It's a trap!

by Droplets of blue rain

When a brutal murder occurred in Japan, a few miles away from the spot, a young, newly married couple, was happily cultivating the dream of being self-reliant by opening their new guesthouse. Will this dream of them be fulfilled or shattered? How is the murder connected to their guesthouse? (Dedicated to Moon and Blossoms).

2. Chapter 2

Hello everyone! How're you all?

Never did I think that I would be able to update this story so soon *Huffs*. But I am so interested and obsessed with this thriller that I had to utilize my vacation to update this. Hehe...

Thanks a lot to Moon and Blossoms, Feature of Phoenix and Rubies and Amethyst for reviewing. Also special thanks to Moon and Blossoms, Rubies and Amethyst and Sakhi2009 for favoriting and Moons and Blossoms and Rubies and Amethyst for following the story. Here comes the second chapter of "It's a trap!" Enjoy!

Warning: Character Death.

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The rays of the western sun were seeping in the living room, penetrating the soft glass of the arched windows. After a long time, the face of the Helio could finally be seen. The velvet curtains were pulled apart so that both the light and the heat could be welcomed and enjoyed. Dipping his ankles into the woolen carpet, the old man was cozily leaning against his couch, with a book open in his hands. Though he was in a comfortable position, the signs weren't visible on his expression. Rather, it was looking like he was feeling annoyed despite the easy and relaxed atmosphere around him. Beside him, the blonde major was sitting, lifting one leg against another and puffing his signature pipe with a chilled mood. With the corners of his eyes, the older man saw him once.

"I regret the decision to come here." He muttered under his breaths.

"Why, Mr. Barthez?" Romero cocked a brow, "Everything has been very nice since we arrived. For example, just think about today's breakfast. Toasted loaves with thick layers of unsalted butter, orange marmalade, pineapple juice, coffee…when I tasted the Spanish omelet, I felt as if I'd been in my own country. Besides, the hostess herself served the dishes and took care of everything. How sweet of her!"

"Hmph!" Barthez grouched, not able to bear the praises of the redhead.

"Today's lunch was also very delicious." Romero added.

"Delicious?" The old man remonstrated, tilting a page, "It was just usual sushi and corn-beef. I have them anyway on a daily basis."

When the hypercritical guy was throwing tantrums and complaining about the guesthouse mercilessly, the raven-haired Chinese was passing by. Hearing the old man bashing the scarlet-haired woman, his blood boiled. He felt the rage in his fists which were forcing him to throw themselves right at the jaw of the criticizer. Last night, he'd been in the kitchen, helping the hostess prepare the dinner for everyone. Not only that, he helped her that morning and afternoon too, nearly in every chore. In his own eyes, he'd seen how dedicated and hardworking she is, taking care of all the single details. Insulting the redhead meant slurring the Chinese as well which, of course, was beyond his limit of tolerance.

"You ended up in the wrong place, Mr. Barthez," He voiced, letting sarcasm drip from his throat, "Actually, this guesthouse is not for acidizers like you."

Romero chuckled, agreeing totally with the raven-haired man. The neko-jin treaded in another direction, Barthez remained glaring venomously at his trajectories. As the younger raven disappeared, the former griped inaudibly, "This guy looks not only peculiar, but also insolent and mentally unstable."

"Kane? Kane!"

With a hardwood broom and a tin scoop, the redhead hurriedly stormed into the drawing room. Looking here and there, not greeting or saying anything to the present guests in spite of seeing them, when she couldn't find her husband, she voiced again, "The backway has already been blocked due to heavy snowfall. We have to clean it as soon as possible."

"Coming!" From somewhere else, the blunette responded. Romero stood up, getting a chance to escape from the old man, "Let me help you too, Mrs. Yamashita. It's good exercise for our health and fitness."

"Thank you so much, Major," The hostess gladly smiled, while picking up some old magazines from the table which were supposed to be sold to the vendor, "I wish all the guests had been like you."

Barthez grouched at this statement of the redhead but didn't utter anything. Carrying the broom and the scoop with one hand while lifting the pile of magazines with another, hardly had she been about to leave the room in a hurry when she collided with someone. Before getting what happened, with a thud, the broom with the scoop fell on the ground. The thin quarterlies also thumped on the floor, splattering all over. The brunette with whom this clash took place just winced a little but the old man sitting here gasped as if the collision had occurred with him, not the chocolate-haired girl-and of course, resulting in a grave mishap.

"I'm extremely sorry, Miss Tachibana," Salima bit her tongue, kowtowing to pick up the objects that she dropped, "Are you okay?"

"It's okay, Mrs. Yamashita," Smiling a bit, Hilary assured her, "Don't sweat it."

Nervously chuckling, the scarlet-haired woman left, followed by the major. Bowing and greeting the old man silently, when the brunette sat beside him, he opened his mouth only to bash the redhead, "Have you seen the common sense of her, Miss? Who the hell comes with a broom in front of the guests? The basic etiquette and manners of the young generation are just becoming a myth day by day. Women nowadays are being so insolent and impolite. Anyways, how long are you going to stay here?"

The brunette screwed her eyebrows while listening to the eldest guest, curling her lips into a pout of dissatisfaction. Her mien was saying that she wasn't content with his words and at his behavior ever since he'd stepped here. The redhead, together with her husband, was working very hard and being very caring towards the guests. There was no lack of dedication, sincerity and cordiality in their words and actions. Yet, he kept judging and criticizing them. Yes, the brunette understood that the guesthouse was brand-new and the couple didn't have any experience of running an inn before it, so what? There is a beginning of everything in this world, isn't there?

"Depends," Hilary didn't express how she felt, "I have a job here. When it is completed, I will return home."

"Where's your home by the way?" Barthez looked a little curious, "America?"

"No." Replying in the negative, the brunette stood up and treaded towards the radio. As she turned it on with a press on a large, circular button, a mischievous grin appeared in her lips.

"Then?" He asked again, "England?"

"Why only English countries? Is my English too good, Mr. Barthez?"

Hilary snickered, wheeling another button which resulted in a huge rise in the volume of the music being played on the radio. At the abrupt elevation of decibels in the chamber, Barthez couldn't help gasping and rotating behind. His surprised eyes only discovered the chocolate-haired girl lean comfortably as well as quite stylishly against the heavy wooden shelf on which the radio was kept. Her eyes were shut, head was mildly jeering with the beats. Without any hurry, one of her hands slid into her pockets and stepped out with a packet of cigarettes. Pulling out one stick from that, the brunette tucked it between her curled lips. Another hand dragged a black, pocket-sized lighter outside to ignite the cigar.

"Can you lower the volume, please?" The old guy showed the green-colored book in his hands, "I can't read this."

"You were reading a book?" Hilary cocked an eyebrow, coming a few steps forward, "Let me see which book it is."

"You will, but let me finish first." Barthez moved the book away from the reach of the brunette.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Barthez," Lighting the cigarette, the brunette took the first puff, "Listening to music is one of my dearest hobbies. Besides, you can go to the library if you want. There, you can read this book more peacefully."

"I already know that," Barthez gritted his teeth, "But that place is colder."

"True," Hilary shrugged, puffing the cigar again and shaking her head more in amusement, "This place is very cozy."

The clenched fangs of the old man got more tightened, along with his fists. He stood up, dropping the book voluntarily on the floor. Irritation and infuriation were clearly visible in his thumping footsteps as he was leaving the room. Stopping at the territory of the chamber once, he glared back at the brunette, who, after finishing another puff from her cigarette, gave an impish grin at the angry guest. That increased his anger more as he cursed her under his breaths, his feet speeded double in the direction outwards as he clearly understood that it was nothing but the plan of the brunette to drive him out of the living room.

Once Barthez left the room, quickly, the brunette tiptoed and trailed him till the corridor. Letting him be out of her sight at first, she gently treaded towards the sofa on which he had been sitting. Picking the book up, she placed it on her lap, putting one leg comfortably on another and leaning against the couch. Laughter was tickling her stomach, she wanted to let it explode but she didn't, not wanting the older raven to hear it. Tilting the pages at the first, she chuckled and swore, a little audibly, "Hope I don't have to see anyone being bothered by you anymore in this guesthouse again, bloody old bastard!"

"Oh yeah!"

Rotating her neck behind, when she discovered the raven-haired guy standing near the fireplace and warming his palms, a broad smile of assurance rose in her lips. Keeping the book on the table, she greeted him, "Hello, Mr. Kon!"

"Hi, Miss Tachibana." Answering back, he came and sat beside her, "Wherever I go, I get to see the ominous face of this old hag. You have done such a great job by driving him out. If he could be kicked out from this guesthouse, it would be much better."

"In this weather?" Hilary pointed at the window, "Forget it, Mr. Kon."

Really, within a few minutes, not letting anyone know anything, the weather had adopted a drastic change, the raven-haired guy had to admit. Already the sun had hidden his face behind the grayish-white clouds. Although it was only 3 o' clock, the Chinese and the brunette felt as if the twilight had already descended all over the aura. Not a single ray of sunshine could seep through the windows and give them a natural warmth. Snowfall commenced, springing from those rafts of vapors. A few centimeters of sleets mustered up before their eyes, outside the window. Unexpectedly or not, a gust of chilling waft knocked at the arched loopholes, making them tremble with its suddenness and extremely low temperature but thanks to the hard glass, it became hindered.

"Yeah, you're right…" Ray was still hopeful, "But what about when this snowfall ends?"

"Till then, a lot of things can happen, Mr. Kon." Hilary, however, let his hopes nip in bud, "Let's avoid him. Rather, take a look of this book. This…"

Curiously, the neko-jin came closer to the brunette and kept listening to her. They were so engaged in a conversation regarding the book that neither of them could hear the telephone kept on the big closet ringing. However, from another room, the redhead clearly heard it. That's why, within a few seconds, she entered and picked up the call, "Hello, this is Chika Sinden guesthouse. Who's speaking?"

The chiming telephone couldn't break Ray's attention from the book and the conversation with the brunette but the mellowing voice of the redhead effortlessly did that. Turning his head, he watched the redhead keep speaking, "Inspector Akimitsu? Yes yes…What? Police?"

At this, Hilary also couldn't help frowning. With her eyes, she gestured to the neko-jin to go there and see what happened. Ray was ready, he didn't need her signal to reach the redhead. Swiftly, he approached the hostess and asked, "What's wrong, Mrs. Yamashita? Is everything okay?"

"Hm…" Nodding, Salima hung the phone up, "Everything is okay, Mr. Kon. No need to worry. Anyways, I already kept the cookies and a cup of tea in your room. Go and have them, otherwise, it will get cold."

"Okay." Sighing and glancing at the scarlet-haired woman once, the neko-jin left the chamber. Though the ruby eyes of the brunette were fixed on the pages of the book and lips seizing the cigarette, her ears were, of course, somewhere else. When she heard the word "Police", not only she became a little perturbed, but also more curious than that. The redhead, nevertheless, was way more anxious about the conversation that she had had over the telephone, with the inspector. When she saw her husband making his way to the living room, she felt a little relieved, finding someone to share what she'd experienced just then.

"Sal, where's our axe?" He straightly came to her, "Did you see it?"

"Kane…" Salima lowered her voice, eyeing the brunette who was seeming absorbed in the book, "Police have called just now."

"What? Police?" The blunette frowned.

"Police?" Keeping the book on the sofa, the chocolate-haired girl stood up, exhaling the toxic smoke through her lips and giving a devilish chuckle, "Mr. and Mrs. Yamashita, be alert. Without any license, selling alcohol is a punishable offense, you know."

Dumbfounded, Kane and Salima kept staring at the brunette hearing her statement as with her chuckling face, exhaling smokes in another coil, she left the room. When Kane was finally able to process everything, he asked his wife, "What happened, Sal? What do the police want from us?"

"I don't know…" The redhead shook her head, "Inspector has said that they will send a detective sergeant here for an urgent and important investigation."

Sighing, she slowly plodded towards the sofa, letting her body tiredly slump against it. Following his wife, Kane also sat beside her. He could understand that she was exhausted-managing all the chores of the guesthouse and this turmoil.

"What the hell is happening with us, Kane?" Her voice sounded fatigued as well, "At first, the snowfall started again. The supply of coal is also about to end for which the central heating system is not working. Now, these police…"

"Hey, don't worry, dear," The blunette placed a hand on her shoulder, "Everything will be okay. I'm here, aren't I?"

Salima jiggled her head, being assured. No matter how worried she was, when her husband was by her side, she could just let her anxieties vanish in the wind. Kane softly smiled at her, picking up her hands into his palms to calm her down.

"Looks like the charming lady is worried about something."

Coughing, when the navy-haired guy remarked from the corridor of the living room, the husband and the wife, startled, separated themselves from each other. Standing up, the blunette spoke, "Come in, Mr. Granger."

"Thanks, Mr. Yamashita." Entering the drawing room, the younger blunette strode to the fireplace, "If you never mind, may I fuel the fire for you?"

"No, no, thanks, Mr. Granger," Salima hastily shook her head, "Please have a seat."

"No worries, Mrs. Yamashita."

Tyson assured her, feeling the warmth of the repressed flames from the hearth. Sighing, as soon as the redhead turned towards the windows, she saw the silhouette of a manly figurine, standing outside. Only the medium height, slender figure and spiky hair of the man could be guessed from its position. The outward light was so dim that his face couldn't be seen clearly. In his two hands, he was holding a pair of slim rods. Because of the extremely speedy winter wind outside, the shadow was quivering a bit. Be it for the lack of enough luminosity, the amount of fog mustered on the glass or the pose of the stranger standing in front of the window, he was looking eerie enough to frighten the scarlet-haired woman.

"Aaaaaah!"

Hearing the sudden scream of the hostess, both the blunettes rotated to her, getting startled. Kane rushed towards her, "What happened, Sal?"

"Over…" With a trembling hand, somehow, the redhead pointed at the window, "Over there."

When Kane noticed the silhouette at the windows, he became surprised as well as a little scared too. Tyson screwed his brows, not able to understand who could be there. Nonetheless, the elder blunette headed to the windows. Clearing his throat, he questioned, almost in a commanding tone only to decrease the amount of nervousness in his mind, "Who's there?"

"Is it Mr. Yamashita?" Quite a childish, yet bold voice could be heard from the other side of the window.

"Yes."

"This is sergeant Max Tate," The voice stated, "I have been sent from the police headquarters, by inspector Akimitsu. The roads were clogged with so much snow that I had to come here with the help of my skis. Please, let me come in."

"Sure, Mr. Tate." Kane went to the main door in order to receive Max and keep his ski equipment. Biting his lips in tension, Tyson asked Salima, "Mrs. Yamashita, why did you call the police? What's wrong?"

"I didn't call them, Mr. Granger…" Salima was equally worried, "Before a few minutes, Inspector Akimitsu called and said that he was sending a sergeant here. But I don't know why he sent Mr. Tate here."

"This way, sergeant."

With the host of the house, a blonde in his early twenties, stepped in. He was fair in complexion, a little shorter than Salima. Maybe, his shadow was looking taller on the window glass. Not only that, he was only much younger than any other person in the guesthouse. His bubbly blue eyes were sparkling with amusement and enthusiasm as if something enjoyable had been going to take place around him. Although he was dressed in a turtleneck, full-sleeved midnight blue sweater with a black overcoat and black pants, Salima felt that these colors weren't for him. Maybe only in order to make himself look older and more serious; he wore those clothes.

"Can't believe it!" Tyson rolled his eyes, "Can a policeman be so young?"

"Though I look young, I am not actually, Sir." The blonde smirked, "Mr. Yamashita, Please help me keep my skis somewhere secured. Mrs. Yamashita, I need to meet everyone in this guesthouse now. Please have them called here."

"Sure, Mr. Tate." Salima was about to go upstairs but before that, she met another blonde. Seeing her, he asked, "Mrs. Yamashita, may I use your telephone for a few minutes?"

"Definitely, Mr. Romero."

Permitted by the redhead, the Spaniard went to the phone. When he dialed the number, pressing the receiver against one of his ears, he couldn't hear the telephone ringing. He dialed the number again, still, it was pin-drop silence on the other side of the phone. Gnawing his jaw, he kept the receiver on the holder. Why did the telephone have to be dead all of a sudden? Seeing the hostess coming downstairs with other guests, he approached her, "Mrs. Yamashita, your telephone is not working. Looks like it's dead."

"What?" Salima puckered her brows, "How? The line was perfect even before a while! Then how…"

"Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen," Max directed the guests, "I have come here to ensure your safety."

"Safety?" Barthez cocked a brow, "From whom?"

"From the murder of the Namikaze street."

"Namikaze street?" Kane scratched his head, sitting down on the sofa together with other guests, "You mean…the murderer of Kyushiriin Nakamura?"

"Yeah, Mr. Yamashita," Max stated, "But her actual name is not Kyushiriin. Her name is Katherine, which she changed after her imprisonment. Some know her as Dr. K too as she was an agriculture researcher."

"Imprisonment?" Everyone in the room glowered.

"Hm," The sergeant nodded, "Actually, she is the wife of Mashahiro Nakamura, who, by occupation, was a very wealthy farmer. Their house, Nakamura farm, is not very far away from this guesthouse."

"Nakamura farm?" Suddenly, the redhead got to recall something, "In that farm…"

"Exactly, Mrs. Yamashita, exactly!" Beaming up, Max almost snatched the words from her mouth, "Those three children."

Nearly all the guests along with both the host and the hostess evoked something, more or less. It had occurred nine or ten years ago. All over Japan, it had spread abhorrence, torment and infuriation. Though child abuse was always strictly prohibited in Japan, it had been prevalent in some regions back at that time. However, this case was different, shaking the hearts of those who had used to think and work for the welfare of children.

"Three children…" The brunette mused, unknowingly.

"Yeah," However, the hyperactive American thought her muses to be a question, "Two girls and a boy. They were living in an orphanage at first. That orphanage was quite apathetic to the children. They usually didn't serve the residents their meals properly. That's why, one day, those three kids escaped from the place but were caught so soon that they couldn't go much farther. The court handed their custody to the Nakamura family. But both Mr. and Mrs. Nakamura were very harsh on the children. They also physically and mentally tortured the kids, leaving them unfed most often and imposing heavy burdens of household chores on their shoulders.

The elder two were quite strong. However, the youngest girl couldn't bear so much torture. One day, she had to breathe her last. A case was filed to the local court, as the couple was sentenced to imprisonment of eight years. Mr. Nakamura couldn't complete his punishment as he died in the jail due to a heart-attack. Mrs. Nakamura came out, changed her name and…you know the rest."

"Where are the rest of the children?" Kane asked, "You know?"

"The elder sister was adopted by a lavishly rich family, as far as I know," Max replied, "Their only brother joined the military but couldn't continue there, escaping from the cantonment before a week. The medical team has reported that he was mentally unstable and a psychopath. That's why, we are suspecting him the most to be the culprit."

"But what's the relation of the murder case or the murder suspect to this guesthouse?" The navy-haired man asked.

"Of course, there's a relation," Grinning a bit, the detective sergeant put out a notebook from his pocket, "From the place of the occurrence, this notebook was found. Two addresses are noted here. One is Namikaze street, and another is…. Chika Sinden guesthouse!"

"What?"

Astonished, everyone stood up from their respective seats. The ruby eyes of the brunette went widened, the redhead bit her lips, both the pairs of the eyebrows of the navy-haired guest and the blunette host became scrunched, the taller blonde got absorbed into the ocean of countless thoughts and whispers, a faint smirk of amusement rose in the lips of the raven-haired neko-jin, at last but not at least, the oldest guest in the house gulped.

"Yes, you all have heard right," Then again, the hyperactive American wasn't bothered by the shock that they received just then, "That's why, I need to know if anyone here has any connection with Nakamura farmhouse. Mr. Yamashita, do you have any?"

"No no, Sir, not at all." Kane shook his head.

"Mrs. Yamashita, do you?"

"Me?" Hesitation splayed all over the face of the redhead but she didn't waste much time to answer, "No, neither I."

"Hmm…" The American turned to the eldest guest, "What about you, Sir?"

"Mr. Barthez," The guest introduced himself as well as denied, "I also don't have any idea."

"You, navyhead?"

"Tyson Granger," The navy-haired guy chuckled, scratching his head, "Though I am a Japanese by birth, I live in Canada with my family, well-settled. I think I heard about this news in my childhood but I can't remember it now, sergeant."

"Okay," Max glared at Hilary, "Miss, you?"

"Tachibana." The brunette didn't even bother to tell him her full name, going straightforward, "I never heard the name of Nakamura farmhouse and I don't know anything about this incident."

"You, Major?"

"Romero," The older blonde stated, "I read about this incident in the newspaper. But I don't know much about Nakamura farmhouse."

"You, catty-boy?"

"Ray. Ray Kon," The neko-jin replied, "When this event occurred, I was only a child. I also cannot remember much."

"So…this is all your response?" Max sighed, "Fine. Mr. Yamashita, I want to have a brief tour of your guesthouse. Can you help me?"

"Mention not, Mr. Tate." Nodding, the blunette took the blonde out of the living room. As soon as the duo left, all other guests-more or less, sighed in relief as if a big burden had been removed from their shoulders.

"How dangerous this man pretends to be!" The neko-jin opened his mouth first, "Although his pretension has failed in my eyes, I must say."

"Well, Mr. Barthez," The older blonde, turning to the eldest guest, inquired, "You were one of the judiciary members who gave the custody of these three children to Nakamura couple, weren't you?"

The elder raven-haired guy slowly nodded as everyone revolved to him, discovering that he had lied to the sergeant at the time of interrogation. Hilary's jaw became tightened, Salima furrowed her brows, Ray and Tyson both looked equally excited. The Spaniard again queried, "Why didn't you speak the truth to sergeant Tate when he was asking us if we had any connection to Nakamura farmhouse or not?"

"I didn't lie at all," Barthez was too adamant to accept his guilt, "My duty was only to give a shelter, a family to those children. Besides, I also didn't have any idea that the Nakamura family could commit such a heinous crime. They promised me to admit those children to a good school, along with nurturing them properly like their own kids."

"And you didn't even care to verify once?" Romero seethed.

"It means I was right…" Salima pointed at him with her index finger, "You are also a part…"

"I just completed my duty!" Barthez snapped, gnashing his jaw, "To be updated about those children was never a part of my responsibilities, got it?"

"Hahaha…" Suddenly, Tyson burst out laughing, totally ruining the serious environment in the room, "Now the real fun starts. Mr. Barthez, don't speak it up before the sergeant. I also want to see where it goes. Anyways, I am going to my room."

"Mrs. Yamashita," Ray also stood up, "I am going to chop the potatoes for dinner. Join me when you feel free."

"Hm." Salima just nodded.

"I think I have lost my pen," Barthez, somehow, found an excuse to leave the room, "Maybe in the library."

Once all the men left, only the brunette and the redhead remained in the room. The latter turned on the lights because already it was evening and nightfall prevailed all over the aura. To lighten the deafening discreetness in the ecosphere, she reached one of the shelves. Opening the sliding door of the showcase, she picked out a wooden, sandalwood-colored Geisha doll whose jet hair was bound into a high Nihongami bun with the support of a metal hairpin and embellished with some white fabric myrtles. It was wearing a peachy-orange kimono, with a broad, black belt fastened around its waist. One of its hands was holding a traditional, blue paper-fan. Its eyes were like black-diamonds, filled with all the childlike curiosity and adoration in this world.

"Look, Miss Tachibana," Salima brought the doll to Hilary, with a cheery smile all over her face, "This was one of my childhood toys, given to me by my dad. I still love it to no end."

"Nice," A small smile rose in the lips of the brunette too, "Looks like you had a great childhood, didn't you?"

"Of course!" The redhead enthusiastically nodded, "What about you?"

When this question was asked to the brunette, within no second, the length of the smile totally disappeared from her lips. Her face became darkened just like the hazardous weather outside, or say, the storm, somehow breaking the barrier of the walls and windows, found a shelter all over her mien. Ruby eyes trembled a bit, fingers became curled into a pair of fists. Heaving a sigh, with a frazzled heart, she stood up and nonchalantly plodded a few steps towards the wall, not caring. Salima became a little flabbergasted at this action of the chocolate-haired girl, wondering why she wasn't answering. Was the brunette even in this world then? Or…had the question been too sensitive?

"I am sorry, Miss Tachibana…" Salima apologized in a gloomy tone, "I shouldn't have…"

"No."

Stretching a palm and turning back, the brunette stopped the lady who became startled a little. The ruby eyes of the former were cerise, the pupils were juddering a bit no matter how much their owner was trying to keep them stagnant. A bizarre mixture of sheer determination, courage and intense pain of endless sufferings was present in those orbs.

"Mrs. Yamashita," Hilary's voice was extremely cold, "No matter what happens, I will never let my past control me. Never."

Not letting the other lady speak, just like a gust of wind, with her swift footsteps, the chocolate-haired girl exited. Only the redhead remained there, dumbfounded. She wasn't understanding what she'd had to say to the brunette or how she should have reacted. She was also curious about the childhood of this guest of hers. Was she an orphan? Hadn't she had enough scopes and opportunities to receive her education? Had she been married off to someone at a tender age? Did she have a stepmom or stepdad who had tortured her mercilessly? What could have happened to her at her tender age for which she didn't want to remember that phase of her life? The scarlet-haired woman kept pondering.

"Well, I'm done," Salima revolved her head, severing the chain of her thoughts as she heard the voice of the detective who was coming in the living room with her husband. He entered there, "Nothing suspicious was found. Mrs. Yamashita, let me phone the inspector and tell him that everything is fine here till now."

"Well…" The redhead sheepishly spoke, gulping, "I am sorry…but you won't be able to contact him now. It's dead."

"What?"

Both the pairs of blue orbs became widened. Kane screwed his brows as it seemed almost unbelievable to him. He quickly rushed towards the phone and pressed the receiver against his ear, dialing random numbers but all his attempts to resurrect the phone went futile. Still confused, he asked his wife as the younger man went to check the other details of the telephone, "How can it be dead, Sal? It was fine even before a while, wasn't it?"

"Looks like…" Through the window behind the closed-door shelf on where the phone was kept, the sergeant pulled out a severed cord, "Someone cut off the wire of this telephone from outside."

"Who would cut it off?" Salima frowned, "Maybe because of the heavy snowfall…"

"Uh no…not at all, Mrs. Yamashita," Max shook his head, "Yesterday's snowfall was heavier. Still the phone worked, didn't it?"

Once again, Salima found herself flabbergasted, this time, a little anxious and scared. Not understanding what to say, she decided to escape for a while, "Kane, please assist Mr. Tate. I'm going to the kitchen."

"Sure." Nodding, Kane was about to pay attention to the phone but before that, his heed was grabbed by something else. Though it was just a pair of trivial gloves, the blunette had to wonder because it belonged to his wife and a paper piece peeping outside from one of the gloves. Frowning, he approached and picked it up, putting out the slender, rectangular strip from the mitten. To his utter surprise, it came out as a butter-colored bus ticket. It was a round-trip ticket, from this place to straight Tokyo. The names of the destination and departure stoppages were already printed on it.

The blunette's eyebrows became a bit furrowed. When had his wife gone to Tokyo? And why? Most importantly, if she'd gone to the capital, why wouldn't she have told him this? Why was she still hiding this fact from him? Why had she even lied to him that she had been around this guesthouse to buy some stuffs when Kane had asked him yesterday night about where she had been? She was never like this; used to tell and inform him everything before doing something or taking any decision. Then what happened to her suddenly? Suspicion and dilemma, simultaneously, started bubbling in his heart.

"Mr. Yamashita?!"

Disconcerted, the blunette wheeled to the blonde who asked him, showing the telephone, "Does this phone have any extension?"

"No…no, Mr. Tate," Kane somehow managed to answer, striving hard to wake up from his thoughts, "It doesn't have any."

"Thank you," The detective glanced all over the blunette, "Well, let's go."

Sighing, with a confused and restless heart, the blunette left the chamber with the sergeant, not forgetting to look back at the pair of gloves once again. Not in less than 15 minutes, the eldest guest of the inn entered there as he was feeling colder in his room. Besides, he couldn't have finished his letter in the afternoon. There was no one to disturb him now. Breathing relievedly, he sat on the sofa with his writing pad and the fountain pen, stretching his legs comfortably. The warmth of the fireplace embraced him from all the four directions. Amidst the silence, his ears twitched as they noticed someone's tiptoeing footsteps in the room.

Creasing his eyebrows, the old man turned behind, discovering that the intruder was none but someone he met after entering this guesthouse. The person, at that time, was wearing a long, black overcoat with a light-colored scarf. A large, dark-colored felt hat was covering the upper half of the face but he or she could easily be recognized by the hair color. Spinning to the radio, one of his or her hands turned it on with a louder volume. As a result, within a single second, the device started producing a lot of sounds. Of course, by this act, Barthez got annoyed.

"Hey?" He stood up, "What the hell are you doing? Won't you all never stop being after me?"

Not replying, the intruder went to the switchboard, turning off all the lights one by one. This act of him or her just added fuel to the fire of the infuriation of the retired judiciary person. He almost yelled, "Stop this! Otherwise, I will get you ousted from this guesthouse by complaining to the hosts. Lord, what a place you have fetched me in!"

Still, no reply. Gritting his teeth, no sooner had the old man been about to leave the room than a piece of fabric, out of nowhere, embraced his throat from his back. Before he could process what happened, the bond got tightened. His eyes became enlarged in shock and due to the unexpected absence of oxygen in his lungs. He grabbed the cloth and tried to free his neck from its attachment but his efforts, primarily, went in vain as the fists operating the cloth-piece were too strong. The feet of the old man started sliding against the floor miserably as he wanted to get unrestricted by a sudden sprint but no, this attempt of his also didn't work.

"Gahhhhhh!"

His muffled breaths, his abortive attempts to save himself or scream for help-nothing could be heard by anyone, thanks to the extreme noise from the radio. His entire respiratory system shrieked for a molecule of oxygen but all the ways were already blocked from all sides. Due to this, both his eyes were writhing to come out from their respective sockets. His face, together with the lip, became blue. Soon, each of his limbs, one by one, stopped supporting him, going numb little by little. Finally, when the fabric was removed by the intruder-

"Thump!"

Producing a little loud sound, the lifeless figurine clashed with the floor, remaining there motionlessly. The person chuckled a tad watching the fresh, newly murdered corpse. Then, putting the cloth in the pocket of the overcoat, trampling it, he or she quietly left the room as if nothing had happened just then. The judge stayed there with his body discharging all the heat inside it into the ecosphere, entering the phase of his eternal siesta, amidst the eerie nightfall in the living room denser than the ink due to the turned off lights and earsplitting shouts emitted by the radio as the sole witnesses of the abrupt, ruthless, petrifying and spine-chilling assassination.

Without them, none saw it, none heard it and none had any idea.

---

*Gulps* Who could have murdered Barthez? (No matter who, you all-more or less, must have been a little satisfied with his demise, right? :P)

But who's the murderer actually? What's with Hilary's childhood btw? Can you guess?

Every question will be answered in the very next as well as the last chapter of this thriller. Till them, stay motionless holding this cliffhanger xP

Do read and review. Pardon the grammatical and the spelling errors. Take care :D

-Misty ^_^