I love Terra, because she isn't the stereotypical pretty girl, which as a girl, I adore reading. Nobody wants to read about a Barbie doll look alike who is perfect at everything and dumb as a bag of hair, which Terra isn't, and that is BEYOND excellent. As well, I would like to point out the amount of sheer winning the line of, "being seen as a potential sperm-receptacle by every jock in a varsity jacket wears thin pretty quickly". I applaud the craft that just took. Insanity in small amounts. J reminds me a lot of Sherlock, from the British show, with the attitude and the sarcasm and the deduction at first glance. I'm not sure if that is what you were going for, or if you even know what I am talking about, but if you do, that is my thought, and if you don't......it's a compliment. I will say that as I read through the dialogue between Terra and J it was a little bit stiff, and the two characters contrast a lot. I wondered how exactly they fit together as the two pieces of the puzzle, but as I continued, I started to figure it out. Terra's fondness for J was a little bit tedious it was so obviously there. She repeatedly calls him by names that are both endearing and sticky sweet. Faithful companion, One flaw I noticed was the fact that Terra said she was valedictorian, but is only a sophomore, which is a small error that distracts from the plot for a brief moment, or perhaps I just read that wrong, or am the only one who noticed that and now you're thinking I'm a terrible person.

Anyway, as the story progresses on, I found myself getting more and more deeply committed in the story, and rooted into absorbing every little detail, which is an excelling factor that makes me want to read more of your writing.

The party itself was screaming illegality, or that something bad was going to happen, even if a reader failed to read the title. The fact that there were many police and important people attending is, as Terra said, the most absolute PERFECT place to do something that is frowned upon by common society. I find Mason shady as hell, but then again, what extremely rich man isn't a tiny bit shady in a work of literature?

From the moment Clarisaa stepped in, my imaginary alarm went off in my head. Something seemed wrong with that picture, in a huge way. She's stunning and rich, and from the mystery novel reading I have done, I almost never trust the rich and gorgeous, and when Clarissa made the comment about the dress and the budget, I just sort of hated her. And then there's her father, who also seemed a bit off in my head. I mean, his daughter tells him that she wants to be called by a different name, and he still doesn't correct himself? The man is insanely douchey. Like......11/10?

And then Clarissa becomes the third piece of the mystery solving equation. Greeeeattttt. Note the sarcasm. I adore the story, but oh my god, Clarissa.......not going to rant, but she is annoying. I had her pinned the attempted murderess, I really, really did. But that was not to be, I suppose.......the butler always has one of the best reasons for killing, I think, and you captured the perfect motive for your murderer. As well, the ending tied the story up in a neat little bow, and I'm all for that as well. :D

I'm glad I got to read the story. It was clever, witty, entertaining, well written, and very perceptive to the ways of a crime-solver, his exquisite right hand woman, and an unloyal butler turned murderer. I'd read it again in a heartbeat.

[Demetri J]

LOL I love Sherlock! I was actually inspired to create a mystery series years ago by a different TV show, ironically Sherlock didn't become a real influence on the J DeMarcus series until I was well into developing ideas. You'd be delighted to know a magazine editor who reviewed this story described J as 'a cross between Sherlock Holmes and Spider-Man'

Anywho, thanks for that review, it was really appreciated and I'm glad I could entertain you. The next story has begun, the prologue is up on my page, it's called 'Voices in his Head' I'd love to sit and talk to you about it but I'm busy reading your work and putting on my thinking hat to write a review. Hope to hear from you soon, peace

[bookworm0812]

:) Of course, of course, we never have enough time to talk. We can talk in messages if you want to continue talking. I'll be sure to read the next installment, I just have so much to do. Stupid reality! Ruining my cyber paradise of writing and reading and such. Grr.