Nightmare in Manhattan

Chapter 3

                                                                                     CHAPTER 3

Detective Smith was raring to go, we had got something! We had actually got a lead... It was just a hunch she had but holy! We got something! Smith and I were roaring down the street, sirens burning the way through the air, drowning out the sounds of the street people talking, whistling, yelling. I drove, of course. Smith's car got smashed up in a chase against a gang of men and women, so we had to use my car. It wasn't the fastest and latest technology like Smiths, but it did the job. It did it well, too.

We arrived at the Murphys house around 11am, the drive wasn't that long, just tedious. I pounded on the door. No reply. I did it again but yelled "NYPD! OPEN UP!" and to our surprise, the door creaked open slowly and Smith barged it open and we hurried inside. I saw a familiar face laying on the floor with a gun wound in her head. It was Mrs. Murphy. Why was she dead? Who had killed her? And for what?! Smith looked around the house whilst I examined the body. It smelt like it had been there for a while but how could the door possibly open if the body was there the whole time?

Whilst Smith was looking around she tripped over a wire. A fishing wire. There was a very complex design of machinery hooked up to the wall, door, floor and floorboards outside the house on the front porch. Could that have been how the door opened whilst Mrs. Murphy lay motionless on the floor? Smith called the forensic crew to come and test the body to see what she had actually died of. As normally criminals usually drug someone before ending said person's life. Most cases which had a dead person in them, normally had some kind of blunt force trauma, drugs or poisoning. I just hoped she had a dignified murder. This was definitely no "accident", this was intended to kill her.

Smith and I hurried back to my office. Neither of us spoke the entire car ride, the tension between us was so thick, you could cut it with a butter knife. When we were back in my office, she broke down in tears, but she wouldn't tell me what was wrong. She was acting so unlike herself, that was scary. She stopped after she fell asleep on the small couch I had positioned next to the window. Lucky for her, my blinds are always shut by the cleaners at 10pm. I don't know what came over her, but I hope she still wants to continue our case. As bad as it sounds, I was glad Mrs. Murphy was murdered. We needed this. We needed this clue.