Murder at Winterbrook

2. Murder at Winterbrook

          The clock's hands showed a reading of nine-thirty. The vivid sun finally showed up, getting rid of the disturbing clouds that covered it and getting the half-world lightened up again. The atmosphere was as if decorated with make-up. The fresh-looking sun peeked its circular-shaped golden jaundiced-looking face over the horizon and the thin chilled air embraced our body. It's a day-to-day routine that everyone goes through. As legs and arms are stretched and loud and lazy yawns are sighed out, they all commence getting ready for the day. The hair combed, give a slurp and chew on the scrumptious-looking nutrition-containing breakfast to gain enough stamina for the day ahead.

We reached Winterbrook and when I beamed down at my watch, I realised that it was missing and that I left it at home in a hurry. We got through Wallingford Road and I peered through the windshield the place where the hair-raising incident went on. Synchronously, I began to imagine the bloodcurdling and nightmarish event that I perceived to myself. I turned my face slightly to Kingsley who was driving the police car cautiously and attentively. He was also uptight, I could see it on his face, unable to be freed of the troublesome imaging running on our mind. Then, I twisted at the dauntless and gallant faces of Blake and Mort on the back seat. "Don't they ever fear anything?" I asked to myself, wondering if ever when they will see the dead body their reactions will be changed into terror.   

I soon pushed away the cloud of thought hovering over my mind as the car stopped at once with a short squeal. It weas time to act. We flung open the doors and closed them, finally stepping on the lifeless ground. We huddled together and walked up the way ahead of us, leading to the horror-provoking scene.

Plodding up some steps over the mud-pitched path of the meadow, we reached the garage. The old-fashioned white-coloured and mud-covered Toyota Corolla Hatchback was there, all broken up. The sides were severely crashed and the windshield was fully smashed probably because a notwithstanding of shock, all the glass scattered on the bonnet along with both front wheels punctured. The forensics were still there along with a cram-full lot of uptight-faced media encompassing around the barricaded area, in the process of clicking photos of the dead body in the thoroughly crashed car.

The forensics were tracking down any possible traces of blood with luminol along with their big bulky clothing and equipment having an appearance of a yeti.

The one and only, Blake Edward, the chivalrous-looking detective we're a pair of rubber gloves and ducked himself down the cordoned area and went up to the dead body of Mr Edgar Franklin. He was sitting into a weird-looking position along with his blood-soaked wool-lined brown-dyed coat and cracked pair of glasses. Pieces of glass were pierced through his skin also. Blake fixed an observant look across both outside and inside the car then turned his face to Kingsley, interrogating, "Had anything much of a clue been found?"

"Nope," Kingsley replied back, moving his head slightly side-to-side with disapproval, "The only things were piles of paper much of miscellaneous important documents for the business probably kept in the glove compartmentof the front seat and....er..." Kingsley considered, "Erm... and, yes! an expensive-looking and fine-quality ruby-encrusted chain was found in the coat-pocket."  At the same time, Kingsley beckoned one of the forensic who brought the plastic-packed ruby chain. Kingsley took it and showed it to Blake who gazed at it carefully, his eyebrows pulling together, bringing it into a frantic frown, simply saying, "The car is hygrophytic and mud-covered as if it had been to a moisty and boggy place. The wheels are punctured by..." He squatted down and pulled out a bullet out of it, showing it to them, "By this."

Kingsley and I stared at the bullet in an utter mix of both surprise and confusion. "And I guess that it's also on the other side's wheel." Blake walked to the other side of the vehicle and got out another bullet. A forensic came up to him along with a plastic bag where Blake dropped the two bullets into it. "I think that someone stopped the car by punctuating it and the car lose control and went upon into a moisty and muddy place where it crashed." 

"But who?" Ashing interrogated with a frenzy of bewilderment.

"Patience, my friend, patience." Blake said, "Patience will bring convenience." 

"But what do you suspect of it?" questioned a curious Kingsley.

"Murder instead of death." Blake said, "Murder at Winterbrook."

"Ha-ha! Needs to change the heading of the newspaper." Mort finally and abruptly said something at last.  

Blake paused for a moment or two then recommenced, "I'll like to meet Mr Russel Franklin."

...