If Only She Knew

13. The Murderer

Uncertain Point of View...

The night just started falling over the town of Big Bucharest and the clock struck 20 P.M on the first day of August.

Through the diaphanous curtains the bluish, purple light sneaked in, and you could see the sun spread on the west, like an omelet, or red yellow paint slowly dripping behind the blocks.

The city looked certainly more alive in the evening than in the daytime, as if it was a grave in which the ghost residents came out at night.

A black gloved hand drew the blinds suddenly as if the person was tired of watching this, and turned around, walking away from the window.

They walked towards a nice, crystal coffee table, in front of a tall mahogany library, where they grabbed a bottle of claret, and filled themselves a tall glass of it.

Drinking from it, they flitted through a magazine, which looked to be a number of UK's Men's Health Magazine, reading something related to fashion.

Because that article didn't catch their attention, they stood up from the chair, leaving the magazine there, open, glass in hand as they walked.

On the right hand they wore a watch, strapped over the leather glove, and after glancing at the hour, the person looked slightly alarmed, as if they were a CEO who had missed their airplane to a vitally important meeting, or as if they forgot picking their kid up from school.

The person started putting on a long black leather jacket, a cap that successfully covered all of their hair, and strapping a scarf around their neck, that covered their mouth as well, they forsook the apartment and walked down the stairs.

Inside their thoughts, they hoped that they wouldn't pass by any neighbor, but they couldn't help not encountering old Joe from the ground floor, a paunchy man who always seemed to be on drugs.

He was just too positive, always caught in a beatitude that surfaced suspicions.

Seeing Tay darting down the stairs, dressed suspiciously well in the summer, there was no suspicion in old Joe's eyes.

Only the big, annoying smile that showed some crooked, yellow teeth, and the usual question full of neighborly care:

"Ah, hello, Tay. You up and doing fine?" Joe asked of Tay.

Tay gave the old man a quick, smart eyed glance and greeted back in a guttural, muffled by the scarf voice.

Tay was always really relieved after passing by the man, as they went out through the front door, towards their unknown destination, gloved hands, scarf covering a third of their face, cap on, black clothes, as the night started falling over the small town of Big Bucharest...

*

Madam, please give us the details first.''

''Of course I was going to, Michael. This morning a call came in from a woman in her thirties, not living far away from here, who had discovered her husband dead in the living room, and she believed him to have been killed by one of his friends. She somehow slept through it all, and her excuse was that she's a tight sleeper.''

Ariana cleared her voice. ''Are you suspecting the wife?''

The officer drew her eyes on Ariana.

"You really have no choice but to suspect anyone when working in this field. But we also have reason to believe this is related to the other nine disappearances and murders."

Ariana gave the woman her most cross, doubtful eyes but a rectus smile to be polite.

She really thought the woman was one of those people who were ready to find a clue to this mystery and solve it at all costs.