A Killer In Our Midst

Chapter 1

Alfred Jones - the best of the best anywhere, might he add - was currently stuck in detention for something that wasn't even his fault. The guy was asking for it! Bullying Alfred's friends was a one way ticket to punch-in-the-face town, and everyone in the school had to know it! At least, that's what Alfred thought. Turns out, not everyone knew.

Now he was just waiting for the moment his uncle - it really felt weird to call Arthur that, considering he was only about 8 years older than Alfred - stormed into the office in a huff. Shaking his leg, Alfred sighed. He knew the routine by now. He would get in trouble and stay after school in detention, and once detention was over (it only lasted an hour after all), Arthur would walk himself in and chat up the office ladies (gentlemanly of course) and wait for Alfred to trudge out of the classroom.

As soon as they got to the car, he would start the lecture - and there's his footsteps now. Putting his elbow on the desk and leaning his head into his hand, Alfred sighed. The whispering of the other students on the other side of the room kept him from closing his eyes and resting for a bit. Just a few more minutes in this desk and he would be free. Well, free for about 5 seconds. Now just to wait…

Arthur Kirkland had a predicament. And that predicament had a name - Alfred Jones. His nephew had gotten into detention again. For punching a fellow student in the face! Really, at this point it was the norm. Even Arthur could tell that Alfred had a bit of an explosive temper, and anything could set the poor boy off. But usually he managed to keep it reigned in, and he could stop himself from hauling off and punching the object of his rage. His nephew was a very strong boy, and his teachers were always surprised he wasn't in sports - but Alfred had never gravitated towards things like that, and Arthur never made him.

Now he needed just wait for Alfred to walk out of the detention room and meanwhile, Arthur began to chat with the office ladies he had grown acquainted with as Alfred's detentions became more frequent. Alfred's blond head appeared from the opening door of the detention classroom, and Arthur took a second to wave a quick goodbye and take a deep breath, and then marched forward.

"Alfred!" He grabbed the teen's arm in a tough grip, but not so hard that he was hurting the boy - he wasn't a barbarian after all - and pulled him along as he walked out to the car. Alfred just let himself be pulled along, but shook off Arthur's hand as they approached the car.

"Unless you really want to open the car door for me, Arthur, I'm not a child, I can do it myself." Alfred said, tone oozing with sarcasm. Giving Alfred a dry look, Arthur got into the front seat while Alfred, still unhappy, crossed his arms and slid into the backseat. His fingers tapped on his arms, and his legs bounced up and down with excess energy.

"We're having meatloaf for dinner tonight. I thought you might want to know." Arthur kept his gaze forward as he started the car and began the drive towards the apartment. "Also, I'm going to be gone for most of tomorrow."

"Are you gonna burn it again?" Alfred cocked an eyebrow and stared at Arthur through the mirror. Arthur tightened his hands on the steering wheel, and clenched his jaw.

"No, Alfred, I won't burn it." Alfred rolled his eyes and sat back.

As they pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, Alfred unbuckled himself and ran ahead of Arthur to open the apartment door. As Arthur neared the door, he stopped and his eye twitched. 'Seriously? Is there a reason everything irritating is happening to me today?'

Francis was talking to Alfred as the boy opened the door. With a sigh, Arthur called out. "Francis? What are you doing here?" The blond-haired man turned towards Arthur and began to walk towards him while Alfred slipped inside and closed the door.

"We have a new case." Francis rubbed the back of his neck.

"What about-"

"Our old one? Elizabeta took that over and said this one needs our attention more. It's a classic serial killer case - so far we've got 2 victims and Elizabeta is sure there's going to be more. I've got the case file here."

Arthur motioned Francis inside and closed the door behind them. He grabbed the folder Francis held and placed it on the kitchen table as he pulled out the ingredients to start the meatloaf. Francis made himself at home, sitting on the couch and switching on the TV. Arthur crouched down and pulled out a dish from one of the cabinets. He placed it on the counter without looking up, but was careful to push it far from the edge, after that disaster with the casserole a few days ago. Arthur was pretty sure the floor was still sticky from that.

"What are you making? And why are you making it? I distinctly remember that one time you burnt cereal… I still don't understand how you did that." Francis popped up behind the counter, making Arthur jump.

"Don't scare me like that! Also, that wasn't my fault and you know it. I accidently left the box of cereal on the oven, and it caught on fire." Arthur frowned at Francis, furrowing his brows. He wasn't that bad of a cook, honestly… Some people just over exaggerated a bit too much. Alfred being one of those people. Francis, too. Come to think of it, most of the people he was around during the day were one of those people.

Francis sat down on a barstool, chin in his hands, watching Arthur move around the kitchen. As soon as he popped the meatloaf in the oven and set the timer, he hopped off the stool and walked around the counter. "Time to look at the case file!" Arthur frowned at him, turning on the sink and washing his hands almost slower than molasses.

"I've gotta wash my hands first, Francis. Proper hygiene, no?" Francis cracked a smile and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, yes, proper hygiene. Now come on, we've gotta put our minds to this before Alfred comes out asking for dinner. I've known that boy half as long as you have, but I still know his stomach rules over his mind."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, but pulled out a chair and sat down. Francis sat down in the chair right next to his and pulled several pieces of paper out of the file folder.

"Now, we've got two victims so far. James Hartford and Marcus Edgeworth. No social link between them...that we can see. However, they are both young males in their early twenties. Marcus (Francis held up a photo of a young man with brown hair that spilled beneath him, eyes closed and hands clasped over his chest.) was left in a very nice manner deep in the public park. A local jogger walking his dog found him while he was going on his daily route. I don't think the killer expected him to be found though, because the jogger only saw him because his dog went off the path."

Arthur closed his eyes for a second, gave a deep breath, and nodded to Francis. "Continue." He said, waving his hand in front of him.

"James Mallow, however, was found in the bushes outside of his house. His mother stepped outside to take a smoke, and as she told the officer who interviewed her, she 'saw a trail of red that looked like syrup, and followed it, only to see my son with my prized roses covering him.' He was found with multiple deep cuts covering his entire body, but his neck was broken before that happened. So we were able to tell his mother that he didn't suffer before he died. It didn't help her much." Francis pursed his lips.

"Well, it wouldn't help me much either, if I was in that position." Arthur grabbed the photos from Francis and took one last look at them before pushing them aside in favor of the small stack of paper that laid in front of Francis. It was notebook paper covered in the scrawled, barely legible notes covering the case.

"Who wrote these?" Arthur wrinkled his nose. "I can barely read them." He shuffled the papers, spotting copies of the pictures Francis had glued to the pages with notes written over the edges of the picture.

"The detective who was covering this case before us wrote all those notes as he worked on it. He only left the case because he had to retire due to his age. The case is a couple years old, too. James died about 3 years back, and Marcus died about a year and half ago."

"Big timeframe between them. I wonder why?" Arthur bit his lip and sighed. He pushed the papers away and stood up as he heard the timer going off. "Are you staying for dinner?" He tossed the question behind him as he walked towards the oven.

He heard the chair screeching behind him as Francis stood up. "Sure," He replied. "I'll go get Alfred." Arthur pulled the meatloaf out of the oven and heard Francis knock on Alfred's door down the hall.

Arthur set the dish down on the table and wiped his hands on the sides of his pants before he sat down. He began to serve himself as Francis pulled his chair back and Alfred rocketed himself down into his own chair.

1/30/2019

Man this story has literally been in development for like 4 years, and I never like it enough each time. Have this (3rd) edition of it. It's pretty different from the other two editions, though.

Enjoy! But don't expect the next chapter soon. Thanks for reading.