Chapter 4

I jolt upwards with a gasp and look around me. I'm not lying on the floor in the Watson household however, I'm back in my office. Lying next to me is my daughter, unconscious but at a glance, thankfully alive. I crawl over to her and shake her, trying to wake her up. She's up almost instantly, which gives me some relief, she can't have been hit that hard.

"What happened here? How am I even here, I was just at the Watsons household a moment ago I swear. And… and something else happened, but I can't remember it. It's probably nothing."

"I-I'm not exactly sure what happened. You came back without Henry and out of breath and someone came from behind and knocked you out. They hit me too, but I didn't go out right away. And I-I think they killed Mr. Watson, I was fading in and out, but I think they got to him."

I scratch my head and make my way to the other room where Mr. Watson was before. He was lying next to the chair by the door and just like Mrs. Watson's body, only a small pool of blood was around him. I knelt down and immediately went to check his neck, and my suspicions were confirmed. The same type of cut as before, shallow and clean. But this one seemed to be different from the one I saw before. Much more precisely placed so as to kill the victim as soon as possible. Someone different took out Mr. Watson, someone more experienced, perhaps the killer's mentor or senior. This was puzzling, was it perhaps two people working together, or were they completely separate?

At least I knew that Mr. Watson was cleared of the murder. That narrowed it down to Henry or some outside force. I couldn't trust Henry to answer my questions truthfully, so I'd have to do more digging around by myself. This was quite possibly one of the most confusing cases I'd ever taken on. 

I collapsed into my leather chair and loosened my belt. On top of the case, there was that period of time where I had run to the office without being aware. Normally this was something I'd pay keen attention to but the double murders kept it off my mind. I was retrieving a handkerchief from my drawer to wipe the sweat off my face when Henry barrelled through the door. 

His face was sheen with sweat and he was panting heavily. It looked like he had run full speed all the way from the house. Without glancing anywhere else he went straight over to me and crumpled onto the desk coughing. 

"Where, where is the master? You disappeared from the house when I wasn't looking so I assumed you might have found something out. So anyways, where is he anyway I don't see him."

Without saying anything I pointed behind him towards the door. He whipped around and stood still momentarily before rushing over to the body. He shook Mr. Watson a few times before standing up and turning towards. There was murderous intent in his eyes and he narrowed it right at me.

"Was it you? Did you kill him when you came back from the house? I bet it was you who killed both my masters. You killed him because he found something out didn't you? What are you getting out of this, a bounty, reputation?"

"Nothing Henry nothing, because I didn't kill him, the real killer is still out there on the loose. If anything I've had my suspicions that you killed Mrs. Watson, not out of malice, but because you stole her jewelry didn't you? You had to shut her up somehow and killing her was probably the easiest option. I bet you were right on my tail and you knocked me and my daughter out, killing Mr. Watson and then leaving to run in like an innocent man."

"It all clicks together Henry, who else would be able to get so close to Mrs. Watson without her putting her guard up. And that can in the garbage bin, the chicken soup one? I checked the lid and the edge was stained with blood. Mr. Watson accused you of the murder when he saw you in the room and I bet he was right about that. You had to take him out before he stopped being hysterical and started thinking clearly. I'm right aren't I? But let's be reasonable here and just talk it out like adults ok?"

Henry backed away from me, and stumbled on something before regaining his balance. He was looking at me with not murder but fear in his eyes now. He seemed to be confused and a little muddled as if processing something. Pulling out a knife now with his unsteady hands he pointed it at me. The shiny metal shook in the light as he trembled and tremored. Backing away slowly, he pushed open the door with his back to the outside. He bolted out to the busy square disappearing into the crowd leaving nothing behind but the hood he was wearing this morning.