The Case of the Missing Arm (#01)
The soft blanket of silence which had been trying to lure Lorie into a dreamless sleep for the past few hours suddenly broke apart with loud barking. Lorie rubbed her eyes and sat up slowly. Her dainty bedroom, one of the smallest rooms in the Winston manor, was a moonlit stage for dancing shadows. Once more the barking erupted from outside and Lorie sighed and shuffled to the window. A floor below, in the back garden, was Apple, a rather excitable collie who was now yanking at her chain which was tied to the kennel. She seemed to barking at something Lorie could only assume to be a squirrel or a rabbit that had decided to go for a walk. Apple always did bark at every little animal she saw. Lorie ran her hands through her strawberry blonde hair and tiredly glanced at the clock. 4:40 am. With the big annual party Mr.Charles Winston was throwing today, she might as well stay up and start chores immediately. Checking back once more to see if Apple had calmed down (she was now laying down with her ears perked up, ready for any other nightly events) Lorie stumbled back into bed and didn’t wake up until her alarm went off at 5, not hearing the muffled screams of Mr. Charles Winston himself, as he was slowly ripped apart not too far from the mansion.
*** ***
“Your tea, sir.”
Atticus nodded without looking up from his newspaper. It was a bright saturday morning, and as usual the newspaper was being quickly devoured by Atticus’ hungry eyes. As Samuel, the family butler, had stated countless times, information might as well be served to Atticus in the place of a meal and he would be able to thrive with no problems. And Atticus agreed. It fascinated him to no end, the amount of things he didn’t know and the amount of new things always turning up to be learned. He wanted to know everything, no matter how small, and was grateful his brain could keep up with the knowledge, for there was no fact that left his mind once it had been entered.
“Top bidder and businessman Thomas Stevenson commits suicide at age 54…” murmured Atticus, stirring in some milk and sugar, “Found dead in office on friday…poison pills found in desk…”
“A shame,” commented Samuel, shaking his head sadly, “That is where it gets you, Master Atticus, to be chasing wealth. I hope I am not serving tea to that kind of man in a few years.” He added with a twinkle in his eye. Atticus grinned and took a sip of his tea.
“We both know what kind of wealth I prefer, Samuel.” He said tapping his head, “Now then, would you kindly inform me of my schedule for today?”
“Right away, sir. Botany, 2 pm. Meeting with the famous chemist, Franklin Bursby at 4:30. A play you wanted to see which starts at 6. And you are free after that it seems.”
“Fantastic.”
“Now sir, I’m not saying all your studying is a bad thing-”
“Oh here he goes…” Atticus muttered, shoving a small muffin into his mouth and heading towards the door.
“But you really should have a bit of social life as well you know!”
“I voo, Famuel.” Mumbled Atticus with his mouth full, “I’m meeping up wiv people aren’t I?”
“Yes, but those hardly count as friends, sir. Why, I’ve seen you forcibly escort the last botanist out of the house because she had told nothing new to tell you any more!”
“Yes, so what was the use of her then?” Atticus went into the large living room which was now bathed in sunlight pouring in from the large windows that reached from the floor to ceiling. Outside in the garden were several plants and trees, some in a greenhouse, while others clung to the wall of the house, making themselves comfortable in their new homes. Around the living room were several big bird cages full of creatures from distant lands and varying in sizes, colours and songs that now filled the room with a gentle melody. Samuel sighed in frustration as Atticus went around checking on them, quite convinced that he had won the argument.
“Master Atticus!” a servant entered the living room with a hurried curtsy, “Mr. Shutter is here to see you. Would you like me to inv-”
Before she finished speaking, in came a raggedy looking man in his thirties, with a head full of overgrown black hair and a smile that would make children panic. Basil Shutter was an investigator at the local police station, and had given himself the role of Atticus’ best friend, much to Samuel’s disapproval. He was the opposite of a role model but paired with Atticus, he had taken credit for a few solved cases that were now the only achievements protecting him from getting fired. He strolled towards Atticus with his arms out and wrapped him in a quick hug.
“Atticus! My man! How are you doing?” he asked cheerfully.
“Well-” Atticus spluttered, quite taken aback by his foul breath.
“Splendid! Listen, buddy, I need your help.” Shutter’s smile disappeared and he shoved Atticus down in a chair. Sitting across from him, he said in a hushed voice, “There’s been an…accident, at Winston Manor.”
“An accident?” Atticus’ eyes went wide and in the back Samuel grumbled “I’ll get more tea then…” and went out of the room.
Shutter took out a black notebook (with quite an obvious large coffee stain that had sunk through onto the pages) and read out loud his almost illegible writing. Atticus leaned forward with full attention.
“Charles Winston was found passed out in the forest behind Winston Manor at 5:35 am with a bear trap snapped shut on his leg. He was discovered by one of the servants in the manor who had been walking the dog until it broke away and ran into the forest. He followed it and discovered Winston lying bloody on the ground- dear god man, what are you looking excited for?”
“I’m sorry!” Atticus seemed shocked at himself, “It’s just interesting. And terrible, of course. Charles Winston…” he closed his eyes for a minute, “The famous adventurer who collects antiques and food from worldwide. If I’m not mistaken, his annual party is tonight?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. He came back from his trip to Africa a week ago.”
“Well, how is he now?”
“He was taken to the hospital. There’s been a lot of blood loss and lying outside in the cold morning didn’t help, it’s a miracle he’s still alive. And that's not even the most interesting part.”
“Oh?”
Shutter leaned forward.
“Whatever did this, took off Winston's whole right arm.”
“His whole arm?”
“Yep.” Shutter took his cup of tea from Samuel, “Absolutely nowhere to be found.”
“Could an animal have attacked him while he was stuck in the bear trap?”
“Well, yeah but the cut up shoulder shows marks that could have been left with a knife. And there wasn't any sign of blood that would have appeared as the animal walked off with the arm, nor were there bloody animal prints. No one heard Winston screaming either, even though the crime scene is near the manor.”
“Interesting...”
“Right?” chuckled Shutter, gulping down the tea, “Thought you'd like to know and it also seemed suspicious to me, so I came around to inform ya.”
“Oh, well thank you. In any case, Samuel, please cancel everything on my schedule today. And send Mr. Bursby a small gift as an apology, thank you. Now then, Shutter, how about you and I go pay Mr. Winston a visit?”
“Whatever it takes to ride in that fancy car of yours,” Shutter grinned, getting up. Within ten minutes they were both riding towards the hospital where Mr. Winston had been hospitalized.
To their surprise however, the room Charles Winston was in was busy with blue-clad police officers. As soon as they stepped in the hall, an officer came out of the room to greet Shutter.
“Sir, we were just about to contact you,” he said gravely, “Charles Winston passed away a few moments ago at exactly 10:08 am. He was hospitalized too late.”
“Ah shit.” Shutter cursed, “We wanted to get some information out of him at least.”
“Well sir, right before he passed away he was murmuring a few words.”
“What was he saying?” Atticus asked as they walked into the room.
“I have written it down…here it is.”
Atticus took the paper from the officer and he and Shutter read it aloud.
It was a monster…He came for revenge…I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have done it…
“A monster, eh?” Shutter grumbled, “Big help that is.”
“Whatever attacked him must have looked quite strange to earn that description.” Atticus muttered thoughtfully.
“What about the revenge and ‘I shouldn’t have done it’ part?” Shutter inquired curiously. Atticus shrugged.
“All will be revealed in due time I suppose.” he said in his usual quiet voice, looking over the dead man’s body. He had thin and graying hair, a wrinkled face now contorted with a permanent expression of intense pain. After putting on some latex gloves, Atticus lifted up the sleeve of his left arm and whistled. It was covered from fingers to shoulder with different tattoos. Tattoos of flowers, birds, symbols and strange mythical looking creatures.
“I heard he gets one or two from each place he goes to” Shutter commented, leaning against the wall, “I’ll bet anything the other arm was covered too.”
“You there, officer. Where’s the doctor? I’d like to speak with him about this.”
“Yes, I’m here,” spoke up a young man in a white coat holding a notepad.
“Is there anything unusual about the wound, doctor?” Atticus asked, walking around to Charle Winston’s right side and studying his cut up shoulder.
“Well, the arm itself disappearing is unusual enough but,” the doctor pointed around the man’s shoulder, “There were several deep cuts around there. As if his arm was being hacked to pieces blindly. It’s quite a gruesome sight as you can see. It’s very messy, could be sharp teeth or a large knife.”
“Hmmm.” Atticus pulled something small and yellow out of the victim’s hair.
“What is it?” Shutter asked curiously.
“Seems like a fragment of cloth. cotton, to be exact. It might help us out later.” Leaning up, Atticus strode towards the door with his hands in his pockets, “Now then, Shutter, I do think it’s time we head to the crime scene itself.”
Atticus had disappeared around the corner before Shutter had time to register what he had said. Shaking his head, he jogged to keep up with Atticus.
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