The detective stepped into the shabby apartment and looked around. There wasn't really much to see. A few pieces of thrift store furniture here, a television that looked to be about ten years old there. The futon that sat in the middle of the room was flipped over and the carpet was blood stained. The young man who had rented this apartment, Alfred Franklin Jones, had been missing, probably dead, for at least four days. The detective was called when the landlord came looking for rent and found the apartment in its current state of disarray. The man's wallet, which seemed to be lacking in the funds department, and cell phone were lying on the counter. When the detective looked through the phone, he found 42 missed calls from a number saved as "Iggy." The detective decided that "Iggy" was either an angry lover or someone else who would be equally concerned by Mr. Jones not answering.
The restaurant the detective was standing in front of was on the small side and, obviously, not Gordon Ramsay material. The building had clearly seen better days. A flickering neon sign read "The Restaurant at the End of the Universe", even though the capital "E" was barely hanging on. This was the place that "Iggy", legal name Arthur Kirkland, worked. The detective stepped into the dingy restaurant, showed his badge to a rather...well-endowed waitress, and asked to speak with Mr. Kirkland.
Kirkland was a short man with dirty blond hair and amusingly large eyebrows. He scowled throughout the conversation.
Idiotic.
Loud.
Obnoxious.
Narcissistic.
Extremely ignorant.
An attention whore.
These were some of his very strong opinions on Alfred Jones. But nothing raised any suspicion until he mentioned that Mr. Jones owed him exactly $86,753.09 from various loans, lost poker games, and bail money throughout the years. When he was informed of Mr. Jones' death, all he had to say was "Of course I didn't kill him. Where would I ever find the time?" According to Mr. Kirkland, between work and raising his younger brother, he could barely find time to sleep, much less commit cold-blooded, if not well-deserved, murder.
Mr. Kirkland told the detective that Jones didn't know when to keep his mouth shut and was usually too dense to realize that if he kept talking, someone would probably break his jaw, which apparently happened a few times. He informed the detective that Mr. Jones was "friends" with many people, some of which may have been involved with other people that might possibly be involved with the mob, but of course he couldn't possibly be sure because he was a gentleman and gentlemen didn't pry into others' business. Kirkland said that Alfred most likely pushed the wrong person's buttons and got himself killed. He advised the detective to check the local bars because Jones was a social butterfly with a slight alcohol problem.
The detective took Kirkland's advice and found out that Mr. Jones frequented a bar called The Dullahan and he was well known for being loud, obnoxious, and cocky no matter how bad he was losing at poker. The flirty blond bartender pointed out a man sitting alone at the end of the bar who had often fought and drank with Mr. Jones. He said the man's name was Ivan and he was on his fifth drink (straight vodka, no chaser, no variété, how boring, non?) and it was guaranteed that he would drink until he could barely walk and complain about the lack of zakuski. After declining the bartender's number and a drink on the house and fending off a few not-so-subtle gropes, the detective approached the man. He seemed sober enough. When asked if he would answer a few questions about Mr. Jones, he agreed.
Ivan Braginski apparently found Jones' death amusing, because when he was told he threw back his head and laughed like the detective had just told the world's funniest joke. After he calmed down, he told the detective that it was only a matter of time before somebody got so sick of Alfred that they were driven to murder. He said, "I only wish I could meet the person who did it and congratulate them on doing something I've been very tempted to do before many times", only slurring his words slightly. Mr. Braginski stood up at that moment, rising to a towering six-something height, bid the detective a good evening and left the bar.
On his way back to the office, the detective reviewed the suspects in his head. Kirkland had a very good motive if he needed the money like he said, especially in this economy. However, Braginski gave the detective the creeps and was, in all probability, completely psychopathic. It wouldn't surprise him if Mr. Braginski really was the murderer.
When the detective arrived at his office building he was informed by his secretary that there was a young man waiting for him in his office. The first thing he noticed about the young man was that he looked almost exactly like Mr. Jones. The man politely introduced himself as Matthew Williams, Alfred Jones' twin brother. When questioned on the discrepancy between their last names, he explained they were different because their parents divorced and each took a son with them. From what the detective knew about Mr. Jones, they had completely different personalities. Mr. Williams was very quiet, meek and polite. Mr. Jones was the complete opposite, if what everyone said about him was true.
The young man then did something very surprising. He said "I was the one who killed my brother." He quietly explain that anytime he was with Alfred, he was completely forgotten because his brother insisted on being in the spotlight. The last time they met, during a random encounter when Matthew was on a date, the man he was with, a recent immigrant from Germany, ended up forgetting him and leaving with Alfred. That was the final straw for him. He was tired of being stuck in Mr. Jones' shadow, tired of being mistaken for him even by their parents before the divorce. After he was abandoned again for his brother, Matthew promised himself it wouldn't ever happen again. He told the detective were to find the body and went quietly with the police.
Matthew Williams received and is currently serving a life sentence for the vicious murder of his twin brother Alfred Jones.
Ivan Braginski is in a mental hospital for nearly beating three young men to death in a drunken rage.
Arthur Kirkland is now an alcoholic from the stress of two jobs and having his brother, who he has raised for the past four years, taken away by the Department of Children and Families.
The boy was adopted by a young Scandinavian couple.
The bartender is currently facing criminal charges for lewd and lascivious behavior and sexual harassment.
Author's Note
This is my first story. That's why it sucks kinda. And I have a totally logical explanation for writing this.
We had to write a detective story for English and it needed at least 3 characters and be at least 1,000 words long. I do not like to write. I do not have a good imagination. So I did what anyone would do...
I stole characters from my favorite show.
This is adjusted from what I actually submitted to the teacher. She said no cursing (because a lady was reading it) and she made it clear early in the year she's anti-gay.
There are no words that describe how much I wanted to add Lovino and Francis just to piss her off. I kind hate her.
Anyway, about the story:
Zakuski is/are hors d'oeuvre served with vodka. It's stuff like caviar and blini (i love blini) and little cooked things.
The waitress was Ukraine with her HUGE...tracts of land...
Three guesses who the bartender was; the first two don't count and his name rhymes with Phrancis and manwhore
The German immigrant was not Ludwig (although I'd totally read GerCan) but my OTHER favorite German, the awesomeness that is Prussia. Because I ship PruCan. I ship it hard. I apologize for making him a Canada-forgetting bitchface.
I was just kidding about Peter being adopted. He was really sold on eBay for drinking money.
A dullahan is an unseelie faerie that was the inspiration for the Headless Horseman. That should tell you everything.
I don't own Gordon Ramsay, he's scary. He'd be England if England could, ya know, cook without killing someone.
I don't own Hetalia; if I did there would be more Prussia, more love for Canada, and Kuroshisuji levels of fanservice and gay. I only own this plot.
A free Sealand goes to the first person who tells me what else I don't own/stole from in the story.
Long note is long.
Review/tell me what to work on/correct my grammar/let me know someone's still reading this and Francis won't be in your closet tonight.