I wanted to bang my head against the door, then growl till I was blue in the face, as I often did in my grandma’s house. I remember she said to the neighbors it was a healthy sign in a growing wee boy. Our neighbors prophesied me a great criminal future — the death on the desolate Fleur Moor or in a Mind Disorder York prison. They were too nosy, too provocative, too worried. Thanks to my grandma, a strong lady with a considerable deficit of patience, they were gone from our daily topics, as well as our life.
I stared at the lonely chair, tugging at my grey suit in anticipation of the meeting with my first suspect. There was an intoxicating sigh in the far corner of the room. I moved towards it when the door opened, and a gloomy man with questioning eyes stepped inside. I breathed in the twilight of his poisonous claustrophobic aura.
“What am I doing on the list, Bullet? Why am I a villain?” Mr. Killing asked.
“I have to admit, I defined my suspects very broadly. Mostly by oversized genitals and with the help of other criminological methods.” I felt the power: so satisfying and sweet.
“It was a delightful surprise to see you decided to leave your position at the museum. I’d never imagined you were dreaming of working with criminal justice.”
His tranquil answer alerted me. Mr. Killing shoved a paper under my nose, demanding a signature. I was shocked — nothing would ever be the same again: busses, books, sudoku-puzzles, dreams about Sobekneferu, infinity drawings — all that would be gone. I dropped to my knees, absorbing the dust on Mr. Killing’s shoes. I was ready to beg that narcissistic bastard to forgive me… but then I caught the sight of a flame, the silhouette full of glitter, the woman with a perfect waist — an image of passion in a motion.
I quickly signed the paper and pushed him out of the room.
I turned — she was still there. Her eyes were about to burst out crying, but that didn’t stop me from getting steel hard in about five seconds.
“Who are you, angel?” I asked.
“Miss Amblycorypha Oblongifolia.”
I started to wonder what kind of crime I was investigating if a victim was in front of me.
“Any other details I need to know?”
“I am the daughter of King Hamilton, the ruler of the beautiful land, Gunung Kinabalu.”
“Where is it?”
I nodded in satisfaction. The princess told me that her mother died when she was fairly young. A couple of years ago, she met Mr. Domination at the local party in Luanda (Angola). They felt a mutual attraction and decided to spend the rest of their lives together. Then she saw his picture in the paper — Mr. Domination was married, with five children. It was a scandalous affair! In the end, her proud father deported Mr. Domination from their happy land. When I asked how she ended up in Rsa, the young woman wept that a vicious Mr. Vegas kidnaped her.
I pictured myself as a prosperous monarch, the first in the generation of Harmless to become a King.
“I can help you,” I said with a friendly grin.
“You’d make a great husband.” Miss Royalty stretched her curves, opening to my sight a private doorway: her hips were raised to a suitable angle to push my stem into her five inches deep pearl.
The knock – and the mirage was gone… When I opened my eyes, Arcadio Hardstone sat on the chair in the middle of the room. That dramatic scene had raised some suspicion in my gut because Arcadio looked like the man who’d easily slit the throats of your parents.
“I hate when people are trying to interrupt my afternoons, photoshoots, and erections,” explained Mr. Hardstone. “I own The Inner Circle Bank. I don’t need any diamonds or rare katydids. In fact, that katydid had a rheumatic heart for years.”
“If you were an outstanding detective…” He raised his voice. “You’d know it was the boy. He is the killer! Check a rock twenty meters down the entrance on which sat a red-spotted toad this morning. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
I was ready to apologize, when the door opened, and the oddest creature entered the room — a long-haired armadillo.
“My best pal. Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Arcadio patted the beast.
“Furiously sexy. What’s her name?” I asked, stuttering.
“I thought it was a female.”
“Kinky name. I like it.” I lied.
“Be careful with the compliments. Jack can feel when a man looks at a woman with lust or when a man has already committed adultery with her in his heart.” Arcadio chuckled.
“Tell her I am not one of those.”
“Anybody can be one of those, especially in this city.”
The armadillo bit my finger, showing the sign of distrust.
“Forgive me if I said something оffensive, Madame Jack. My English needs improvement.” I swallowed my last words. Being there, in a room full of dirty secrets and dangerous reptiles, blocked my mind completely. I shut my eyes. Again.
“You are cold,” said Miss Amblycorypha Oblongifolia.
“On the contrary.” I felt absorbed by her presence. Before I could resume the eternal conversation about our future, the room went bright and loud. The annoying boy was here.
“Haven’t you caused enough damage? Never mind the murder and the broken peace of my mind.” I shouted.
“It was an accident, Harmless. I had no idea that pink shit was encrusted with diamonds.”
“The best thing you can do is to confess.”
We regarded each other in the sudden silence. He made a childish pffff noise – halfway between a surprise and a laugh.
“No way. You are too dumb to prove it was me!”
“Okay. Remember, you asked for it.” Full of rage, I left the room.
Next chapter. Day 6 – The Terrace.