Unknown killer

Unraveling threads

(ABK Hotel)

Jane and I sat down, reviewing the evidence and paperwork from the interrogation. We sorted potential leads from the regular ones. She was described as a lovely person, kind and sweet—words often spoken in the wake of tragedy, even by those who barely knew the deceased.

As I examined one of the autopsy reports, I noticed she hadn’t been beaten; it was a clean kill. Turning to Jane, I said, “The killer planned this meticulously. There weren’t any CCTV cameras around the area, which suggests we’re not dealing with an ordinary criminal here.”

“What’s still surprising is that none of her relatives have shown up yet,” she remarked, her eyes fixed on the report in her hands.

“I checked her phone; it was restored to factory settings. This case might be resolved quicker than we think because of the mark on her neck. According to my observations and the forensic report, it was carved during her murder,” I said, still focused on the book she held.

“I’ve looked into it too; I haven’t found any similarities, but the mark could be a significant lead.” I winked at her, but she didn’t catch it. “I’m planning to visit her network provider tomorrow to retrieve her information. What do you think?”

Jane shot me a skeptical look.

“Okay,” I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Those officers really helped us during the questioning.”

“They sure did,” she said, her smile returning.

“Make sure to do your own findings too,” she said, standing to gather her things.

“Care for a cup of coffee before you go?” I asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” she replied, walking toward the exit.

“Okay, sure. Goodnight.” She waved as she left.

Second Night

I visited the office of the network provider, but there was nothing unusual about her calls and messages. I glanced at Jane. “But why did the killer delete everything?” she exclaimed, her frustration evident. “Diversion or just plain stupidity,” I replied. Jane snapped her fingers. “Correct!”

Later, I went to her house. While I didn’t find anything overtly suspicious, I noticed some of her clothes were strewn about haphazardly. “Okay, but were you able to talk to her neighbor?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

“Yes, they all said she was dating a guy named Mark,” she said, meeting my gaze.

“Hmmm, Mark!” I said, curious about her reaction.

“You!” she pointed a finger at me. “Am I the only one with the name Mark? It’s even my third name!” I protested, half-joking.

“That makes it easier. Let’s gather more details on this Mark from her neighbors. It seems they all know him quite well. Getting a photo shouldn’t be difficult; otherwise, I’ll have to turn you in.”

“Oh! No! Busted!” We erupted into laughter, the tension easing momentarily.

The next day, I took it upon myself to walk from house to house, door to door, asking about this Mark. However, none of the responses were pleasant—let’s call them “perfect answers.” Most replies consisted of, “Oh! He’s cruel. He killed her. He’s mean,” and so on. It seemed like this Mark guy was having a particularly bad day, and I couldn’t shake the thoughts swirling in my mind as I continued my search. Having parked the car a bit farther away, I pressed on until I spotted a quaint house in a secluded area, where an elderly woman sat on the front porch.

“Good morning, ma’am,” I greeted as we exchanged pleasantries.

“Morning! What can I do for you?” she asked, her eyes scrutinizing us.

“My name is Maxwell. I’m a detective, and I’m conducting an investigation concerning the death of Juliet,” I explained, hoping to gain her trust.

She fell silent for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “Hmm, do you know her? Or do you know her boyfriend?” I asked, watching her closely.

“Do you mean Mark?” she asked, rising from her chair.

How did she know? I wondered. Well, it’s for the good. “Mm, yes,” I replied quickly.

She smiled warmly. “Come in. We can’t discuss this outside.” I followed her into her home.

“Please, have a seat while I make you a cup of coffee,” she said, walking into her kitchen. I zoned out, pondering her motives. Who is this woman? I sensed that something was off, or perhaps we were about to uncover something significant.

A few minutes later, she returned with two cups of coffee, two spoons, a few cubes of sugar, and some milk on a tray. She placed it on the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said as I picked up one of the cups, added four cubes of sugar and a spoonful of milk.

“You’re welcome. It’s Jones coffee,” she said.

“Oh, Jones! I’ve heard of it but never tasted it before,” I replied.

“Looks like you’re going to be the beta tester then,” she said, smiling. I nodded, a slight grin forming.

“Now, back to the topic,” I said, focusing on her. “Hmm.” I quickly swallowed the sip I had taken.

“Juliet was very close to me,” she said, her expression shifting to one of concern. “Do you mind if I record this?”

“It’s fine,” I assured her.

“Okay,” she said, pressing the record button. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“About a week ago,” she replied.

“You mentioned she was very close to you, which means you saw her often, right?”

“She stopped visiting and began to act really strangely for about a month. I did everything I could, but she didn’t open up, and then this happened. Now, tell me everything you know about her.”

“Juliet was very close to me as a neighbor, a beautiful and kind lady,” she said, her eyes glistening with emotion.

“How did you get to know her? Better yet, how did you meet her?” I pressed.

“I was her nanny when she was very young, and I worked for some years at her parents’ house before she was admitted to college. So she’s more like a daughter to me. One day, we bumped into each other at a nearby supermarket, and from there, she confided in me about a lot of things.”

“Like?” I interjected.

“Like she’s living here now and working as a teacher at Prestige School. We spent most weekends together at my house. She told me that she met a guy named Mark, and it seemed like they loved each other. She even brought him over one weekend so I could meet him. He seemed like a very cool and funny guy.”

“During your encounter with Mark, did the three of you take any pictures together?” I asked.

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Can I see it?” I requested.

“Sure.” She stood and walked into her room.

“This is it.” She handed me a frame with her, the so-called Mark, and Juliet all laughing together.

“Mm, is this him?” I asked, trying to confirm.

“Yes,” she responded.

“Thank you. You’ve been incredibly helpful.” I snapped a photo of the frame with my phone and took the last sip of coffee from my cup.

“But I don't think Mark would have done this,” she said, shaking her head.

“Why do you say that?” I focused my attention on her, intrigued.

“Because he loved her.”

I chuckled softly. “That doesn't matter. I’m a detective, and I’ve handled cases like this before. You can’t say—” I said, looking into her eyes intently. “Let me give you a tip. Before Mark, she dated a guy who broke up with her due to his unfaithfulness. He continued to bug her even after the breakup. She even mentioned he tried to kill her, but she managed to escape. That’s more likely why she moved to this remote area,” she responded, her voice trembling slightly.

“Wow, this is huge. Did she mention his name or provide any pictures?” I asked, leaning forward.

“No, but she did say they attended the same high school, and nearly all her classmates knew about their relationship,” she replied.

“Since you know a bit about her family, did she ever mention if they had any feuds? They’re not showing up,” I pressed, my tone growing urgent.

“She’s the only child,” the woman said, and suddenly, tears streamed down her face.

“Take it easy,” I said, dipping my hand into my bag and offering her a tissue. She accepted it, dabbing at her eyes.

“They had an accident on their way back from a picnic. She was the lone survivor.”

“That’s tragic. Thank you; this information really helps.” I stood, gathering my bag. “I like Jones coffee, though. I’m more than just a beta tester now,” I remarked, trying to lighten the mood.