He knew it was his last chance. Should he mess up this case, he would be dishonorably discharged from his unit. The detective strove to hear what the only pair in the bar was speaking about. While he was getting up and inching slowly toward the counter, his suspect caught his eye. The suspect shifted in his seat, blocking the investigators only opening into the couple's conversation. Rising, the detective stumbled to the bartender, pretending to be drunk.
“Another round for me,” he slurred, keeping his guise.
“Are you sure that's a good idea, sir?” The bartender asked, raising his eyebrow, “this is your fifth round.”
Still slurring his speech, the detective replied, “of course!” Nodding furiously, he stumbled blindly back to his seat.
While waiting for his drink, the detective looked around, observing his surroundings. It was winter. A cold, brisk wind blew in the street, making them unusually quiet for the average late night in 1928 Chicago. The bar was dark and empty. There were only three people in it, the detective, his suspect, and his beautiful companion. The detective glanced over at his suspect. The man was dressed well, his clothes pressed neatly and his maroon hat covering his eyes suspiciously. His companion was a gorgeous lady dressed in a crimson satin dress. Her silky, golden hair was curled fashionably. Although she appeared pretentious, snobbish and superficial, he tried really hard not to gape at her striking figure. Flicking his eyes back to the man, the detective noticed that he seemed rather nervous.
He noticed that the couple had been conversing in hushed tones for close to an hour now, occasionally stealing glances at the supposedly drunk detective. While waiting for the right moment, the detective reviewed his case in his head for the hundredth time. He was an undercover cop trying to discover the identity of the top criminal in Chicago. If he got lucky, he would even be able to arrest him. His suspect was said to be an expert in disguise. Studying the curious figure with the scarlet lady, he could understand why.
Suddenly, movement broke his train of thought. To his horror, the detective realized he had forgotten to continue his drunken stupor during his contemplation. The suspect whipped his hand out of his pocket and shot the detective in the side with a small 9mm pistol. Crumpling to the ground, the detective grabbed his side, desperately trying to slow the bleeding. An intense, stabbing pain shot through his body.
Several mysterious occurrences happened next. The lady in red, rather than running and screaming, rose to her full height and smirked at his collapsing figure. Glancing at her, the bartender, a young man in top form, turned away quickly and began minding an already very clean row of beer mugs. He appeared to be simply terrified of the scarlet lady.
“Hello, detective.” Signaling to her companion, she enunciated in a beautiful British accent. “Bring the poor man a seat.”
An epiphany struck the detective. The answer had been staring him in the face the entire time, literally. Whispering hoarsely, he forced the realization from his lips.
“You're it! You're the criminal I've been hunting for.” Her impeccable Queen's English made his New Jersey accent he had had since he was a little boy suddenly sounded harsh and grating to their ears.
“Now why would you say that, my dear detective?” Picking him up and dropping on a hard wooden stool, the detective’s original suspect placed his gun against the detective's back hostage style.
“I can’t let you go now that you know my little secret, can I?” The detective met her cold blue stare with an equally dark one.
“How did you do it? How did you fool so many people into believing these crimes were committed by someone else?”
“Elementary, my dear detective. I merely planted enough clues as to point it to someone else. As the police force has pointed out, I am a master of disguise. Besides, no one ever suspects a woman, especially a beautiful one. Now that I’ve answered all your questions, we’re done here.” She gestured to her bodyguard, as the detective guessed her companion was.
“Finish him off.”
This is a story Clio wrote for school. She was to look at a picture (she would tell you what that picture was if she remembered) and write a story based on it. She wanted to try her hand at a mystery/detective story, and she dearly hopes you like it.
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