Crime Scene

“Ring a ring of roses… pockets full of doses.”

A breath. Heavy. Close. Too close.

“Mah! Mah!” — the child gasped, calling for her mother.

“I stab, stab…”

A smile creeping.

“…and you all fall down.”

The window slammed open.

Small hands clawed at the sill.

The child was dragged forward.

“Come… let’s play.”

She fell into silence.

Present — The Villa

The police cars pulled up to the gates. Detectives stepped out, notebooks already in hand, their eyes sharp, scanning the grounds.

The villa in Fitta rose from the street like a quiet sentinel. Its walls were soft light brown, worn slightly by sun and time. Heavy iron gates framed the entrance, creaking whenever the wind nudged them.

The garden spread into four neat squares, separated by stone footpaths, all leading to a fountain at the center. The water rose and fell, soft and steady, as if the house itself was breathing — or pretending to.

Inside, the household moved with practiced calm. A father with folded hands, a mother clutching composure like a shield, and three sisters, the youngest now absent from the world she had inhabited.

The extended family lived here too: an uncle, two grandparents, and staff who maintained the house with quiet efficiency — two chefs, three housemaids, and a gardener.

The girl was already gone — her body taken to forensics.

On the wet ground, a white outline marked where she had fallen. Rain had blurred the edges, streaking the chalk into the mud, but the shape remained — small, fragile, lying flat on her back.

Sirius stood over it, his eyes hard.

“Rain smears the blood… but never hides it.”

Zoro’s voice came next, low, filled with disappointment.

“A nine-year-old. This time… it’s a child.”

He was younger than the other two, not yet hardened to every kind of horror. Some deaths still struck him too deeply.

Lihar stared without expression, his words flat as stone.

“Death is an inevitable truth.”

Above them, the third-floor window still gaped open, curtains twisting in the damp wind, as if mocking the silence below.

Kyrokuto approached, his notes in hand.

“She had flour on her neck. Possible undetectable fingerprints. Cause of death confirmed — the fall. Just received word from Raz.”

Zoro stepped forward, glancing back toward the villa.

“I spoke to a few of the family members and staff. Bit odd, sir… but there are rumors. A ghost lady, they say, lingering around the house.”

Lihar’s eyes sharpened, impatience clear in his tone. “CCTV?”

The officer nearby shifted uneasily. “Unfortunately, none. The father’s a traditional man — he doesn’t trust cameras. But… they do have voice recorders installed. Said they’ve been experiencing paranormal disturbances for about a month now.”

Sirius’s gaze stayed fixed on the window above.

“Zoro, go and get the voice recorder data ready. I need to hear it

3rd Floor — Crime Room

They set up the device on a small table. Sirius pressed play.

“Ring a ring of roses… pockets full of doses.”

“Mah! Mah!”

A jagged scream tore through the speaker — “Aahhhaaggh.”

The room descended into silence.

Zoro staggered back, clutching his stomach. He bent over and vomited, unable to digest the horror of the crime this time.

Kyrokuto cleared his throat.

“Sirius… the reason we’re listening to this here, in the very room…”

Sirius’s lips curved into a faint, grim line.

“What better way to actually experience it ourselves?”

From the second floor came muffled cries — the mother and the remaining sisters, inconsolable.

The father stood apart, still, like a dam holding back a river of grief, unyielding even as the walls around him shook with sorrow.

Lihar’s eyes swept over the gathered family members.

“I’m interrogating the suspects myself this time.”

Kyrokuto stepped beside him.

“Don’t have a choice. Someone has to keep you from menacing the rest of their existence.”

Sirius’s voice came from the doorway.

“Zoro and I are going to tour the bungalow. There’s nothing left in that room for us.”

Zoro, still dizzy from vomiting, sipped water and followed Sirius.

Sirius reached into the inner pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a lollipop, holding it out like a small child.

“Sweeten your mouth. The case isn’t going to get any sweeter.”

Zoro blinked, hesitant, and took it.

More than the idiotic analogy, the grandfather was shocked by the fact that Sirius had a lollipop in his jacket. His eyes lingered on the small candy like it was evidence of some hidden absurdity.

Sirius grinned, still holding the lollipop forward.

“That was impolite of me… Mr Grandpa, you want one too?”

The grandfather chuckled, shaking his head.

“Appreciate it, but my diabetes won’t allow it.”

The bungalow was calm and orderly. Wide wooden-floored hallways led past tall windows with swaying curtains, walls lined with paintings and neatly arranged trinkets. The airy living room featured high ceilings, patterned rugs, and sofas around the fireplace, faintly scented with polished wood and old paper. Nothing unusual stood out.

At the end of the tour, the grandfather smiled at Sirius.

“You’ve got a keen eye,” he said. “A sincere detective"

Sirius nodded and unusually, he wasn’t suspicious.

At the time of the incident, the family had been gathered in the living room, discussing the elder sister’s upcoming marriage.

The nine-year-old victim had quietly slipped away to fetch her doll, unaware of what awaited her.

One chef was tidying in the kitchen, while the other chef and two housemaids had taken the day off. One housemaid stayed in the living room, ready to serve the family’s needs.

Lihar looked at Sirius, drowned with thoughts.

“During the investigation, something curious came up — an old tale the family remembered. It’s about a woman who lost her own child centuries ago. She wanders from house to house, leaving dolls for the youngest children. Those who play with the dolls… they see things, hear stories, sometimes even get drawn toward danger.”

He glanced at the antique doll the nine-year-old had been carrying.

“This little girl… her doll was one of those. The family says she loved it dearly. Perhaps it’s what inspired her, or perhaps it’s what drew her to the window.”

Sirius intrigued but cautious,spoke.

“So the legend wasn’t just a story… it may have left traces here.”

“I need Nilo. Save the doll for him.”

Nilo, unsurprisingly, was waiting in one of the police vehicles outside, hidden from view so no one could see him. Zoro, wearing gloves, carefully carried the antique doll to him.

Kyrokuto raised an eyebrow.

“What is he… a voodoo-doll analyst?”

The sisters whispered to Zoro.

“She had gloves… I think they were cream-colored,” one said, recalling the shadowy figure.

“No, they were white,” the mother said calmly, as if correcting a small mistake.

The sisters nodded, agreeing — after all, all they had seen were vague, wicked shadows. The father, uncle, and grandfather murmured in agreement as well that they were white; everyone seemed certain, though none could describe more than the fleeting shapes they had seen.

Zoro studied their body movements carefully — the slight hesitation of the sisters, the calm rigidity of the father, and the mother’s subtle memory. Nothing overt, just small gestures, yet a faint, almost invisible clue lingered in the back of his mind.

They all gathered again, tension hanging in the air.

Lihar broke the silence.

“How are we going to catch it this time?”

Kyrokuto and Zoro both turned to Sirius, staring as if he were a judge in a courtroom.

Sirius smiled calmly.

“Simple… I became friends with Mr. Grandpa, and he’ll let the—”

“Absolutely no, nephew! Don’t even!” Kyrokuto cut him off before he could finish.

Zoro swallowed hard, more terrified than the victim’s family ever had been.

“He’ll let the four of us stay, along with a few patrol officers, for their safety!” Sirius finished the sentence like the last line of a race.

“Very well! Just so you know, I’m not sleeping on the couch!” Lihar added as if that was more important than the fact they were spending the night in a haunted bungalow.