The Normal's Game

Ch. 1-4: A Mistake by Pen

"So, Michael," the brunette said.

"tell me what happened."

Arvel and Michael were sat, facing one another. The scenery mimicked how this whole journey started. Late at night, with a raging storm and a fireplace to light the mood. It has only been twenty-three hours or so since all of this happened. A brief recap was in order.

"Ted is innocent. He didn't send those emails to Bruce, he never even got into a fight with him, his mouse was dead and had been asking his mother for new batteries for days," Michael explained.

The brunette stared at Michael, his eyes squinted to process and commented, "he didn't just used the laptop without a mouse?"

"His mother prohibited him from using the laptop and the mouse was dead, unlikely he went through all that trouble just to send emails, especially because it was out of character, even the teachers said so."

The brunette's head cocked back. A deep breath, he inhaled. "Okay, what next? So he had no motive and it was unusual, why did he confess?"

Michael went silent and stared blankly into the nearby fire, a flame burning passionately, telling him the answer to Arvel's question. The silence made itself feel comfortable but Michael soon kicked it out with an eye twitch. "Remember how Gwendolyn said Ted liked to watch cartoons?"

Arvel understood immediately what Michael meant. "He's playing superhero?"

"The murder had no witnesses and no footage. Why would the child be so careful but let himself get caught and confess? More likely, he was threatened by the real murderer."

"Seems like a detail that should've been obvious to the police," Alexandre replied.

Michael's chin lifted from his palm, a realization had struck his head like a tennis ball in the park. However, he put his chin back down and continued, as if he hadn't heard Arvel's comment. "There was also the pencil case,"

"Hmm?"

"You asked why someone would only bring one pen to school, well, he didn't. There was a pen in Mr Lee's office, it was identical to Ted's pen but had blood on it. He had a meeting with Bruce's parents that wasn't in the database and Bruce was, conveniently, murdered,"

The noirette rose up from his seat and strolled to the near window. "There's also his position: vice principal, one of the last people you would suspect. Asking for the boy's email password would've been as easy as taking his pen."

"Even so, Michael, what do you suggest we do with this? You can't use your fake names with the police."

"I've sent an anonymous letter to the police station. So long as Ted knows that, whatever was threatened isn't going to happen, he'll tell the police everything and he would be free," Michael finished, setting an end to their dialogue.

The songs of thunder and rain sang in their flat, painting the room with the same colours as it used to be, before all the madness. Only few dialogue in between to break the illusion.

"Impressive, Michael," Arvel praised.

"not only have you solved this case, but you've had human interactions. You were a bit rusty but a start is a start."

A reply to Arvel was his last priority, Michael's mind was rerunning all his memories of the events, it was telling him that he had missed something. A detail? A link somewhere within the story? Mal street, Gwendolyn, Ted, Bruce, Lucille, Davin, Anthony, what was he not linking?

A scoff was pushed out of the noirette. "Right, and I almost got recognized by that Anthony Lee. Honestly-"

A realization severed the comment. Mal. M-AL. M-A-L.

"Mal is a bit of a strange name, isn't it?" Michael's mouth moved promptly.

Arvel turned his head towards the black-haired man in confusion at the sudden change of topic. "I'm sorry?"

"Mal street, where Gwendolyn lives," Michael paused and grabbed a piece of paper from his desk, swiftly scribbling on it.

"Monday, month, my, me, man."

After just spewing words, Michael stopped. The sudden halt intrigued Arvel, curious at what else the noirette had figured out. "What is it?"

"Mal; Murderer Anthony Lee."

Alexandre scoffed out a breath of air and chuckled a bit, "Oh come on, Michael, it's just a coincidence. He chose Ted to frame for convenience more likely, stop overthinking it."

The noirette's accelerating heartbeat started to slow down, returning to its normal pace. Michael placed his pen and paper down and picked up a wooden picture frame on his desk, staring deeply at it. Arvel was stunned at the sudden acknowledgement of the photo but was more surprised at what Michael said next.

"My intuition tells me otherwise."