The Last Case

a story about a detective, about to be fired, getting what might be their last case of their career.

Any second I will get called into the chief's office. And I know it can't be good. He would say something like: ‘Elizabeth, sorry but you're fired.’ Or he would call me Detective Perkins, but I doubt that because I am going to get fired. 

I had known I was going to get fired for a while. It was ever since I let the murderer go and arrested some innocent, which was not a great thing for a detective like me. Some of my co-workers at the precinct call me a defective detective. I get a bad rap, everywhere. 

Anyway, the time has come for me to get fired. Chief calls my name over the sound system. I walk slowly down the hall of the precinct and to his office. The old wooden floorboards creak under my feet. All of a sudden a few of my co-workers stand up and look at me with sorrow on their faces, as if this is my walk of shame. I guess the news of me getting fired has leaked already. 

I reach the Chief's office and knock on the wooden part of the door. I look in through the glass that had Chief Rye Connor’s name printed on it. I turn the rusty, old doorknob and enter the room. Chief is sitting in his regular old leather chair. He is faced toward the window which is weird because he called me into his office just a moment before. 

Chief turns his chair with a piece of paper in his hands and I wondered if it was a paper I would have to sign. I never really signed a paper before at the precinct. When you do paperwork, there's nothing you have to sign. 

“Good morning Detective Perkins,” He says my last name like it is the last time he’d say it. He always has fun saying it but this time it's like he's teasing me. “I called you in here today because I have a new case for you.” 

“What?” I respond like I naturally do when I'm surprised. I thought he was going to fire me and not give me a new case. 

“This paper,” He says as he slides the paper toward me. “Is your final agreement to this case.” What final agreements? “Just sign at the bottom if you agree to all of them.” I never had to sign any papers before solving a case, if I solved it. This is something new to me. And why aren't I getting fired? Not like I was looking forward to it. I take the paper hesitantly and start to read it. The text reads:

Elizabeth Perkins,

This case is about a murder that went down at the Nightly Mansion. The man of the household, Harold Nightly got murdered. Director Jenkins will give you the case information, not Jill. However, if you don’t solve this case you are fired. You have to pack up and leave the precinct. If you do solve the case you are back on the team. Don’t tell anyone at the precinct about the case and say you are just getting fired. This case is a secret and only you and Jenkins know about it. If you agree to all of the terms you can sign at the bottom. If you don't, you can pack up your stuff when you leave the office. 

- Chief Rye Connor

ᚼ 

I hold in my hand the case file of the Harold Nightly murder. I just had a visit with Director Jenkins who had given me the file. I can't tell anyone about this case though. It's a secret for some strange reason. I wonder if Chief did this every time he was going to fire someone. It's Chief, so probably. 

I get out of the cab and head for my flat. I have a small flat here in London, only a few blocks away from the precinct. It's the perfect place if I still worked at the precinct. According to my co-workers there, I am a loser because I got fired. I thought the same thing when Jill was going to get fired. Then she was wanted back on the job, but got moved to case filing. She used to be a detective like me. 

I hop in the elevator and ride up to floor three. I can probably get there quicker if I use the stairs, but I have a horrible fear of stairs. It all started when my older sister, Willa, got pushed off the top of a staircase and got a super bad brain injury and almost died. You can see why I am afraid of them. The elevator dings and the door opens. I am met with a guy about my height with a wispy mustache. 

“ ‘ello Mate,” He says as he takes my place in the elevator. I wave to him as the doors closed. I wonder if he is new because I know everyone on my floor, and I don’t remember him. And I’m pretty sure I would recognize that wispy mustache anywhere. 

I walk down the hallway to room 10C, my flat. There are only ten floors in my building, my friend Skater Johnson has thirty floors in his. I pull out my key and turn it in the lock. My flat smells dusty, like it always does. I’m not allergic to dust mites at all so it doesn’t really bother me. I am allergic to bananas though. I once had banana bread because I thought it was chocolate cake, (note that i was only twelve when this happened) and i had to go to the emergency room. They figured out that I was allergic to bananas then. 

I put my bag, which holds the manilla file, down on my bed and go into the tiny kitchen. My flat is quite literally one room. I didn’t mind though because it's only me living there. I open my mini fridge and open a bottle of pop. I drink it as I read the case file more in depth then I had in the cab. 

As I read it I realise that there are 11 suspects in total. No wonder the Chief gave me this as my last case. One, it's a murder which are hard in general. If you have watched murder mystery movies, its nothing like that. They make it look much easier than it actually is. Two, there are so many people it 's hard to keep track of them all. Chief really wanted me fired, because he knew that this case was going to be hard to solve, even for him. 

ᚼ 

The driveway up to the nightly mansion is incredibly long. And the cabby didn’t dare to drive down it for me. He simply just dropped me off at the top. When I ring the doorbell a nice American lady answers. She has blonde hair and looks about fifty. 

“Hello, I assume you're a detective?” She asks me before I come in and snoop around her house. Actually it wasn’t hers, it was a man named Orville’s. 

“Aye, I am Detective Perkins and I was hired to investigate the murder of a Mr. Harold Nightly.” 

“Ok, come on in and make yourself at home,” She says, stepping out of the way so I can come inside. “Would you like a glass of water?” She asks politely. 

“No thanks, I’ll have a cup of tea if you have that.” 

“Oh right,” She answers. She puts the kettle on the stove and lets it boil. Even though she is American, it's a British family. It must feel weird being the only American in a whole house of British people. I would think by now she’d have an accent. 

“So I assume you want to know about what happened and about the family” She says more quietly as she pulls up a chair across from me. I grab three things from my satchel. A pen, a notepad, and a picture of the victim. 

“What's your connection to this man?” I ask the lassy, sliding the picture across the table. I don't even know her name, or anyone in the family except the victim and his son, Orville.

“Oh, that's my husband's father, uh, Harold, the one who died.” I wonder if her husband is Orville. 

“Who is your husband?” I ask, wanting to get to know more about the huge family. The file only had the relatives named like "Grandson of Victim." The woman shifts uncomfortably in her chair as if asking her personal questions is something horrid to her.

“Uh, Churchill Nightly.” She says with a more shy tone than she had been using before. So not Orville.

“And do you know who found the body?” After I said it the tea kettle started wailing. I am used to it. I fancy tea more than any other beverage and have the sound constantly ringing in my ears. 

“Oh, one sec,” She says and goes up to pour the tea. I notice that she only got one cup out of the cupboard. She doesn’t fancy tea as much as I do I guess. I make a note of that in my notepad, but realise I still don’t know her name. I make a new page for her making sure to leave space at the top for her name. I bullet the following notes; doesn’t like tea, American, and married to Churchill Nightly.

She places my cup of tea on a small plate and hands it to me. "Do happen to have some milk?" I ask her, and she quickly grabs some from the refrigerator and pour it into my cup before handing it back to me. I mumble a thanks, and begin to drink it. She talks again. 

“I found the body last night,” She says, sitting down in her seat. I set my tea on the table to write down another note; found the body. 

“And you are?” 

“Agnes Barnes, I work at the filming studio about twenty minutes away.” She answers. I saw the studio on my way to the mansion. I make another note; works at a filming studio. I also add her name to the top of my page. I would call myself a fairly organized note-writer. 

“Is anyone else home?” I ask hoping to get to know more people than just Agnes in the family. After that I would start the more hardcore interviewing. 

“Yeah---yes, Helen, Rose, Orville, Victor, Mary Anne, and Charles.” She says, I guess I will meet at least six more suspects today. I wonder why Agnes wasn’t at her filming studio, since that’s where she worked. 

“And they are?” 

“You probably want to check in with Helen first,” She suggests. “She has been crying in her room ever since last night.” I assume Helen was the wife then. 

“Thanks and-”

“Up the stairs, second room to the right.” I thank her again and head up the stairs of doom. I turn back, hopeful.

“Do you happen to have an elevator?” I ask. She shakes her head. Okay, this is happening. I face the spiral staircase. It glittered in the sunlight. I wonder if there were any housekeepers because the place sure looks so shiny. My hands starts to sweat and my head feels like it is on a driedel that won’t stop spinning. I see my face coming closer and closer to the ground and before I know it everything goes black.   

Author's Note

this is an old story that I decided to refurbish. I appreciate comments and feedback! :)