If you know me in the 'real-world'... Keep it to yourself.

Do NOT tell my friends and family about this blog!

This blog is a work in progress. Eventually, when it grows up, it wants to look pretty. Or maybe dark and dangerous.

Hmm... well come back later and see for yourself...

If you want to contact me but are a) too chicken to leave a public comment and
b) too lazy to look up my email address from my profile
use the form below.

Email Address:

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

3 points of view

This is the third of a set of four stories I wrote over the past year and a half.

The first two are already up. They aren't connected so you don't need to read the other two, but if you want to, just click on the 'Fiction' label to the left.



Three Points of View

He walked slowly across the room. A man who looked twice as old as he actually was. He passed a mirror on the wall and grimaced as he saw his reflection. No wonder people shrank from him. Hollow cheeks, eyes too big for his face, he looked like a skeleton with skin stretched over his frame.

Maybe that’s why she’d killed herself. Tired of being married to a sick man. Tired of watching him die every day. In front of her eyes.

But the cops were so sure she’d been murdered... He shook his head angrily in disbelief. Murdered. Who’d want to murder her? It was ridiculous. He’d seen his fair share of murders when he’d been a young detective all those years ago. Greed, revenge, love. Those were the emotions that powered murders. And all three were absent here. Lydia had been penniless when they’d gotten married. Sure she’d get his money when he died but here he was. Alive and well. Ok, so maybe he wasn’t well, but he still was a long way from the grave.

Revenge? She was 23. Who could she have hurt so badly? Who could have been so angry at her to want to kill her?

That left love. He grimaced. That was probably on the cop’s minds from the moment they’d seen the body and met him. They were probably convinced she’d had a lover who’d killed her. Of course they wouldn’t tell him that. But that’s what they were thinking. He was sure of it. They’d paw through her personal diary and scheduler. Looking for evidence of an affair.

Lucky he’d found her diary and letters last night. Full of her love for him. Full of her sorrow at the lingering illness that would part them one day. He’d burnt them. The diary and every last letter. All her thoughts that she’d never intended to share with the world.

He smiled wistfully. If he’d ever doubted her love, reading the diary would have made him feel ashamed of himself. As it was, it had made him cry. A bitter reminder of all he’d had and all he’d lost.

He sat in his favourite chair and stared out the window.


Detective Johnson looked across the room at the man in the easy chair looking out the window. A very poor actor. Trying to pretend he was grieving for his wife. Well they’d nail him. He was the only person with access to the apartment. None of the locks had been forced. Nothing was out of place. No unexpected fingerprints had been found. The poor fool had probably found out that she was planning to leave him. That must have been the last straw. Lucky the kid had blurted it out. Funny thing. A man with a 16 year old son marrying a woman of 23. The kid had been glad for his father’s sake until he found out that she was having an affair. He was so worried they’d think his dad did it; he’d gone out of his way to convince them that his father didn’t even know about the affair, not realizing that they themselves hadn’t known anything about it.

Funny the way things worked out. The kid had been trying to save his dad but had actually provided the missing link. The motive. Of course they’d look for a diary or something but he didn’t expect to find anything. She wrote regularly in her diary. That much he’d learnt from her friends and family. That was probably how the old man had found out. But he knew how these things worked. He’d probably burnt the dairy.


The boy sat and watched the detective. What was he looking at? The boy couldn’t see. What was he thinking? The boy didn’t know.

Lydia was dead. He could hardly believe it. Lydia the bitch was dead. She’d taken his father away from him. His father would never have been as harsh as he’d become if it wasn’t for her. They’d refused to send him to the National academy of Drama. Said he’d be a terrible actor. And now they’d planned to send him away to military school. To instill some discipline into his life! Yeah right.

Well she’d gotten what she deserved. Now all he had to do was wait and watch. Anytime now the warrant would be issued against his old man. Based on his testimony. He would be shocked and horrified. He would run and hug his father and swear that he believed in his innocence. He would swear to do everything he could to free him.

He sat and prepared for the part of a lifetime.



Anonymous said...

SO who did it?

KD13 said...

S'grace - It's interesting. Though I didn't start out with anyone particular in mind, by the end I was pretty sure who was responsible. But apparently it isn't so clear to anyone else. :) Everybody who reads it seems to have a different idea about it.

Who do you think 'did it'?

Anonymous said...

the butler?

KD13 said...

@ Cousin S - your attention to detail is commendable.