Mystery Story I Wrote

[CuratorOTL IG]

So, I started writing this story for a creative writing class at my school. As such I was on a time crunch, and the story was much shorter than I had originally planned.

This is my first foray into the mystery genre(I usually do fantasy series, but I don't feel comfortable publicly sharing my future profession online), so please offer any criticisms or praises.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.

Spoiler for length

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Maxwell Sterling 2

All Your Fault

 

The car drove down the quiet road, chugging slightly as it moved along at a steady pace. The headlights illuminated the asphalt in front of the car, leading the way in the night. Inside, Maxwell Sterling checked his watch anxiously.

Shoot, he thought. Shoot, shoot, shoot. I’m late.

Though he was in quite a hurry, he kept to the speed limit, anxiously tapping his fingers against the steering wheel and checking his watch sporadically.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Max pulled up to the diner. A bright, flickering neon sign read The Diner on the roof of the store. The owners were known for their food, not their creativity.

Great, Max, he thought as he stepped out of his car and walked to the front door of the restaurant. Third date and you’re late. Way to set a precedent.

The soft sound of jukebox music could be heard even outside the diner, and the bright light inside stained the black asphalt with its cheeriness. Max paused for a second in front of the door, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. It’s only Alicia, scolded the logical part of his mind. What are you so worried about? You’ve only known her for your whole life.

Still, the less logical side - the side that clung to the awkwardness of his teen years - fought against it. It’s Alicia. ALICIA. Why wouldn’t I be nervous?

With a shake of his head, Max pushed those thoughts down and turned his attention back to The Diner. He corrected the trench coat he wore a bit, then pushed against the door. 

The music inside the diner grew louder, and the buzz of chatter filled the room. Max looked around at the tables around him, but he didn’t see Alicia anywhere.

What do you know? His logical voice perked up again. She’s late, too. See? No reason to be nervous.

Max took a seat at a table near the corner of the store and sat down. Social situations weren’t his strong suit, and a crowded diner like this was a nightmare for him. He always preferred to take a seat where he could see everybody. The few friends he had - especially Alicia - had always told him that he was too suspicious, and Max had never been able to argue. He was suspicious. A detective like him had to be.

A few minutes passed, and a waitress came up to the table, wearing a white apron and holding a notepad in one hand, with a pen in the other. 

“Can I get your order, hun?” she said, with a distinct southern drawl. 

Divorced once, Max noted, noticing a patch of slightly lighter skin around the woman’s ring finger on her left hand. Never remarried. Out loud, he said, “I’m waiting for someone.”

The woman nodded, smiling, and walked away. She limped slightly on her left leg as she did so. Injury when she was younger. Teen years, probably. Fourteen to eighteen. Possibly a cheerleader at one point? Until she hurt her leg.

His talent to know things about people that weren’t readily apparent - at least to others - had always freaked out people. Probably what contributed to my low number of friends, Max thought ruefully, and returned to scanning the crowd. Just me, Alicia, and Keith. The weirdo, the rich kid, and the nerd.

Max had never been quite able to understand why exactly Alicia had become his friend in the first place. She had been the daughter of likely the richest man in town - maybe even in the state - before he had been killed during their senior year.

I helped solve that case, Max thought. The butler and the archaeologist, working in tandem. It had the police stumped for quite some time.

Max checked the clock on his phone. At least ten minutes after he and Alicia had agreed to meet up. He scanned the room again, but still saw no sign of her. 

Maybe she’s stuck in traffic, he thought. Though, in New Pine, traffic wasn’t usually a problem. Most people preferred to walk.

Ten minutes turned to twenty, then thirty, and still Alicia didn’t show up. Max fidgeted nervously with his hands. The divorced cheerleader-waitress came back to the table.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, hun,” she said, in that same distinct drawl, “but I don’t think she’s comin’.”

Max nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said forlornly. “I’m sorry. Thank you for your time.”

“Not a problem, hun,” the woman said as Max stood up. He walked through the diner, scanning one last time, but still not finding Alicia. He went through the front door and exited into the cold, dark night. The muffled music no longer seemed cheerful, but rather… repressed. Max sighed and got to his car. 

Idiot, he thought. What’d you think? That it would actually happen? She’s way above you. You never had a chance.

He started the car, trying hard to ignore the voices in his head, and drove off into the night.

* * * *

Max’s car pulled to a stop outside of a tall, blue house. Close by, another car pulled away from the street. Max looked up at the house. He had always thought that it looked as if it had been squeezed between the two neighboring houses and not been given enough space to grow. Alicia had always told him he was weird whenever he brought it up, but Keith had understood.

That’s probably why we were such good friends, Max thought as he stepped out of the car. He checked his phone again, just to make sure that Alicia hadn’t texted him back. She hadn’t.

What is going on? he wondered. She never ignored my texts before.

Max began the walk up to the house, climbing the steps and knocking on the door. No one answered. He chewed his lip uncertainly. Something is wrong.

He knocked again, harder this time. “Alicia!” he called. “It’s Max. I wanted to talk.”

Still no answer came. “Alicia?” he called again. He was starting to grow panicked. In a burst of fear, he tried the door handle.

The door opened.

Max stood, shocked for a moment, before pushing the door open all the way through. “Alicia?” he called. The house was dark, all the lights turned off. He stumbled over a few objects before eventually finding his way to where he knew the lamp was. Pulling the string to turn it on, he looked around the room.

It was completely trashed. Junk littered the floor. Couch covers, pillows, even plates were strewn about, as if a great struggle had happened here. Max’s blood froze.

“Alicia!” he cried, panic creeping into his voice. “Alicia, where are you?”

 He tore through the house, calling her name. She wasn’t on the ground floor. She wasn’t on the second floor. She wasn’t even in the basement.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of searching, he pulled out his phone from his pocket. Fumbling with it, he dialed a number and held it up to his ear. The tone rang once, twice, then somebody picked up.

“Police? This is Maxwell Sterling. I’d like to report a missing person.”

* * * *

“When exactly would you say you found Ms. Morrison missing?”

The large police detective stood above Max, frowning. He had dark shades on and dirty blonde hair. His face seemed to always be bent downwards, as if something was constantly keeping him in a dour mood. Max didn’t recognize him from his frequent visits to the police station, so he must have been a new recruit.

“I don’t know,” Max said helplessly, eyes flicking around the room. “Ten? Maybe eleven? I can’t quite remember.”

“And what were you doing before you found her house empty?” the detective asked, writing something down on his notepad.

“I was waiting for her at The Diner.”

“Which diner,” the detective asked.

“The Diner,” Max said. “That’s its name. The Diner.” Definitely a new recruit. Everybody in New Pine knows The Diner.

The detective nodded, writing something else down. He eyed Max suspiciously. “Mr. Sterling, you must understand-” he began, but Max cut him off.

“That I’m the number one suspect, since I was close to her and was at the crime scene?” he said. The detective closed his mouth and nodded stiffly. Max waved his hands, as if shooing away a fly. “Whatever. You won’t find any evidence for that, since I didn’t do it. But what have your people found so far?”

“Mr. Sterling, I understand that you’re grieving right now, and we’re doing our best-”

“Don’t give me that spiel,” Max said, irritated. “I’ve given it to countless others; I know it's fake. You’re just trying to get me out of the way, because you think my connection to this case will be a liability, which in most cases would be the correct assumption, since most families of the victims know next to nothing about solving crimes like these. But I assure you, I won’t be a liability. I’ll have to leave that responsibility up to your city self.”

The detective was clearly getting annoyed now, but he kept his temper in check. Max didn’t think it would be a good idea to interrupt him a third time, so he let the detective speak. “Regardless, we can’t let citizens interfere with police business. I’m sure you understand.”

“Do you have any idea who I am, or did they skip that part of your orientation three months ago?”

The detective seemed taken aback, and not the least bit offended. He looked to the other officers scouring the scene, and one nodded. “Maxwell Sterling, sir. He’s helped us on a number of occasions. Consulting detective. Best record in the business.”

The detective turned back to Max, a newfound - if somewhat reluctant - respect showing in his eyes.

“Now,” Max said, “what have your men found? If you’re smart, which I assume you are, judging by that shiny new badge, you’ll let me help.”

The detective gestured to one of his men, and they brought several plastic bags with bits of evidence inside of them. “We’ll still need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Sterling,” the detective said as Max began looking through the evidence. He waved his hand. “We can worry about that later. What’s this?” He held up a bag with a cassette tape in it.

The detective looked to the man who had handed Max the evidence. “We found it on the kitchen counter. It looked rather conspicuously placed, so we put it in the evidence.”

“Did Alicia use cassettes regularly?” the detective asked Max, who shook his head. 

“No. Not that I know of at least. And I’ve known her for quite a long time,” Max said, examining the bag. “Can I get a pair of gloves?”

The detective nodded to his men, and they brought a pair of plastic gloves to Max, who pulled them on. 

A knock came at the front door. Everybody in the house turned towards it. Max glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of a green vest over a button-up shirt.

No way, he thought. “Who is that?” asked the blonde detective.

“Friend of mine,” Max answered, striding towards the door. He opened it to reveal the confused face of Keith Miller. He was wearing a button-up with a fancy designer vest over top. A pair of glasses were perched atop the bridge of his nose, and he had significantly more hair than he had the last time Max had seen him. It looked like he was trying to grow out an afro.

“Keith!” Max cried. “What are you doing here?”

“Excuse me, who is this?” asked the detective behind Max, peering suspiciously at Keith.

“Keith Miller, detective,” Keith said. “And who are you?”

“DI Cavendish, at your service,” the detective said, shaking Keith’s hand. “Might I ask what you’re doing in town?”

“I’m a friend of Max’s and Alicia’s. I was driving by and saw the police cars. What’s going on?”

“Alicia… disappeared,” Max said.

“We believe her to be kidnapped at this point in time,” the detective said.

“Max, I’m so sorry!” Keith said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m… fine. For now. Detective Cavendish here has graciously allowed me to help with the case,” Max said. “But, Keith, what are you doing in town? I thought you were still in that university in New York.”

“I was,” Keith said. “They let us out on a short break after a fire broke out in the chemistry lab, so I thought I’d come back to New Pine for the time being. You know, catch up with you all. I got here just a few hours ago. I was going to visit Alicia tonight, but when I got here, the house was surrounded with cop cars and yellow tape. Again, Max, I’m so sorry for what happened. This must be hard for you. I know yo-”

“I’m sorry, but I need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Miller,” the detective said. He gestured for Keith to come into the house. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Keith said, stepping into the building. He froze when he stepped into the main room and looked around at the mess. “Oh my,” he said. Max nodded. “Yeah.” There was clearly some struggle -scratch that, a lot of struggle between Alicia and the attacker, he thought. So the attacker clearly wasn’t too large of a person, or she wouldn’t have been able to put up such a fight. Probably no drugs involved, either, for the same reason. Max’s skin crawled imagining the scene. The mysterious intruder wrestling Alicia to the ground, then using something to knock her out.

While Cavendish interrogated Keith, Max walked back to the front door and began to visualize the scene. The intruder came in through the front door, most likely. None of the windows are unlocked, and they’re far too high off the ground to climb up to. He probably found the door unlocked, just as I did, then sneaked in while Alicia was getting ready for the date. Maybe beforehand? It had to have been sometime today. Alicia ate at her mother’s yesterday.

Max walked as he imagined it, taking the same steps that the intruder had taken. They took him into the living room, where the main mess was. He found her somewhere in here, or maybe in an adjacent room, and grabbed her. She fought back, and put up more of a fight than he expected. He would have had to find something to knock her out. He wouldn’t have had enough strength to strangle her if she was able to put up this much of a fight.

Max’s eyes snapped open. “Do we have a weapon yet?” he called. Several of the officers looked up, confused. “Sir? It’s a kidnapping, why would they need a weapon?” one asked.

“He couldn’t have used any drugs, or Alicia wouldn’t have been able to fight in the first place,” Max explained. “And he couldn’t have strangled her, or else she wouldn’t have been able to fight back this much.”

The officers looked at each other, thinking about it, then shook their heads. “No, we haven’t found anything.”

“Do any of you have a blacklight and Luminol on you?”

One of the officers dug through a pocket and produced a small flashlight and a spray bottle with clear liquid in it. “Standard investigation gear.” Max nodded his thanks as he took it and began inspecting the objects in the room. After an object had been sprayed with Luminol, the UV light from the blacklight would make blood - even residual amounts - glow blue. Max sprayed each item individually and inspected them under the blacklight. Many seemed to be viable candidates, but none seemed to have any blood on them. Max frowned. He sprayed the Luminol in an arc over the carpet, then shone the blacklight on it.

A large spot of fluorescent blue appeared in the center of the carpet. Despite the fact that he had seen this sort of thing plenty of times before - usually in much larger quantities - Max had to force himself to not gag. That was Alicia’s blood. He tried to keep himself from imagining the scene, but the images came too rapidly. He couldn’t block them out.

The intruder grabbing Alicia from behind.

The intruder wrestling Alicia to the ground.

Him finding a blunt object, and bringing it crashing down on her head.

Blood pooling on the ground where he struck her. 

Him frantically cleaning the blood off of the carpet, searching for a way to clean the weapon. But where? Where could he-?

The visualization cut off, and Max’s eyes widened. “Has anybody checked in the kitchen yet?”

“Checked in the kitchen for what?” Detective Cavendish asked, walking back into the room. He had evidently finished his interrogation of Keith. He took one look at the carpet and the glowing blue spot, and understanding dawned on his face. 

“Oh,” he said. “Why the kitchen?”

“The sink,” Max said, pushing past the detective. “That’s where they washed it off. We need something heavy, but not deadly. Something that could render someone unconscious easily, but not kill them.”

“What? Why?” Cavendish asked, following Max into the kitchen.

“I’ll explain later,” Max said. He strode to the sink and sprayed the Luminol over the sink, then clicked the blacklight on. After a few moments, he picked something out of the sink and held it up for the rest to see.

“A rolling pin,” Cavendish said, sounding incredulous.

“Yes,” Max said, handing the rolling pin to Keith, who stood nearby. “A rolling pin. It’s the perfect weapon to use: heavy, but not heavy enough to kill. You should be able to find enough fingerprints to identify the culprit from that.”

* * * *

Max rubbed his face in exhaustion. The cold stainless steel of the police station seats seeped through his pants and touched his skin, keeping him awake despite his lack of sleep. The police had taken the rolling pin in as official evidence, and were testing it now.

With its white light and cold, stainless steel seats, the police station felt far too sterile to Max. Even the scent was too clean; it smelled like cleaning chemicals and chlorine.

The door to a restroom opened, and Keith walked in, stretching and drying off his face. He walked over and sat down next to Max. 

“They haven’t come out yet?” Keith said. Max shook his head.

“I don’t know what’s taking so long,” he said. “Every other time I’ve been around when they’ve done it, it’s taken almost no time at all to dust and lift the prints. Something’s wrong.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Eventually, Keith broke it.

“So… how long have you and Alicia been together?”

“Not long,” Max said. “Maybe… a month. Or something? I don’t know. I’m too tired to think. And I’d rather not right now, honestly.”

Keith nodded. “I’m really sorry, Max. This must be hell for you. I just… I can’t imagine that happening to me.”

Max just shook his head and dropped it into his palms. “I don’t know what to think about it, honestly. I feel like I should be more… worried about it. And I am worried for Alicia, don’t get me wrong. But it just feels like… just another job. And that makes me feel like I’m being a bad boyfriend. Or even just a bad person.” Max groaned. “Uugh, I’m talking too much. I should just shut up.”

Keith opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, somebody stepped in front of them. Max looked up to see Cavendish glaring at them over his shades. He stood up quickly.

“Have you gotten the prints yet?” he asked.

Cavendish grimaced. “Not… exactly.”

Keith frowned. “What seems to be the problem?”

Cavendish turned to glare at Keith. “There are too many fingerprints on the rolling pin. They make it too difficult to make out any of the prints.”

Keith looked perplexed for a few seconds, then understanding dawned on his face, just a few seconds after Max connected the dots.

“Keith, were you wearing gloves when I gave you the rolling pin?” he asked.

Keith’s eyes were wide. Before he could answer, Cavendish spoke up. “I can answer that for you: no.”

“So… what do we do?” Keith asked. 

“We solve this the old fashioned way,” Cavendish said. “With no fancy equipment or shiny machines. Just pure observation and conjecture.”

He turned to Max. “And from what I’ve heard, it’ll be a good thing we have you.”

* * * *

Max slid the tape into the cassette player. He looked at Keith, who pursed his lips and nodded. Then Max pressed play.

“Mr. Sterling,” a distorted voice said. He knows my name, Max realized. That means this is likely personal.

The voice on the cassette continued. “If you are listening to this, then likely you have already found that Ms. Morrison is missing. Likely you are already second-guessing everything, wondering who’s fault it was. Wondering who is responsible for this crime.

“Wondering if it’s your own fault.”

Max’s heart skipped a beat. How…? How much does this man know about me?

“Perhaps if you had left The Diner earlier, you would have been able to stop what happened. Perhaps if you hadn’t been so hopeful and stayed so long, you might have seen who did it. But I’m rambling. Allow me to get to the point. Those wonderings, those assumptions that you have - and I know you have them - are, in fact, completely true. If you don’t get anything else out of this experience, know this: this is all your fault.”

* * * *

“So, where to first?” Keith asked as he climbed into Max’s car. Max shook his head. 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. His mind was still reeling from the recording. How could he have known about all of that? It’s impossible.

“Well, who would be the most likely to have a reason to kidnap her?” Keith asked.

“The obvious choice would be somebody close to her, with some reason to bring me pain. That much is obvious from the recording.”

Keith thought for a moment. “Well, who’s on that list?”

“Well, first on the list is anyone in her direct family. Though I can’t imagine Mrs. Morrison doing this. Besides, she likes me fine. Same goes for her sisters, and most of them are out of town at the moment. Except for Amber, but we get along just fine.” Max fell silent, thinking. Who would do this?

“Well, what about her work?” Keith said. “Would anybody there have any reason to do this?”

Max froze. Then, slowly, a smile crept along his face. “Keith, you are brilliant,” he said, turning the key to the car. “Absolutely brilliant.”

Keith smiled back as he fastened his seatbelt. “I try to be.”

* * * *

“The Office building?” Keith asked, looking up at the building as they stepped out of the car. “Alicia worked here? I didn’t think she had that sort of patience.”

“She doesn’t,” Max said, walking around the car. “She worked as a receptionist for a paper company on the third floor. Come on.” The two went into the building and walked straight to the elevator. Max pressed the button for the third floor, and the doors closed. Soft music started playing, and Max frowned. That’s wrong, he thought. Too cheery. And why does it smell like menthol in here?

The elevator dinged, and the two of them stepped out. They passed a receptionist desk that was conspicuously empty, then entered the office. A dozen people were working at desks, either writing something on the computer or talking to somebody on the phone. All eyes turned to them as they entered.

“We’re with the police,” Max said, holding up a badge that Cavendish had given him. “Who’s the boss here?”

One man who was standing by a water dispenser raised his hand hesitantly. Max gestured to a side room. “Can I speak to you in private?”

The man, who was wiry in build and rather mouse-like, nodded timidly, and entered the side room - a conference room, by the looks of it. When the boss had closed the door behind him, he turned to Keith and Max, a perplexed expression on his rodent-like face.

“What’s going on here?” he said.

Timid, Max thought. Too timid to become the boss of anything. Probably a nepo-baby. And that beard looks horrible on him. I can’t imagine anyone here has any respect for him.

Out loud, he said, “Are you familiar with Alicia Morrison?”

The man nodded. “The receptionist? Yes, of course I know her. I make it a point to get to know my employees. And if you see her, could you tell her to come in? She’s late for work.”

“Sir, Alicia was found missing yesterday,” Keith said. “Her house was trashed and there were obvious signs of struggle.”

The other man looked shocked, and his mouth moved, opening and closing in disbelief. He looks like a fish. 

“I… I just… Are you sure? There couldn’t have been any mix-up?” he said. Max shook his head. “No, sir. I’m sure. I was there and saw the scene myself. She’s either been kidnapped or…”

He couldn’t make himself say the other possibility.

“We’re trying to figure out what happened to Alicia. Is there anybody in this office who might have had a reason to wish her harm?” Max asked. “A grudge of some sort? Someone she embarrassed?”

The man shook his head. “No, no. I don’t-” He froze, as if he had just had an idea. “Wait, no. There is one. Bayley Montgomery. I heard her and Alicia arguing about something the other day, after work. It sounded serious, but I didn’t want to get myself involved in that drama, so I ignored it.”

“Could you point out who Bayley is?” Max asked. The man nodded and pointed through the windows of the conference room at a dark-skinned woman who had a phone to her ear, though she wasn’t talking into it. Max nodded his thanks. “You’re free to go for now. If we have any more questions, we’ll call you in.” He opened the door, letting the man out, then turned to face the rest of the workers. They had all been watching closely, but now they hurriedly returned to doing - or at least pretending to do - their work. Max gestured to the woman that the boss had pointed out. She stiffened.

“Could you come in here, please,” he said. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded and stood up stiffly, walking towards them. Max shut the door behind her, and they sat across from each other at a large, oval table - Keith and Max on one side, her on the other.

“You are Bayley Montgomery?” Max asked. Bayley nodded. 

“What’s this about?” she asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Do you know Alicia Morrison?” Keith said.

Bayley nodded. “Everybody knew Alicia. We had to pass her every day, after all. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Alicia has gone missing,” Keith said. “We’re trying to find her. Do you know anything about that?”

Bayley’s jaw dropped, and her eyes widened. “Wh… what? Alicia’s missing? But… how?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Ms. Montgomery,” Max said. “Your boss says that he heard the two of you fighting a few days back. Do you remember that?”

The woman’s face scrunched up in concentration as she tried to remember. “Fight…? No, I don’t remember a fight. At least, not a real one. Two days ago, she spilled some water on my new dress, and I may have shouted a bit. It had been a long day. I’m sure you understand.”

Max shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t. So, you and Alicia never had any sort of bad blood?”

Bayley shook her head. “No. Though, to be honest, I don’t think anybody in the office did. They either liked her or didn't care enough to hate her.”

Max shared a glance with Keith and sighed. Then he turned back to Montgomery. “Miss, do you know of anybody else who might have a reason to wish Alicia or anyone close to her harm?”

She thought for a moment more. “No… Well, I suppose Clarence might have. He always made it clear that he was interested in her, and recently, she rejected his advances. Told him she was already in a relationship. That might give him a good enough reason.”

Ah. Clarence. Alicia told me about him. “Could you point him out for us?”

She looked surprised. “Clarence Walker. He’s the boss of this division. You were just talking to him.”

* * * *

“So, Mr. Walker,” Cavendish said as he took the seat across from Clarence. Max and Keith watched him from the other side of a one-way mirror. Max squinted at the man. 

It couldn’t have been him. He’s too timid. Too scared to do anything that drastic.

Still, he was their best lead, and Max would follow it until it ran out. It never paid to ignore a lead, no matter how unlikely it may seem.

“Why am I here?” Clarence asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’ll determine that, if you don’t mind,” Cavendish said. He threw a file on the table. “Do you recognize who that is?”

Clarence opened the file. Inside there was a photo of Alicia. “Yes, I know her. I already told that to your detectives. She’s an employee of mine, and I make it my business to get to know all of my employees.”

Cavendish raised an eyebrow and looked at Clarence over his shades. “But you paid a bit more attention to Ms. Morrison, didn’t you?”

Clarence flushed red. “Okay, I may have been interested in Alicia romantically, and maybe it was a bit obvious. But I swear, I never would have done anything like… this.”

“Mr. Walker, the more you deny this, the more I’m going to believe you did it.”

Clarence’s mouth snapped shut. Cavendish nodded.

“Now, if we can continue.” He threw another photo onto the table. “Do these plates look familiar to you?”

Clarence picked up the photo - one of a car - and inspected it. “Well, yes, that’s my car. But what does that have to do-?”

“That car was caught by traffic cameras yesterday, going the same route that Ms. Morrison used to get home,” Cavendish explained. “In fact, if you look closely, you can even see her car at the bottom of the photo, in front of your own.”

Max narrowed his eyes at Clarence, trying to judge his reaction. Come on, Walker. What have you got to say to that?

“What do you expect me to say?” Clarence said. “We take the same route home. I pass by her neighborhood. So what? That means I kidnapped her?”

“Again, Mr. Walker, I’ll be the one deciding that. Now, I’m going to ask you a few question-”

“I won’t say anything without my lawyer present,” Clarence said, cutting Cavendish off.

Max groaned. We’ll never get anything out of him now. Inside the room, Cavendish pursed his lips and nodded. He gathered his things off of the table and left the room.

* * * *

Max ran his hand through his hair. He was exhausted. The whole night, he had been poring over the facts of the case, trying to find some connection. He had been right about Clarence. After the man’s lawyer had come, Cavendish didn’t get another word of use out of either of them. Since they didn’t have any concrete evidence on the man, they were forced to let him go.

Max turned back to the papers in front of him. They were photographs of the items they had taken in with evidence. He sifted through them, as he had done dozens of times before, trying to find the answer. It was at the point of the case where every bit of evidence was right in front of his eyes. It was just a matter of connecting the pieces to form the full picture.

He picked up a picture - it was of the rolling pin that the attacker had used to render Alicia unconscious. Max didn’t typically get nauseous simply thinking about things, but thinking about that scene certainly did.

“Have you made any progress yet?” came a voice. Max looked up to see Cavendish taking a seat across from him, wearing his characteristic shades.

“Not much,” Max said, groaning and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I can see all of the pieces, I just don’t know how they all fit together.”

Cavendish nodded supportively, but Max could tell what he was really thinking. You broke into my investigation claiming you could do a better job than I could, his posture seemed to say. And now you can’t even figure it out. ‘Great detective.’ Yeah right.

Cavendish stood up, and Max braced himself for the scorn that was to come. But Cavendish just put his hand on Max’s shoulder and nodded. “You’ll find it eventually. Just… try to do it quickly. For Ms. Morrison’s sake… and your own.”

Cavendish walked off, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty police station, leaving Max shocked. He had thought Cavendish hated him, but maybe… Maybe he had been wrong. 

Wouldn’t be the first time, he thought to himself. Then he turned back to his papers, and the puzzle of the case.

I should know this, he thought. Everything’s here, but I’m missing something. Glossing over something important. But what is it?

With an exasperated sigh, he sat back, throwing the papers back onto the table. They weren’t helping him. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize the day he had found Alicia gone.

It was nighttime, he remembered. I was driving to her house to check on her. Another car was driving out of the neighborhood. I went to the front door and knocked, but nobody answered. I knocked again, but still no answer. Then I tried the door, and it-

Max froze. His eyes shot open. The door.

The door hadn’t been forced. Alicia always kept her doors locked, which could only mean one thing.

She had let her kidnapper in.

Which meant she knew them, and probably trusted them.

* * * *

“Max, you know I wouldn’t do anything like this,” Amber said from across the table. Max had convinced Cavendish to let him do the interrogations for Alicia’s family members. He knew them better, so he would know if something was off with them. So far, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“We don’t know who did what, Amber,” Max said. “All we know is that your sister is missing and that it was someone she trusted. Can you tell me again what you were doing that night?”

Amber shook her head. “I honestly can’t remember. Probably eating by myself and watching TV. But I never would have done anything like that. You know that.”

Max nodded. She was right, of course. Alicia had been the fiery Morrison sister, and still she was calm and collected most of the time. Amber was a shy girl - the one that had stayed at the back of every class in school. She wouldn’t - and probably couldn’t - have done it. Besides, all the evidence pointed to the attacker being male.

Max left the room, rubbing his temple. Keith met him outside. 

“No luck?” he asked.

Max shook his head. “It wasn’t her,” he said. “I knew that beforehand, but I just needed to make sure. We're back to the drawing board.”

The two made their way over to a table that was set up in the foyer. “Maybe it’s something that we haven’t thought of yet,” Keith said. “What if whoever did it wasn’t someone who she trusted, but just someone who was walking by? Like… a door-to-door salesman, or something.”

Max shook his head, sighing.

“Whatever,” Keith said. “I’ll let you do the thinking. I’m just rambling.”

“That is what you tend to d-” Max cut off. Where had he heard that before?

I’m just rambling. That sounds famili-

The tape. The cassette tape they had found at the scene. The distorted voice had said something about rambling. 

“But I’m just rambling.”

Max’s blood seemed to grow cold. It couldn’t be true, could it? It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t.

But all of the evidence pointed to it. A male, but not one too muscular, who Alicia trusted enough to let her into her house. Someone who could have surprised her enough to get the jump on her, then knocked her out with the rolling pin - which he knew the location of. He’s been over there enough times to know where she keeps her kitchen things.

“Max?” Keith said in a worried tone. “You okay?”

Max looked slowly up to him. “Where is she?” His voice was hoarse. 

Keith laughed nervously. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Where is she?” Max repeated. “Where is Alicia?”

“Max, I don’t kn-”

Max leaped across the table, grabbing Keith by his collar and pulling him close.

“Where is she?!” he shouted. “Tell me where she is, Keith, or I swear, I will break every bone in your body one by one!”

Keith stared at him, eyes wide and frightened as Max shook him. “Max, calm down. You’re not yours-”

Max punched him. He hadn’t punched a lot of people in his life. He couldn’t even remember when he’d last punched another human being. But this punch… this punch felt good.

“Sterling! What are you doing!” came another voice. Max looked to his left to see Cavendish walking towards him, one hand up, while his other hand reached towards his belt, where a gun was strapped. Max looked to Keith, then back to Cavendish. He let go of Keith’s collar, dropping him, and stepped away.

“Arrest this man, officer,” he said, his rage dissipated. Now he just felt tired. “Arrest him for the kidnapping of one Alicia Morrison.”

* * * *

The police didn’t let Max interrogate Keith. They were worried that he might attack him again. So Max stood behind the one way glass, looking on as Cavendish asked Keith questions. Max didn’t hear most of them. He was too busy thinking to himself.

Why, Keith? Why did you do it? I thought we were friends.

In the cell, Cavendish wasn’t having much luck with Keith. He refused to answer any questions, though he still hadn’t asked for his lawyer.

“I’m going to need you to answer my questions, Mr. Miller,” Cavendish said.

“Send in Max,” Keith said, finally speaking up.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Cavendish said. “I’m sure you-”

“Send in Max, or you won’t get another word out of me.” Keith sat up a little straighter, staring Cavendish in the eyes. The two sat, deadlocked, for a few seconds, before Cavendish finally looked away, glancing to the one-way window and nodding. Max pursed his lips and went to the door, where Cavendish waited for him.

“Don’t do anything crazy, Sterling,” he said. Max nodded, and pushed past him into the room. Cavendish shut the door behind him, closing it with an ominous thud.

“Why did you want me in here?” Max said, still standing.

“What, I can’t talk to my friend?” Keith said, opening his hands palm up. They were chained to the table by a pair of handcuffs. He gestured to the seat across from him. “Please, sit down.”

“I’d rather not,” Max replied dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. After a few moments of silence, he said, “Why did you do it, Keith?”

“Do what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith said, his face the picture of mock innocence.

“Keith, don’t play with me,” Max growled. “Why did you do it?”

Keith grew quiet and stared at his hands. Silence filled the room. It made Max tense up, as if any second, something would happen. Finally, Keith spoke up.

“You should already know why I did it, Max,” he said. “You are the detective after all - the one who connects the pieces into one big puzzle. And I’ve already given you all of the pieces. All that’s left is for you to connect them.”

Max’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

“The cassette, Max.”

Suddenly, Max remembered. The final words of the recording came to his mind. 

“This is all your fault.”

“My fault…?” Max said. “But how? How could you possibly blame this on me?”

“Do you remember when we were younger, Max?” Keith asked. The sudden change in subject shocked Max, but he nodded. Keith continued. “We were the best of friends. Tighter than anything. Me and you against the world.”

“Just answer the questions, Keith.”

“We would do everything together, Max,” Keith said, ignoring Max. “Everything.

“And then Alicia came, and you started talking to her. And then, suddenly, she became our friend, not just yours. Then it wasn’t just the two of us. She was always there, too, tagging along, as if she’d always been there. We talked less in those days. It was always Alicia this, Alicia that. I knew what was happening, but it didn’t appear as if you did. The two of you grew closer and closer, and you and I grew farther and farther apart. That’s why I chose to go to university, rather than stay in town. I couldn’t stand it. Then you started dating, and it was even worse. I felt like I had been betrayed by both of you - but you most of all. So I found a way to hurt you both.

“Take Alicia away.”

“The car,” Max said. “That night, a car was driving away from Alicia’s house. That was you.”

Keith nodded. Max wanted to punch him again, but he held himself back. He couldn’t afford that right now. So he spoke, not looking at Keith. “You went to her house just before she was about to leave. You knew she would let you in. She trusted you, so you didn’t see the need to break in. Once you were inside the house… well, it was only a matter of wrestling her to the ground and knocking her out.” Max closed his eyes, forcing the images that flooded his mind away. A soft chuckle escaped Keith’s lips, and Max’s stomach churned.

“But she bled too much when you hit her with the rolling pin. You had to clean it up, which is why you were so late leaving. But you forgot one thing: your fingerprints. You were already far away before you realized, but you had to make sure the police didn’t find them. When you got there, you found police cars surrounding the place. You went in. After I found the rolling pin, you made sure to place yourself right next to me, so I would hand it to you. Then you covered it with your own fingerprints - once everybody already assumed you were innocent - so that they couldn’t decipher it. Then you feigned assisting me, to reduce my suspicion. And it almost worked.”

“Almost,” Keith agreed. “You were always far too good at this, Max. Too good at connecting the pieces that others wouldn’t even see.”

“But that still leaves the question,” Max continued. “Where did you leave Alicia?”

Keith grinned. Max glared at him. Keith was working his jaw furiously, around, around, around.

What is he doi-

Max’s eyes widened, and he jumped for Keith, trying to grab his face. But it was too late. An audible crack sounded as Keith bit down.

“Where is she, Keith?!” Max shouted, shaking the man. Keith grinned. He began foaming at the mouth. A cyanide pill, hidden in his cheek beforehand.

Max shook Keith furiously. “Where is she?! Where is Alicia?!” The door to the interrogation room flew open and Cavendish charged in. “What is going on here?!” he yelled.

“He took a cyanide pill!” Max answered, still shaking Keith. “Where did you leave her?!”

Keith’s mouth moved, sputtering. “Stop shaking him, Sterling!” Cavendish shouted. “He’s trying to speak!”

Max stopped, but still held Keith by his shirt collar. The other man was trying to say something, but it wasn't coming out very fast.

“P-p-p…” he sputtered.

“What?! What are you saying?”

“P-p-p… p-parents,” Keith whispered, sending foam flying into the air. Then he seemed to slump in Max’s hands. Max let go, and Keith’s body fell forward onto the table. He didn’t move again. Max prodded him.

“Leave him be, Sterling,” Cavendish said. “He’s dead.”

* * * *

Cavendish looked to Max, who nodded. The detective nodded back, then knocked on the door. Several moments later, the door cracked open, revealing an elderly gentleman dressed in a plaid dress shirt. 

Mr. Miller. Keith’s father.

He looked confused as he opened the door. “I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked, looking at Cavendish. Cavendish flashed a police badge. 

“We’re with the police, sir. We’d like to talk to you about your son, Keith.”

* * * *

Max wandered the house as Cavendish spoke to Mr. and Mrs. Miller. Memories, once warm, but now painful, filled his mind. Memories of him and Keith playing inside these very walls. He remembered them playing detectives in the backyard, acting like the famous detectives that they knew everything about. Max had always played Sherlock, while Keith was the trusty Watson.

Once, he had remembered those times with fondness. Now left him feeling as if a hole were inside his chest.

“Do you have any idea where he could have hidden Ms. Morrison?” Cavendish asked behind him. Both of Keith’s parents hadn’t a clue. Max let out a sigh of exhaustion as he stared out the window to the backyard. He had thought for sure…

Something caught his eye. Near the back of the yard stood a shed. It wasn’t a large shed - just enough to fit a mower that Mr. Miller would bring out every so often when the grass was too long. It was empty now, though. The mower sat next to it, rusted and broken down. Keith would always try to fix it whenever he came back to New Pine, but he had never had any luck.

The shed, too, triggered memories for Max. He remembered playing hide and seek with Keith. Keith would always hide in the shed, and Mrs. Miller would always shout at him for doing so.

Wait… The shed.

“Cavendish,” Max called. Cavendish stood and turned, walking to Max. “What is it, Sterling?”

Max just pointed to the shed. Understanding dawned on Cavendish’s face. He turned to Mr. and Mrs. Miller. “Excuse us, please. Would you mind if we took a look in your shed?”

Max was out the back door before he got confirmation, running to the shed. He grabbed the handles and shook them, but the doors wouldn’t budge. A lock and chain were wrapped around them. Inside, Max heard muffled shouts for help.

Alicia.

“Hold on, Alicia!” he shouted, frantically searching for something to break the lock. “We’re going to get you out of there!”

Cavendish slid to a stop next to him, took one glance at the lock, and gestured for Max to move. “Out of the way,” he said, pulling out his pistol. Max did so and covered his ears. Cavendish pulled the trigger, and the lock flew off of the chain. Max grabbed the handles and yanked, throwing the doors open, revealing Alicia on the floor, gagged and tied up. Two bowls sat in front of her - one filled with food and the other with water. 

Max rushed to her, wrapping her in a hug. She seemed to melt in his embrace, tears running down her face. It took Max a moment to realize that he was crying, too.

He pulled away and untied Alicia’s gag, while Cavendish got the rope tying her hands. She threw her arms around Max as soon as they were free, crying into his shoulder. He grabbed her, and wrapped her up in a tight hug. They were both still crying.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Max murmured. “You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Yall might have noticed the 2 at the end of 'Maxwell Sterling'. Well, fun fact, this is actually the second story in a series of short stories/novellas I plan on writing some day in the distant future. I've tried writing the first one before, but the pieces never clicked, so I wrote this one first instead. Just a nugget of trivia.

Edited March 5 by CuratorOTL
Italicized thoughts

[Insaineack]

issue one!

the cassette player and the tape came out of nowhere, there was no explanation of how it was found!

predictions before finding out - Bayley had serious argument, but nothing more. "the diner" as they call it, only mentioned one other person's presence, and that was the waitress. as far as the information is provided, we can only assume he's alone in that diner in the time that the scene is taking place. but also, the "Date" could have been fabricated over text as a means of trying to bait him over there, this would mean that the date had been scheduled same day, in the case that she was kidnapped long before the date even took place. this would contradict the tape that they heard the message from the anonymous criminal who stated that they where there, but it would make sense if they set it up themselves instead of be there acting a distraction as it would seem to be on the surface.

*
Reads further -
okay, we have a second interrogation with the manager over Ms.Morrison, it ends, but then it jumps to the next scene without telling us where this next scene, how we got there, we kind of have an idea why he's there, but the jump felt very subtle and bumped me.

after the family interrogation, I'm starting to think that the twist that I see coming is that she has faked her own kidnapping so that she can be with some new secret lover. 
also, we have had 4 interrogation scenes now with little result, not much has happened to progress the plot but that one thing that keeps happening over and over, and its starting to feel a little stale. 

Reads further more- done

so the twist explained the first perceived flaw in your writing. that was an excellent short story. though the female character at the end was just the end goal, instead of an actual character. this is hard because its like, well, that was the end of the story, yay, we found her, the end! she didn't help us find her with who she was though. 

his friend "Keith" felt abandoned. I've seen that before, both in fiction and in my own experiences IRL. 
however, "Feeling married to his work" also came up in the story.
Keith felt abandoned
but Max Felt married to work

But neither of these felt like a thematical choice that resonated around the story in a connected way. though they where two perspectives that could have connected together, where the winning perspective could have been, "Feeling married to his work may cause harm for some, but it benefits those who, - would hurt if he was not busy in this way." 

the good?
I liked that you used his mental observations of the information that you had already provided. I was trying to do the same thing as an audience member, but you still managed to twist my ability to predict where you where trying to go with this.

 

now you did call the story 
"All your fault"

and you almost made Keith bring that extra bit of compelling theme to the table. but the character only challenged the protagonist with his skills while recognizing them, and only challenged him morally with his last dialog, that also felt like a monolog, that Max did try to stop mind you, but you wanted that character to let it all out in one go damn it!
so instead of challenging the character's life choices and career path, he just says, "you hurt me!" and then dies. he did have the potential to bring more dialog conversation, but it ended up being a villain monolog instead.

how could you have done this better?
I have picked out themes that you kinda played with, probably without knowing that, that's where you where going. you had a good idea for a theme or two, but then didn't see the strength that you could have expanded on further. as well as wrapped the whole story around it.

but wait! you did have a theme that you where trying to use.
Keith made Max feel like it was his fault, and pointed that out in the tape. "I bet you wish you where here to stop it"
however... this goes into a theme perspective that I did present, Keith made Max feel as though he had abandoned Alicia! *gasp

that is all... Good day capp

[CuratorOTL IG]

1 hour ago, Insaineack said:

issue one!

the cassette player and the tape came out of nowhere, there was no explanation of how it was found!

predictions before finding out - Bayley had serious argument, but nothing more. "the diner" as they call it, only mentioned one other person's presence, and that was the waitress. as far as the information is provided, we can only assume he's alone in that diner in the time that the scene is taking place. but also, the "Date" could have been fabricated over text as a means of trying to bait him over there, this would mean that the date had been scheduled same day, in the case that she was kidnapped long before the date even took place. this would contradict the tape that they heard the message from the anonymous criminal who stated that they where there, but it would make sense if they set it up themselves instead of be there acting a distraction as it would seem to be on the surface.

*
Reads further -
okay, we have a second interrogation with the manager over Ms.Morrison, it ends, but then it jumps to the next scene without telling us where this next scene, how we got there, we kind of have an idea why he's there, but the jump felt very subtle and bumped me.

after the family interrogation, I'm starting to think that the twist that I see coming is that she has faked her own kidnapping so that she can be with some new secret lover. 
also, we have had 4 interrogation scenes now with little result, not much has happened to progress the plot but that one thing that keeps happening over and over, and its starting to feel a little stale. 

Reads further more- done

so the twist explained the first perceived flaw in your writing. that was an excellent short story. though the female character at the end was just the end goal, instead of an actual character. this is hard because its like, well, that was the end of the story, yay, we found her, the end! she didn't help us find her with who she was though. 

his friend "Keith" felt abandoned. I've seen that before, both in fiction and in my own experiences IRL. 
however, "Feeling married to his work" also came up in the story.
Keith felt abandoned
but Max Felt married to work

But neither of these felt like a thematical choice that resonated around the story in a connected way. though they where two perspectives that could have connected together, where the winning perspective could have been, "Feeling married to his work may cause harm for some, but it benefits those who, - would hurt if he was not busy in this way." 

the good?
I liked that you used his mental observations of the information that you had already provided. I was trying to do the same thing as an audience member, but you still managed to twist my ability to predict where you where trying to go with this.

 

now you did call the story 
"All your fault"

and you almost made Keith bring that extra bit of compelling theme to the table. but the character only challenged the protagonist with his skills while recognizing them, and only challenged him morally with his last dialog, that also felt like a monolog, that Max did try to stop mind you, but you wanted that character to let it all out in one go damn it!
so instead of challenging the character's life choices and career path, he just says, "you hurt me!" and then dies. he did have the potential to bring more dialog conversation, but it ended up being a villain monolog instead.

how could you have done this better?
I have picked out themes that you kinda played with, probably without knowing that, that's where you where going. you had a good idea for a theme or two, but then didn't see the strength that you could have expanded on further. as well as wrapped the whole story around it.

but wait! you did have a theme that you where trying to use.
Keith made Max feel like it was his fault, and pointed that out in the tape. "I bet you wish you where here to stop it"
however... this goes into a theme perspective that I did present, Keith made Max feel as though he had abandoned Alicia! *gasp

that is all... Good day capp

Thanks for the feedback. It was all really good, and I 100% agree with it. I didn't have much time to really play with themes(which I normally don't really do anyways), and I did end up having to be pretty abrupt for timeliness' sake. Maybe if I ever get around to do revisions on this, I'll incorporate your advice.