1 the close up

We heard a scream coming from her room. We ran upstairs, tried to open the door but it was locked from the inside. Mr.Dave Moore busted in, and we were all shocked. We saw miss Vivian Jones on the ground covered in her blood. He checked her pulse, "we are too late" he said "she is already gone" he continued. We were all shocked. Dozens of questions came to my mind. Who did it? Why did he do it? Most importantly, how did he do it? The room was locked from the inside and the door is the only way in! Was it suicide? Or murder!

Ten days earlier earlier

My name is Roy Hanson, I am 18 years old and I study at Oakleaf High. Our school is just like any other school, except every student at the end of their second year is supposed to spend at least 20 days at some office, to have an idea about the professional world. We are still young, so nothing much is expected from us and no one takes it seriously but you still have to do it. We call it "the close up"

I was on my way back home with some friends, after the last day of this school year.

"So, have you decided where you will be spending your close up?" one of them asked.

"I will be spending it at my father's bureau. He is a lawyer. What about you Roy?" another said.

"I think I will be doing the same. My father is an architect and his business is good, so I think it will be interesting to spend some time there."

As I arrived home I said goodbye to my friends and wished them good luck with their close-ups. I went in, my parents were already there preparing the table for lunch.

"I'm home," I said as I opened the door.

"Welcome home" they both replied.

"How was your last day at school?" my father asked.

"Just the usual. They asked us each if we have found where to spend the close-up and wished us good luck."

"Yeah about that" my father said with some unease in his voice.

"What is wrong?"

"I am afraid you will not be spending it at my office."

"What? Why?"

"Something urgent just came in and I will be traveling outside the country in two days."

"Are you serious?"

"I am afraid so. This matter is urgent and I cannot delay it."

"And what am supposed to do now? It is too late for me to find another one!"

"Do not worry, I got you covered. I spoke with my friend Dave Moore. He accepted but only because I am an old friend of his."

"Dave Moore? You mean that detective? So I will be spending the next 20 days looking for missing people and lost cats!"

"Do not be disrespectful Roy. Besides Dave is a brilliant man. He is surely doing more than that. Trust me you will not regret it. Besides, he is a Sherlockian just like you"

"I did not mean to be disrespectful; it is the sudden change of plans. Dave Moore is indeed a well-known detective, but there are a lot of stories told about him and I am not sure he is a good alternative."

"Do not believe everything you hear, and just as I said he is an old friend and a brilliant man. You might learn a thing or two with him."

As I finished my lunch, I went upstairs without saying much. What can I say anyways, it has already been decided. To be honest, I have spent much time with my dad learning about his job. There is not much to learn now anymore. Still, it would have been better than spending time goofing around playing detective. I love mysteries and I am a big fan of Sherlock Holmes, but those things do not exist in the real world, no one can deduce where you have been or what you do just by looking at you. This close up is going to be a total disaster.

The next Monday, I woke up at 9:00, ate my breakfast got dressed then left the house. My father already left the country so it was just mom and me. The detective's bureau was not very far from our house, so I went there on foot.

On the way, I started thinking about this guy. I have heard stories about him. I can not know for sure if they are true or just false rumors. However, I can assure you they are peculiar indeed. One peaked my interest the most and it goes like this. One time he was walking down the street coming back from his office and heading back home when a man walked by him. He then suddenly attacked the man, dropped him on the ground and asked a couple of girls that were watching to call the cops. When the cops arrived, they asked him why he attacked him. He told them that this guy is the infamous "Galiarde lake butcher". No one believed him at first, the cops called him crazy for his claims. "How could you possibly know this?" they asked, "have you lost your mind?" the guy shouted at him, "I am an innocent man and I have not done anything wrong. You on the other hand are an offender. You attacked me with no right to do so, humiliated me in front of everyone and accused me with no shred of evidence! Officers arrest this man!" The two coppers were forced to do so since he attacked a stranger without conclusive evidence. As they were about to arrest him, he smiled and said: "how do you explain the dirt on your shoes then?."

The man was shocked and seemed like he was caught off guard. "I must have walked in a pond and got myself dirty" he responded.

"A pond you say? That is odd indeed. You agree with me officers? It has not rained in 2 months."

The man seemed like he could not find a way around it.

"And what about those scratches you have on your neck? You seem like you struggled with a very unfriendly cat!" Dave added in a cunning tone. "I am sorry. My eyes must have gone doll. Those are not cat scratches. What you have is more like five deep lines. Some could consider the marks of struggle. If I may ask, were you fighting someone?"

The man lost all color as if he saw a ghost. "How could he know?" he must have thought to himself.

"You are "the Galiarde lake butcher". A serial killer who attacks women late at night. Most of his victims were young nurses going to their night shifts. He attacks them, rapes them and then beats them to death. To get rid of their bodies, he throws them in the Galiarde Lake, hence the name."

Dave walked to the man and grabbed him by his right hand, lifting it up while showing the knuckles, "you have marks of beating on your hand. Can you explain where these came from?"

"We would like to take you with us to the station with us for further questioning, sir." The cops said.

Backed to the corner, with no response to Dave's questions, the man started swinging punches left and right to get out of the situation. Unfortunately for him, the private detective was adept at the arts of self-defense. He had no trouble putting the man on the ground.

I do not know how much of this story is true, but I did not believe it. I loved it as a kid, it reminded me of sherlock, it gave me hope of someday meeting a real-life version of him. But as I grew older It lost all charm. Besides, how could someone notice so much detail in so little time anyways,It just did not seem human to me.

I arrived at the office. It seemed like any other office, nothing out of ordinary for me. I walked up the stairs; his office was on the first floor. I knocked on his door, "come in the door is open" I heard someone screaming from the inside. It must be him. I pushed the door, to see a rather messy place. Papers were scattered all over the place and boxes thrown here and there. Behind the desk, and sitting on the chair, there was a man, holding some papers. He put them down, turned to me slowly. "You must be Roy. Welcome to my humble office." He got off the chair and walked towards me to shake my hands. He was a lean tall man with light skin. He had a messy and light blond hair, with strands framing the sides of his face and between his eyes. He wore an odd striped dark blue and white bucket hat that covered his eyes. As he lifted his head and looked to me, I felt his eyes looking right through me, he had piercing gray eyes.

"What kind of men is this guy?" I thought to myself.

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