Unloved

Loving and unloving can be brutal sometimes.

Esha parked her car and got out with a bounce in her steps. It was a bright evening. She glanced at her beautiful home. The high windows were a good idea. She thought. And walked inside humming an unknown tune. Little did she know, she was going to leave that house in a body bag.

Five hours later, police vans were leaving the crime scene. The bright evening had turned into a cold night. The peaceful neighbourhood was now a locus of sighs and murmurs. Esha Waley had been murdered.

The local police station was buzzing with life. Several SUVs, striped with blue and red, were rolling in and pulling out. One of them was passengered by Detective Moira Nushk. It was no surprise that such a critical case was entrusted to her. Telling stories about her solves was a favorite pastime in the neighbouring stations.

When Moira stepped into the station, she was immediately greeted by her assistant.

“Ruben,” She nodded curtly at the frail man. “Is the preliminary investigation complete?”

“Yes ma’am.” Ruben said, handing Moira a green file.

“Straight to my office, then.”

Inside Moira’s office, one could barely see the wall behind her desk. It was fully covered with certificates and awards.

“The victim’s name is Esha Waley,” Ruben started.

Moira sat down and took out her notepad.

“She was found dead at her house,” Ruben made a face at his forthcoming words. “By her husband, Chester Waley.”

Moira knew why Ruben’s face turned sour. Incidents of husbands murdering their wives were on an all time high.

“Go on.” Moira said.

“Paramedics state it’s poison.” Ruben continued. “Crime scene was spotless.”

“What about the neighbour-enquiries?”

“Most neighbours were either not home or didn’t hear anything.”

Moira scribbled in her notepad.

“The closest neighbour, Nick Paltor, said something else too.”

Moira looked up.

“After answering the initial questions, he said: It’s Chester.”

“The husband?”

“Yes.”

Moira glanced at the case file sprawled open on her desk. Was this yet another case of a spiteful husband?

The next morning, Detective Moira Nushk and Officer Ruben were at the hotel where Chester Waley was staying temporarily. The past 14 hours had tortured him. Facing the detective with hunched shoulders, he said in a low voice:

“Did you�" did you find out who�"” His voice wobbled. “Who killed my wife?”

“We’re still investigating, Mr. Waley.” Ruben replied.

“We need to ask you a few questions.” Moira said.

Chester nodded.

“Was your wife dealing with depression?”

“What?” Chester furrowed his eyebrows.

“Mr. Waley, is there any chance that she took her own life?”

Chester stared at Moira. “Oh my God.” He lowered his head into his palms. And started wailing.

“Chester?”

After fifteen minutes of waiting for a reply, Moira and Ruben decided to leave.

“That was a dead end.” Ruben said as they walked out of the hotel. “No pun intended.”

Moira and Ruben returned to the police station and decided to talk to the people close to the victim.

Nick Paltor, the neighbour, was the first person to be interviewed. After he entered the station, Ruben led him inside a large, well-lit room. He glanced at the rows of chairs. It looked like a classroom. Moira was already there, waiting, with an apple in one hand and a pencil in another.

“Mr. Paltor, I’m detective Moira Nushk.”

“That’s a winesap.” Nick exclaimed.
“Excuse me?”

“The apple you’re about to eat.”

“Huh,” Moira said, a little confused.

“Ah,” Nick blinked. “It’s just that my grandfather owns an apple orchard. I can identify up to eleven varieties just by looking at them.”

“That’s quite a skill.” Ruben said.

“Shall we begin?” Moira put her pencil down. “Last night, you told Officer Ruben that ‘it’s Chester’ quote unquote. Elaborate?”

Nick pressed his lips. “Yes. Esha and Chester had a bad marriage.”

“Bad marriage?”

“Yes. I heard them fighting all the time. Chester is a bad man.”

“Did you know them well?”

“No. I was not close with either of them.” Nick breathed out.

“Okay,” Moira said and took a bite from her apple.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Paltor.” Ruben nodded at Nick. “You can go home now. We will call you if we have any more questions.” And Nick left.

“That wasn’t very useful.” Moira closed her eyes.

“Neighbours these days know nothing.” Ruben shook his head.

“We need to talk to someone who knew the victim closely.”

Therefore, the next person called for questioning was Sia: Esha’s close friend and coworker.

“Yes, we’re close.” Sia coughed out after eleven minutes of sobbing into her hands.

“Can you tell us about her relationship with her husband?”

Sia drew in a breath. “They were fine. I mean,” She wiped a tear. “They were having problems, so they went to therapy.”

She looked at Moira. “But she said it was working.”

“Was Esha happy?” Moira interjected. The possibility of suicide hadn’t been ruled out completely.

“Yeah,” Sia said, without missing a beat. “Happier, even. Last week she said she was…” She paused and took a breath, “She said she was sleeping better,” And broke down into tears.

After Sia left, Moira and Ruben decided to take a break. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Ruben finally said: “That was interesting.”

Moira leaned back into her chair.

Ruben continued, “Neighbour Nick accused Chester. But Sia, the friend, says everything was fine.”

Moira smiled. “Someone is lying.”

“All comes back to the husband.” Ruben said.

“Let’s call him, then.” Moira said, amused at her own idea.

“Will he even talk? He looked really rough in the morning.”

“Only one way to find out.” Moira said, taking out her phone.

Chester answered almost immediately.

Detective Moira: Mr. Chester Waley, this is Detective Moira Nushk.

Chester Waley: Yes?

Moira: Can we talk about your relationship with your wife?

Chester: Excuse me?
Moira: You went to marriage counselling, is that correct? I believe you two were having problems?
Chester: Are you accusing me of killing her?
Moira: Absolutely not. Mr. Waley, please understand, I just want to talk.
Chester: I am not talking to anyone without discussing it with my lawyer first.

The call disconnected with a loud beep. Ruben bit his lip before saying, “Well…”
“No. We can’t jump to conclusions, yet.”

“So how do we proceed? Should we halt the investigation until we get the autopsy results tomorrow?”

“No. Can’t waste time. We’ve barely scratched the surface here.” Moira sat up straight. “Whoever it is, can’t get too

comfortable in their bed of lies.”

Moira then asked Ruben to put in a request for a search warrant. The application was immediately accepted by the court.

Any document with the name Moira Nushk bypassed red tape like water through a fish-net.

The following day, a police SUV stopped right in front of the Waley house. Detective Moira and Officer Ruben were ready to get to the truth, once and for all.

“Beautiful windows,” Ruben remarked as they ducked under the police tape.

The inside of the house was chaotic. Almost everything was in place, but somehow it was all disorderly. Police inspection can drastically change the climate of a place. A house can be littered with bloody knives and still remain a house. It’s only a crime scene if the police gets involved.

But Moira and Ruben were here to find the true picture. To look into the lives of Esha and Chester Waley. And to finally discover the missing piece of this ugly puzzle.

“Where do we begin?” Ruben asked as he looked through the remains of a once-lively living room. A half empty plate and some newspapers lay on the sofa. And right next to it, on the floor, was a 5-feet long chalk drawing.

“Look for signs of misery. Or vigilance.” Was all Moira said before walking straight into the bedroom.

The unmade bed immediately caught the detective’s eye. The rest of the room was empty except for a cupboard in the corner. It was a small room. Moira began to take out her notepad when… clatter! Her pencil had dropped on the floor.

When she crouched on the floor to pick it up, Moira noticed a rectangular object under the bed. She pulled it out in the light, and flinged aside the dark cloth that was covering it. It was a plastic container. Moira fixed her gloves. The container was slightly bigger than her palm. She opened it. The box was stuffed with rings, chains, and trinkets of all sorts. And several pieces of paper: crumpled.

“Whoa, look at that treasure box.” Ruben said, standing at the door.

“Covered with a dark cloth.” Moira looked up at him. “As if… hidden.”

Moira picked up a piece of paper and smoothened it. A small gasp escaped her lips as she read the words written on it.

Dear Esha,
Saw this online and it reminded me of you.
-Nick

“Wait, what?” Ruben came closer and sat down in front of Moira. They started picking out the notes from the heap of heart-shaped jewellery. Some were torn into bits.

Dearest E,
Silver bracelets suit you. Here’s another.
-N

Dear Esha,
Better than your wedding ring, eh?
-Nick

“This is it.” Moira said, putting everything inside and closing the lid. “We have found the nub of this case.”

“It’s more than that.” Said Ruben. “This is the motive! Scorned husband discovers wife’s affair and kills her?” He scoffed.

“Heard that one before.”

Moira blinked. She started to speak but was interrupted by her phone’s buzz. She picked up the call.

“Yes? Oh, so what is it? Oh… I have to go. Thanks.” Beep.

“Autopsy results,” She said to Ruben. “It’s cyanide.”

Moira stood up and began walking towards the main door of the house. Ruben followed suit.

“Where are we going?”

“Google Cyanide and read me the first result.” Moira spoke in a hurry.

“Uh, okay.” Ruben was confused but knew better than to disobey her. He began reading. “Cyanide is a rapidly acting, potentially deadly chemical.”

Moira and Ruben, still walking, exited the house.

“It can exist in various forms such as a colorless gas or a crystal form.” They crossed the police tape. But Moira was still walking. At a higher pace now.

“Eating or drinking cyanogenic plant compounds�" Where are we going?”

Moira, with Ruben on her heels, sprinted towards the closest house. Once at the doorstep, she began knocking. “�"Can cause cyanide poisoning in humans.” Knock-knock. “These compounds exist in�"” Nick opened the door. “�"apple seeds…”

“Mr. Nick Paltor, you are under arrest.”

Nick froze. Ruben, though perplexed, took out the handcuffs from his police belt. In a swift movement, he clasped them to Nick’s cold wrists. Click. Moira called for backup to take the manacled man to the station. He was silent.

“How’s your grandfather’s apple orchard, Nick?” Moira spat the words.

“Wow,” Ruben looked at the detective and whispered, “Some memory.”

“You thought they were having an affair which enraged Chester,” Moira said. “But there was no affair. Right, Nick?”

Moira raised her voice. “She didn’t love you back.” Nick was looking daggers at the ground. “So you decided to take her life.”

Police vans whirred right outside the house. An officer approached the doorstep and thrashed Nick towards the vehicle. After taking a few steps, Nick looked back at Moira.

“I loved her.” He said. His voice strained.

“Loved her to death?” Was all Moira said before the felon was tossed inside the carriage of justice.