Murdersdale 1

The bells tolled twice, the clanging a clarion call that heralded nothing but bad news. Corndale had had its fair share of muggings and murders, so the death bells did toll, just not frequently enough to make the town a no-go area.

The people thronged to the bell house, the male youths leading the park with a somewhat disturbing zest to see a murder scene. Although Detective Manson had seen it countless times before, it still unnerved him to see how they rushed towards the bell house where he stood with Marcel, the farmer who’d discovered the body, and the Sheriff.

He drew his hat low over his eyes and watched the rest of the villagers throng into the compound, getting a good glance of everyone who came. The observation was a dreadfully tiring process, yet it was one he had to carry out if the case was to be solved any quicker.

Finally, the whole place was full, and then he peered at the sheriff, urging him to take the cue and tell the townspeople why they were gathered.

Sheriff Mantle sighed as he snapped his finger, causing the Detective and Marcel to part. Right behind them was the cold, limp body of Lady Cynster, the old lady who owned the inn by the lake. He frowned, drinking in the screams, the low sighs of shock, and then the hush that fell over the crowd when they saw what killed her.

The deep cut across her neck severed her neck and spine, making her head to dangle loosely on her shoulders. Her clothes were soaked in blood, and the look of her face was one of bone-chilling horror.

The thought of what had happened at the time of death to induce such a frightening look did things to the mind, and the Sheriff was sure that many of these youths wouldn’t sleep comfortably for a week or so. It was a good thing youngsters weren’t allowed at these ‘meetings’.

“This is a most unusual and unnerving case,” he began in his rich baritone voice, peppered with an accent that was telling of the fact that age was catching up. “She was found right here. At the bell house. By Marcel over here,” he finished, pointing casually towards Marcel's direction.

The farmer seemed quite uncomfortable to be in the center of things, and looked at his feet, squirming a little before muttering “Yea, he’s right. Found ‘er while I was coming to get some water for my…uh, house,” he said finally, almost heaving a sigh of relief when the Sheriff continued.

“And as you can see, it’s a murder case we have on our hands. We are yet to get a coroner’s report yet, but our deductions show that she’s been dead for a while now. The sun has just risen, so why was she out here that early in the morning?”

The Detective quipped. “I don’t think it would have been in place for her to be here at any time of the day. She’s old; looks well over 80 if you ask me, so surely she’d have had someone to be doing this for her?”

The townspeople all fixed their eyes on the new face for a few seconds, their expressions ranging from disgust to contempt, to indifference, and then a few seemed to be interested in him in…intimate ways.

The Sheriff seemed to regain his composure and then he added. “This is              Detective Jedidiah Manson from Springfield County. He was in the area for some other business, but he offered to stay awhile and help with the investigation. I guess he just can’t take his eyes off such an ‘interesting crime scene,” the Sheriff joked, looking at Jedidiah as though looking for approval.

Jedidiah grimaced inwardly as he managed to smile. It was true that he’d been here on personal business and was ‘opportune’ to have stumbled upon the case, but he was by no means overly enthusiastic about the case. Instead, he just turned back to the crowd and took off his hat, his chin-long auburn hair sashaying in the morning wind.

“That brings us back to the question I asked earlier,” he said, his eyes now darting from face to face in the crowd. “Who was responsible for attending to the woman’s needs for water?”

A hush fell over the crowd, and then low murmuring took its place as heads turned towards three ladies. The way the crowd seemed to part, forming a distinct circle around the ladies amused Jedidiah.

They were eager to distance themselves from the ‘culprits’.

“Rest assured that nothing is decided yet. There’s no clue that incriminates these ladies, and they, like everyone else in this compound, are suspects.”

The buzzing sounded of a cacophony of hushed discussions and angry bursts filled the air, something he was not the least perturbed about. Country people, he thought, well acquainted with their mannerisms.

”But first, I’ll start with my first suspect, Marcel,” he said, turning towards the farmer as the crowd went silent, all eyes on the two men.

“What the ‘ell are ya callin’ me into this fer?” the man asked, a guilty look washing over his angry face.

“You said you were here to get some water for your house, did you not?” Jedidiah said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Yea, I did say that! So what’s all this business?”

“So where, pray tell, is your bucket?”

Marcel broke out in a sweat.

 ******

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