Murdersdale 8

Jedidiah could not help but wonder how the Sheriff got into the mix of things. Was he working with Scarecrow Thomas’s gang? There was a chance that whoever sent them could have also gotten the Sheriff on his payroll, either to make the process of obtaining the diamond faster, or to deter Jedidiah himself.

There was even a remote possibility that he could be the mastermind of the whole attempt to coerce the dead woman to release the diadem. And then there was still the possibility of the Sheriff working alone as another person who’d managed to do some research and trace the diamond all the way from Spain to this town.

Tracing that he would also need to do himself if he wanted an edge in this investigation.

But for now, he decided that his mission today would be to take a train to the city for a while, Armandshire to be precise. That was the closest developed town, and it had a state-of-the-art library – another amazing feat. There, he would do some required sleuthing.

Forgetting something? A voice asked within his head. His ‘inner detective’ as he liked to call it.

Then he remembered he had been followed yesterday, and that there was a possibility he was being followed even now. By either the Sheriff or any other parties that were involved. He was going to have to be extra cautious if he was going to solve this mystery.

“If cases like this didn’t give me such an orgasmic thrill,” he said to himself, “I’d have left this one already!”

He looked over his shoulder discreetly and saw that he wasn’t being followed. Of course, there was the chance that his stalkers were a lot more experienced this time, but there were still ways of losing even the most experienced shadows. Smiling, he hailed a carriage and headed off for the train.

The Sheriff sat down in the bar, wondering if Jedidiah had found out yet. It had been a risky idea to go raid his room the previous day, that he admitted. But then, given the intelligence of the man and the high probability of his solving the case, the risk could be excused. He knew every short cut, including his secret footpath that could allow him reach the inn at least 5 minutes faster than Jedidiah. He had told the innkeeper that he was trying to investigate Jedidiah on suspicions of being the culprit, and with the level of trust he had earned in the town, he could count on the innkeeper to keep it a secret. What he had not counted on was Jedidiah’s early return, despite the fact that he had walked back, and then, as he learned earlier, he had been delayed by a stalker. His hand tightened around his cup and he gritted his teeth. There was no reward for the risk taken now, and he might just have blown his cover. “Boss is definitely not going to be happy about this,” he muttered under his breath.

Finally reaching Armandshire, Jedidiah went straight into the library, after performing several checks to ensure he had not been followed. He was bug-free today, something that he appreciated, and he went and picked the necessary books and headed for a desk. The library’s seats were arranged such that each desk was two way, meaning there was someone on the other side. In his case, it was a lady in a simple burgundy dress. The dress did not have so much flair, but he then realised that clothes were only as beautiful as the person who wore them. Despite her minimal jewellery and makeup, she still managed to look alluring. Jedidiah’s embarrassment at his inward worshipping of her goddess-like nature became worse when he noticed she was looking directly at him. “Er…sorry…Good day,” he said, not waiting for an answer before sinking into his seat. He was a lone wolf, a cold hearted, steel-eyed detective who’d solved over fifty gruesome cases in his six years of practice, and he was here going all soft over a drop dead gorgeous.. Pinching himself, he called his thoughts to order and sat down, opening the history books. America kept a record of all mass immigrations into the country, and he was glad for that. He checked the dates. In 1850, a migrant ship, The Conquistador, dropped anchor on America’s shores. The names of all who were on board wasn’t here, sadly. By that time, records might have not been properly taken, and even if they were, these things would be confidential. But he could see from some newspaper clippings that a handful of the migrants were rumoured to be Spanish elites who were just escaping from the terror that had taken place a little over two weeks ago. It was chronologically in order, and it proved that there was in fact a little movement of some Spaniards into America. The details were too sketchy, so… “This’ll be more relevant to the case, Detective.” A female voice with a distinct Spanish accent said. He looked up to see the beautiful lady dropping the page of an old newspaper onto his desk. Looking at it, he saw it contained a report citing that a huge diamond suspected to be the missing El Ojo del Cielo could just have been on the ship. As he looked back at her incredulously, trying to understand how she knew about his investigation, she added. “And you were not careful enough to ensure you were not followed.”

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@Leo_kitti, @Hanzell, @Ozzyy I think it’s high time I lay off the plot twists and work with what I have to develop the story.