Let's Meet Again

ONE

I grazed the creamy pigmented lip gloss over my lips and pressed them. It smoothly slid like a fluffy butter chunk. My coat smelled like onions, so I had to apply a toxicatingly fresh perfume which pierced through my nose, giving me an entirely relaxing feel. With one last glance at the mirror I rushed into my cab.

My dyed hair rested till my shoulders. They were in the shades of brown, so dark that they almost looked black. I was in the outfit of an ideal investigation woman. A peach coloured over coat with formal blue pants and a black top (which was burning hot, not to mention) I wanted to carry a fancy beret but my hair looked better wavy and tangled than locked within an annoying beret.

I was observing my phone throughout the journey. The driver, he was an amiable man yet we communicated only a little. He seemed desi, with beard, the facial feature flashed him as an Indian.

I am familiar with Indians because the wife of uncle Thomas is an Indian. She is from the damp ice coated heavens of Kashmir. Her red cheeks flicker like beetroot and her eyes shine like pearls freshly dragged out from shells. 

As we reached at the mansion of the unfortunate skulls, I flitted outside the cab with grace as elegance followed my heels. With each step I showcased the sexy goddess. But again, I was about to roll down over the floor because of my deliberately grown up tendency to be clumsy. As the hair gripped my hair and lifted them up - I looked even more gorgeous.

I felt flabbergasted at the mere sight of their brobdingnagian mansion. The walls were painted with shimmering colours and the hallway was very captivating that I was spellbound. I was extremely discombobulate for a minute as I drowned into the fragrance of fresh cinnamon seeds.

I had a minor interaction with a lady, Florence Davis.

"Wait, he is no more?" she was astonished.
"No, ma'am."
"Are you sure?" she responded in a hushed voice.
"Yes, I am his daughter."
"My lord, he was such a good man. Mr. Henry Jones."
She cupped her mouth closed with her palms. I almost hitched and suffocated.
It was again an anxiety attack hitting my nerves with hammers.

"I am Cristina Jones. I will be solving the mystery, I will complete his last case."
"That's great. But, you father, Henry, may his soul rests in peace."

The woman made me furious due to her constant tendency of providing sympathy. I flashed formal smiles over my face continuously.

Mom and sister had conflicts with father, regular showdowns were ordinary for us. But I always admired him the say way he cherished me. I appreciated his patience for enduring profanity thrown by my sister and mom, at him. He was incredible - even after a broken relationship, he respected mom and didn't tutt a word at her even when she accused him, yelled on him, hated him.

"Mrs. Florence, elaborate this incident a little," I insisted.
"My husband, Alexander heard those screams at midnight. He roushed me from a deepened sleep and we rushed to my son's room, his name is Asher. Was, I mean. He was soaking with blood and his lifeless body laid rigid on the floor."

She thoughtfully paused and began to weep. I noticed her dark circles dazzling like a black hole.
"And, there was no one else in the room," she added.
"Calm down."
I gently rubbed my palms on her back to calm her down.

The sofa on which I sat was awfully glorious. The fluffy seat was incredibly comfortable and it was very large and breath-taking.

"Do you have any guesses for the culprit?"
"Yes."
She was crystal clear at her words this time.
"It's Jasper. He is taking vengeance from us."
"Who is Jasper?"
I flickered a sharp and stern look at her, which might have threatened her to utter the reality.

"Well, Jasper. He is my eldest son."
I coughed a snort.
"Tell me briefly. Brutal brief information I need," I said.
A gasp came out from the bottom of her heart before she gathered herself together and spoke
"Nonetheless, he is, he well got involved into drugs and fuck so we threw him out from our house. He is no more a part of us. That bastard, he is a sinful fucker. But he flourished his own wealthy life. I've acknowledged the fact he is a shit piece. Who told him to dig his feet into business and establish a comfortable life?"

She blurted out. I noticed her emotions layered with tardiness and annoyance.
That was my golden chance of wrapping her words which flapped on her tongue through envy.

"So, wait. Basically you are saying he is richer than you?"
"Well, he was a companion of my son till last year and now. His company gained better profits and he is. Yes well richer."
"Strikes me as odd. Are you accusing him out of envy?"

Sweat rolled from her forehead.

"No-no! He has a tough motive you see. My son could be richer any moment so he, he killed him."
"I see. But disowning, uh what was his name?" I fell perplexited when I tried recalling his name.
She interrupted with a suggestion,"Jasper."
"Yeah, Jasper," I pounded the name into my brain and continued,"So disowning Jasper only had a single reason, drugs?"
"Yes."
I scoffed. A laugh rang in my mind.
"Drugs are so strong that they can make a mother disown her child. Your blood flows in his veins, didnt you think that?"
She observed my face sluggishly and lowered her head.
"Well," she murmured steadily,"he was adopted and I hated him from the start."

My eyes widened with suspiciousness. This lady seemed dangerously devilish, she overshared which was good for me.
She confided things she should have bottled up.

"What did you hate him?"
"Because, he brought misfortune to our life. After he came, my mother became a cancer patient and my brother got divorced with my sister in law."
"Dont you feel like you blamed him without fatal facts?"
"I mean."
Her words vapourized as I smirked.
"Anyways, I crave to meet him. Where can I?"

She breathed heavily before streching her arms and offering me a card.
"This is his address," she hissed. She seemed ashamed.

"Thank you. I feel grateful talking to you, Mrs. Florence."
I stood up and bowed down at her respectfully before leaving.

As I trotted back, I held the cards with my index and middle finger as I swung it within the ratio of my sight. I glanced at it with a scoff and whispered,"Mr. Jasper Jones, I am comin'."
My voice was imditimidating.

Who is he?