Falling Stars
The night was extremely cold and frigid. It was another chilling start to springtime and flowers had begun to bloom again. The moonlight reflected on their petals, giving off a luminescent glow that was almost enchanting. A powerful breeze brushed against the flowers and hedges leading up to a colossal estate. It was one of the richest homes in the entire city. Situated far from the bustling and restless cityscape, the estate exuberated feelings of peacefulness and solitude. The four-story manorhouse was completely blacked out, its residents fast asleep...or so it seemed.
Glass shattered on one of the lower levels. A whimpering cry rang out. Thumping echoed up the stairs, followed by a clamor and second shattering of glass. A light switched on in the second floor window. The ruckus continued upstairs. A pistol cocked before the shrill of two gunshots.
BANG!...BANG!All went eerily silent until a pair of footsteps ran upstairs. A wrenching scream was loosed. "MOMMAAAAA! POPPAAAAAAAA!" A young woman's heartbroken cries screeched throughout the night.
Two ice cubes plopped into a glass of water. This pair was soon accompanied by a hailstorm of ice cubes. There were so many, that the glass began to overflow. A young man picked up the glass and sipped from it. He shook himself awake from the coldness and huffed. He was a blonde with exceptional muscle tone. This was attributed to all of the farm work he endured as a child. He was dressed in a grey suit with a white shirt underneath. His black belt and shoes were shined and polished. A dark, forest green tie was loosely wrapped around his neck.
A german shepherd rested at his feet, licking up one of the ice cubes he'd dropped during the beverage bombardment. The office door swung open, as a short and pudgy man came in. He was clean-shaven with a slight overbite protruding from his lips. A straw hat rested atop of his head, and he wore white suit with a brown undershirt. He straightened his tiny orange bowtie and said, "Kristoff...Kristoff..."
The blonde man shook off his daydreaming, sipped his icy water, and turned. "What is it, Olaf?"
"The chief needs us. It's ugly."
Kristoff raised both brows as he rose to his feet. He motioned for his canine companion to stay and followed Olaf down the hall. The duo filed in with a group of officers and detectives. "It was only a matter of time before someone smoked them," scowled a policeman. "You can't expect to flaunt that kind of wealth and not pay the price."
"Have some respect for the dead," jeered another officer.
Kristoff and Olaf passed the men and entered through doors reading: Chief Kai
Chief Kai was a stockier man with thinning auburn hair. "Well boys, this just may be the biggest hit this city has taken. Loved by many...hated by few...the pride of Arentropolis, has been murdered."
Kristoff tensed up, "No."
"I'm afraid so. Double homicide. The victims leave behind two beautiful daughters."
"That's awful," grieved Olaf.
"But such is life," sighed the chief. "All we can do know is see justice brought down upon the murderer."
"Or murderers," thought Kristoff.
"Indeed. I want you two to head over to the crime scene and salvage what you can. Try to get as much information as possible from the daughters before they break down. You're lucky if they haven't already."
"Yes sir," said Kristoff.
"Yes sir," repeated Olaf.
Kai nodded, "Dismissed."
Kristoff returned to his office and plucked a grey fedora from its hook. He put it on, tugged at the brim, and whistled, "Sven! Come on, boy!" His german shepherd came barking down the hall to join them. The three then headed to the streets and into a blue, Hudson Commodore police car. Kristoff started it up just as the radio crackled with a female's voice. "This is dispatch."
"This is Detective Bjorgman. Go ahead, dispatch." responded Kristoff.
"News reporters woke up bright and early. They're swarming the estate so you'd best hurry before we lose control of them."
"Don't worry," said Kristoff. "We like to go fast." He turned on the siren and floored the gas pedal.