Right... I promised by 9:00 AG time, but I was tricked into moving furniture before promptly being forced to watch The cinematic adaption of Jane Austen's Emma. But, here it is, Punctual or not. This one's rather short.
The Blackout Murder: Part 5 In Which Our Hero Finds out What He is Up Against
After he had completed his questioning of Mr. Shulz, Gerard hecked out who the next neighbour was.
"A Miss 'Charlene R. Azy. Diagonosed with Schizophrenia' Fantastic. This will be wonderful." He strolled, full of dread, to the neighbour behind the late Mason Chandler's house.
As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with Ellie Chandler, whom he suspected of murdering her husband. He didn't want to be blunt about it, but Gerard thought this could be an excellent oppurtunity to confront her about the whole ordeal.
"Hello, Ellie. What are you doing out so late?"
"I was at the store." She shuffled off very quikly. She seemed to be in a great hurry.
"You don't have any bag with you."
She spun around on her heels. "It was the wrong store."
"Oh. The wrong store. I understand." He found her story very dubious. "Wait, stop. How are you?" It was obvious he was trying to stall her to a point where he could ask her something.
"Very upset that my husband passed away, now if you'll excuse me, I need to go home!"
"You don't seem upset. Most wives I know would cry for a few days if their soulmate's life ended so abruptly. Unless, oh, I don't know, it wasn't abrupt, but, rather, planned."
"What are you implying?"
"Nothing. It was just really strange how Mason died. It seems pretty hard to believe. Perhaps it wasn't an accident. Maybe it was murder."
Ellie took a step back, before leaning forward and jabbing her finger into Gerard's broad chest. "You think I killed him? Are you certifiably insane?"
"I never said I thought you killed him, but by the way you're defending yourself, I'd have to think you did." He had her right where he wanted her. "You went to the mal that day and made several purchases using your credit card, to make sure it was 'impossible' for you to have come home and killed him in the timeframe. Next, you found a way to make the elecricity in the neighbourhood flicker on and off at certain intervals of time. Maybe you had some kind of remote, who's to say? Whatever the case, you found a way to get to your house and kill your husband, all while getting back to the mall by 7:57."
Ellie scowled and looked at her feet, but that scowl quickly curved into a hideously evil smirk. She looked into his eyes, and he could see the fire in her irises, surrounding the coal-like pits that were her pupils. "Hmhm. Ok. You have a very well-thought outscenario, there. But that's impossible. Even if it were true that I killed him, it's impossible to get to the mall and back from my house in under twenty minutes. How do you explain that? Besides. where is your substantial evidence? The case would be nothing if you didn't have some kind of physical evidence."
She had him. Gerard had nothing on her. "I know you did it... I just don't know how or why."
"Then you don't know I did it," she hissed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go mourn my lost husband." As she left, he could swear he heard her say "Asshole" under her breath. But she was right. No evidence, no case. He would just have to do some more investigating.
"All I have left to do is question a street-rat crazy woman. Wonderful." He continued his late night stroll. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phew. Done. Please excuse any errors. I did this right here in the textbox, so no spellcheck.
I lied, guize, bt to keep ya'll busy, I've decided to try my hand at poetry, simply because I never have before...
*Is like my firstest poem evar*
I saw it, It called me, I took it. For my own sake I took it.
It gleamed, It glimmered, It shone. All the time, it shone. And now, I hear it, It whispers. The thing haunts me with its whispers
It tells me, Day and night, I've done wrong. I knew it, I've done wrong! This evil, It eats me, Destroys me. My horrid deed destroys me! I broke down, And lost it, Then confessed. I told them, I confessed.
Now I rot, All alone, In my hell. Prison, it is hell.
A poem about thievery, I guess... I know it's not good, so Constructive criticism is very welcomed.
But I'm gonna stick to music & short stories for the most part...
I've never heard/seen you write a single piece of music in your life! but if you have and you've been keeping it from me, please put it up here!(if you can) I'm curious to see what you come up with.
um...part5....part5... it's good...good...not as good as you part 4 and 3...but it was good.
I think part 6 will be my favorite(and not just because i helped give uyou an idea for it!)
Ah, yes, where you keep your holographic meatloaf, right?
Enough of my epic procrastination, part 6 is finally finished.
Enjoy: ____________________________________________________________________________ The Blackout Murder: Part 6 In Which our Hero Learns the True Meaning of "Insane"
Miss Azy heard a knocking at her door. "Oh, God, they're everywhere!!" She grabbed a large wooden spoon and opened the door. "Leave me alone! What do you want with me," exclaimed the unstable woman. She pulled the spoon over her head in preparation to strike. Gerard was well aware of the possibility that he would be attacked again, and was already prepared to shield the blow with a trashcan lid. And that he did, as the spoon came crashing down. A "Clang!" rang out through that entire side of the neighborhood, and Detective Spencer could see stirring through some of the windows. "Ma'am! I'm only here to ask you some questions." Charlene looked about ready to throw one of her cats at Gerard, as she was reaching out for the nearest one to her. She scooped it up and cradled it in her arms, but the concave bowl of the spoon covered the panicked feline's eyes. "Q-questions?! What kind of questions?! I didn't murder him!" That feeling of dread in Gerard from earlier welled up even more, to a point of near-fear for his well-being. "I'm not accusing you of that, Miss Azy. I just want to know what YOU know about this entire tragic ordeal." Charlene scanned him over once or twice. "As long as you leave THAT out on the doorstep." She gestured towards his hat. "My...my hat? What's wrong with it?" "Everyone knows that hats have tracking devices in them! They'll find me if you wear that inside," She hissed. Gerard began to doubt if it was even worth questioning this woman. "Right..." He left his hat on the porch swing. The fluorescent green porch swing that was covered in ceramic unicorns. "This isn't happening," he muttered. *** "Were you home when the murd- Accident took place?" "Of course." She was smiling perkily, now, which confused Gerard to some extent. "And did you notice anything out of the ordinary?" "Well, the voices seemed a tad upset." "Oh, right... Excuse me, the voices?" "Of course! The voices that tell me secrets and jokes and all that kind of stuff." She was still smiling, but she continued. "What, you don't believe me? You think I'm insane?!" Her personality made a total 180 while she was talking. Gerard was deeply tempted to say "yes" to Charlene's question, but he restrained himself from doing so for his own health and sanity. "No, not at all. Tell me, what do you mean by 'upset?'" "They were very agitated, like something was happening. Abbie was yelling angrily and Ted seemed terrified." At that very moment, an idea struck the detective, but he needed to confirm it. "And...where were you at the time?" "I was out back, watering my spice garden." Gerard glanced outside, only to notice the woman's backyard was nearly barren of life. But that didn't matter. What did matter was that she was outside. "So let me get this straight; you were outside at the time of the accident?" "I already said that!" It was clear that the woman was becoming very agitated herself, but her face went blank and she bent over to untie and retie her shoelace. "Is that all that you noticed that night?" "Yes." Smiling again...what a bizarre woman. "Thank you very much." He offered his hand in gratitude, but she merely stared at it and walked away. "NOTE TO SELF: NEVER GET SCHIZOPHRENIA," he thought to himself as he exited the house. ________________________________________________________________________
