(Chapter 2: https://saragawde.com/chapter-2/)
Asher
At six in the morning the next day, Asher walked down the creaking floorboards of the inn with his hands stuffed in his pockets, his scarf slung over his neck, and his back hunched forward, towards the incoming stairs. “Wait, we need to take Miss Jones with us.” George snapped at him, slapping his shoulder. Asher shook him off, turning around annoyed. “Oh, forget it.”
The sound of a door unlocking turned their attention towards it. Out stepped Avery. A woman of around twenty Asher assumed, with glistening blonde hair that curled effortlessly down to her shoulders. She wore a long purple coat, her fingers turning white on its seams, and black boots growing deep into her attire. She turned to them, her eyebrows raised as she acknowledged them. “I got the message last night about the interview at a quarter past 6, thanks Liam.”
She smiled, her icy blue eyes lifting before falling into the careful features of her face. Pretty? Sure. Alex turned away, rolling his eyes.
***
Interview with Mr. Reilly, one of the villagers in some hearing proximity to Rebecca Wright.
Asher: Good morning Mr Reilly, let’s begin with this interview then, shall we? (smiles at the camera with a thumbs up)
Mr Reilly: Go ahead kid, whatever you need, but make it quick. I have to cook breakfast for the wife and kids soon (breathless from his run he just returned from)
Asher: Do you know of any roommates Mrs. Wright had had? A resident besides herself in her house?
Mr Reilly: No. If anyone in this village had come across her, anywhere. I think I speak for all of us when i say, she was never a people’s person. She didn’t like the women in the village and she despised the men. The only time she ever got out was for grocery shopping, when she’d give the kids a chocolate or two, and a rare smile before returning to her monotone composure. She was always like that, married, widowed, whatever. Nobody from the village has ever entered the house, and its far less likely for anyone else to get in without us finding out. From the station, through the village, and into the lake is the only way to get to her house. She had no children. So, if i become a bit of a detective myself, there was no one in that house except her.
Asher: (nods) Was she fond of kids?
Mr Reilly: I’m not really sure, but i do know the kids were fond of her. She didn’t like conversation with anyone though. Mostly just did her job and left, burrowing in her house. Never caused any trouble either though, she was just a bit of a, people avoider I would say.
Asher: On the night of her death, did you hear any sounds coming from the lakehouse, or see anything? Anything out of the blue at all? Since you are at closest proximity to her house.
Mr Reilly: (sips water) Nothing. The village is too far from her house for us to be in hearing or sighting vicinity. Honestly, I feel like its her fault. Women should never be living alone in isolation like that, its too dangerous. I know English forests are dead and all, but you never know, there’s burglars and nasty people in this village who would swim to get her alone.
Asher: Lastly, do you know what grocery store Rebecca-
Mr Reilly: Wait, there was one thing. I heard noises, loud, unearthly ones from the forest. So did my wife. I swear, it sounded a lot like foxes fighting. They carried on for like, ten minutes, and then silenced. We finally got some sleep then. I’m sorry, you were saying?
Asher: Nevermind. Thank you so much, this interview has been vital.
Fin.
***
That’s what Asher had told every of the 12 village houses he’d interviewed, ‘this interview has been vital’, when infact, he’d just got the same answers from almost all of them. They’d spent the whole day doing this, listening to people claim to having heard cats, others speaking of bats or dogs, and quite rarely someone announced with full confidence that they’d heard wolves crying out into the night.
“Did you get anything from the grocer?” Asher asked Liam. There was only one grocery store in the village. “Nothing, no recent check in from the victim either. The last check in Rebecca had made had been 50 days ago, 20 days before the grocery shop’s new owner’s mother died. She used to run the shop before her.”
Asher shook his head, looking around at the brick village houses sprouting flowers on the walls. “So her mother died 30 days ago?”
“Yeah.” Liam replied.
Avery stood with her arms folded infront of her, a concentrated expression on her face. Her blonde hair looked fuzzy in the setting Sun’s light, and her brown eyes worried. Asher squinted. “You taking notes, aren’t you? You’ve been following me like a tail since today morning.”
Avery looked up at him. “I follow anyone who has information.”
Asher felt something shove his shoulder, causing him to fall slightly off balance, but he caught himself. A man in an activewear jacket looked back at him, his eyes panicked. “Sorry. Are you ok?” He asked, his hands infront of him in caution as he turned around, still jogging backwards and away.
Asher nodded. “I’m good, just watch where you’re running.”
The man nodded and kept going. Asher could have sworn he heard Avery chuckle.
“What now?” Liam asked.
He looked at the evening sky, the dipping red circle above waved a goodbye to him, darkness engulfing as it disappeared slowly. “Now, we go back to the inn and review the clips we got today.”
***
In his room, Asher was in his pyajamas, going through the pockets of his trench coat, trying to find some money for a tip over his dinner. When his hands crunched against something. His stomach flipped and he turned to see Liam on one of the twin beds, in a serpent like posture as he texted on his phone.
Asher hid the trench coat with his body, his back completely encasing the pocket as he pulled out what had touched his hand. A scrunched up note.
“Hey! Look what Hazel sent me, its a meme of Mr PomPoms as an Italian mafia boss.” Liam said, his voice breaking into a laugh. Mr Pompoms was their cat, Hazel their housemaid.
Asher uncurled the note in his hand, his eyes running over it multiple times as his mouth curved into a smirk.
Meet me on the far side of the lake, on the village shore. There’ll be a fishing basket marking the place. I have information, but I can’t share it with you unless we’re in private. -The runner
(Chapter 3: https://saragawde.com/chapter-3/)