Murder At Silver Mills
Prologue
“I promise, I heard screaming, followed by two gunshots,” the estranged woman cried. “It was right down that block! Please! You have to believe me!” She pleaded with the police to listen to her, but they paid no attention to it, for this was Old Lady Constance they were speaking to, infamous for her literally one-minute memory. Little did they know, the Old Lady was not lying this time…
Chapter One: The Detective of the Week
“Hi, Myra! How are you doing today?” Deputy Millie Howell asked in her usual cheery, optimistic tone. Detective Myra Sawyer, however, had endured the worst night ever. “I’m fine,” she grumbled as Millie handed her her cup of morning Dalgona coffee. “Whoa there grumpy pants,” Millie exclaimed as she blocked Myra from entering her office. “You okay?”
“I told you, I'm fine.” Myra pushed past her, but Millie caught her arm again. “Now, with that tone, it's clear you’re not telling the truth. Did you think I would let you away that easily? We’ve been best friends since 4th grade! You know you can trust me by telling me how you feel?” Myra began to protest, but then she realized she had a valid point.
She sighed and said,” I...had a...terrible dream last night,” she started slowly.”It was unlike any I’ve ever experienced. I dreamed that...I saw someone being murdered, and...I couldn’t do anything to save it. It made me feel so...helpless.” Myra shuddered. Millie, being the good friend she was, gently guided her to her office chair. “Myra? Myra, it’s alright. You’re not helpless. Not at all. BFF promise!” Myra managed a weak smile. Millie set her coffee down on her desk and smiled one of her signature smiles; happy, with a hint of mysteriousness mixed in.
Chapter Two: Strike One
Myra was busy with her desk work when she received a call about a crime scene that required her attention; a suspected suicide. Upon arriving at a run-down home in a scrapped neighborhood named Silver Mills, Myra surveyed the crime scene. “An update?” She asked the police officer next to her. “A woman named Constance Caroll, who was unemployed, was found dead in her home after we got an anonymous tip, and, get this,” The police officer said. “She was the only one who lived in Silver Mills. People claim that it was abandoned because of reports of paranormal sightings. A couple of days ago, she called 911 to report hearing screams and two gunshots. We hadn’t believed her back then...I wish we did. She was likely murdered.” “Hmm…” Myra pondered as she slowly walked around the room where Constance lay dead. She remembered the nightmare about a murder just the day before. Was her subconscious trying to connect the dots from her nightmare? Goosebumps pricked her skin. “Was there any weapon recovered from the scene? Any clues?”
“There was a weapon, ma’am. A firearm. We sent it to forensics but they didn’t find any fingerprints on it, nor could we figure out the registered owner. But a note was discovered probably written by her sister, Sharon Caroll. We’re tracking her down as we speak.” The officer handed her a note that was written on a piece of stationery paper patterned with flowers and smiley faces. Myra tried to recall where she had seen that particular pattern but instead, she focused on the words written in beautiful cursive:
Dear friends,
I hereby confess to the murder of Constance Caroll. I murdered her solely because she was drawing attention from me and was the richest between the two of us. By murdering her, I’m able to earn all of her money, which can help me fulfill my dreams of going on a Caribbean cruise and owning the biggest mansion known to the world. I feel no remorse for my actions, and I have gone into hiding. Catch me if you can!
XOXO,
Sharon
Myra nodded. “Okay. Keep me posted on anything else that pops up.” She handed the note.
“Yes ma’am.”
Myra glanced at the body of Constance once more. There was a wound on her left temple, and no other injuries were visible on her body. Something tickled at her brain, and she asked a police officer who was passing by, “Which hand was the gun found in?”
The policeman seemed perplexed by Myra’s question, but he simply replied, “In her right hand, ma’am.”
“What?” Myra exclaimed, hurrying back to Constance’s body. Why would she commit suicide by holding the gun in her right hand and shooting her left temple? Surely she wouldn’t contort her arm around her head in a strange way? It had taken Myra years to become proficient with firearms. It was unusual.
Myra rushed to speak with the police captain and narrated and explained to him what had truly occurred.
Constance had really been murdered. It was not a suicide.
And the killer was still out there.
Watching...Waiting…
Chapter Three: The Unexpected Visitor
“Myra! How did it go?” Millie asked. “Are you feeling any better?” “Yeah, thanks to you,” Myra said. Then, she decided to ask Millie about Constance.“Have you ever heard of a woman named Constance Caroll? She was known for her mental health issues. She was found dead in her home, and likely she was murdered. She was shot in her left temple. Millie? You okay?”
Millie’s large brown eyes grew wider, and there was a trace of emotion in her eyes. Worry? Myra couldn’t tell, because as quickly as it appeared, the quickly it went away. Millie laughed, and said, “Oh Myra. Always suspecting a murderer on the loose. Honestly, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions! You should investigate first.” “Yeah, you’re right.”
Millie grinned and exclaimed, ”Now come on! It’s Friday, which means it’s…”
“Takeout Day!” They theyted in unison. As they both d away, discussing different restaurants, Myra’s mind was no longer on the fact possibility the murderer could walk again....
Myra was sleeping peacefully, without nightmares, when suddenly, she heard an eerie voice in her mind. “Myyrraa…” it called. “Myyrraaaa, waakke uupp…” She shrieked and, in her haste to get out of bed, hit her head on the shelf above. Rubbing her head, she yelled, “Who’s there?”
“I, well, I don’t know.”
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“What’s your name?”
“I can’t just tell you my name willy-nilly! What are you doing, living in my dreams like that?”
“I...honestly don’t know. I don’t even know my name.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know!”
Disoriented, Myra sighed, knowing that this was a futile conversation. “By any chance, can you appear in front of me? It’s a bit confusing talking to you in my head.”
Suddenly, the space in front of her was filled with an ethereal figure, translucent and hovering above ground.
But what startled Myra the most was the figure before her…
Constance Caroll.
“I...I can’t believe this,” Constance’s sister, Sharon looked shocked while being interviewed by the police. “You guys said that she committed suicide, and now...you say it was a murder?! I murdered her?!”
“Yes, ma’am. Our leading detective believes that is the case.”
“But I swear, I didn’t do anything to her! I would never stoop to a level so low.” Myra arrived at the house while Sharon was crying hysterically, emptying out the box of tissues, saying that she would never harm her own sister. When the police led her away, she simply said, ”You are arresting a perfectly innocent person while the culprit is still out there!”
In the interrogation room, Myra interrogates Sharon about Constance, wondering if she had acted strangely in any way, and starts to wonder...what if Sharon’s emotionality was just a ruse to make people think that she wasn’t tied to Constance’s death in any way? Myra was lost in her thoughts while she questioned the next suspect; Constance’s doctor, Dr. Nash Colmer, who had diagnosed Constance with Alzheimer’s disease. Dr. Colmer stated that he knew Constance had issues, and tried to help her, but couldn't do much, and also denied the fact that he had anything to do with the murder. Myra sighed and started to walk out of the room, when the doctor called out, “Wait, Detective. I...I don’t want to lie to the police, so I’ll be honest: Constance never had Alzheimer’s. I only disseminated the rumor because, well, I sorta got greedy. You see, Constance was a wealthy elderly lady, and I was struggling with my practice. When she became one of my patients, I was thrilled, knowing that she would be paying me a substantial amount taking into her her age and condition. However, when the payments were not enough, I sought revenge by spreading rumors about her, ridiculing her, just as how I was ridiculed by other prosperous doctors. Please, I didn’t know well back then. I truly am sorry.” Myra nodded and thanked the doctor, leaving him in the interrogation room for further questions.
“Myra? Could you help me for a second? I am having trouble moving this box.” “Of course, Millie! By the way, your new house is epic! It is so lavish and I love it so much.” Millie laughed, and said, “Thanks, Myra." Myra asked, "Hey, you want to know about the murder investigation so far?” Millie smiled and said, “Yeah, obviously!” Myra couldn’t help noticing that Millie’s smile was quite unusual, but that was probably because she had an important wedding to attend as the maid of honor, and it was a pretty important role. “Well, we interrogated Constance’s sister, Sharon, and she looked so overly emotional, and it looked kind of fake. We also questioned Constance’s doctor, and turns out-”
“That Constance’s memory was absolutely fine and they were all just rumors?” Millie cuts Myra by saying but abruptly falls silent.
Myra was shocked that Millie was able to guess so accurately. “That’s...all we’ve got so far, yeah.”
In the dark of a new moon, she called out for Constance, and lo and behold, she materialized in front of her. “So, I...suppose you know about my memory issues?” She shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry. Even if I tried to explain to people, they wouldn’t listen anyway.” Myra accepted her apology and asked about Sharon. “Oh, Sharon? That woman is simply greedy. I don’t know how long she has waited for me to perish peacefully just so that she can inherit my wealth. But you can let her off the hook. She didn’t even know where I lived. I just lied to her that I lived in a gigantic mansion in the suburbs. She never found me. However, I have some riddles in stock for you, dear Myra. For some reason, my memory isn’t allowing me to remember the exact name of the actual perpetrator, but if you solve these riddles, I bet you can identify my killer. Care to work your brain?”
“Be sure to write your answers down! Okay, to begin with; I make two people out of one; what am I?” Myra thought for a second before answering. “Ooh, I know! It’s-”
“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t say it out loud! Write it down!” Constance waved urgently toward the notepad Myra had with her. “Oh, right!” Quickly, Myra wrote the answer down:
Mirror
Chapter Six: In the Darkness
Sharon toiled silently, diligently chipping away at the wall, her frown deepening when she realized that her very expensive manicure was getting ruined. Nevertheless, she moved on.
After working for about an hour, she finally made a tunnel that allowed her to go to the other side of the wall, leading her out of her cell. “You still remember the plan?” The figure in a black cloak whispered. “Yes, of course,” Sharon said exasperatedly.
“Then let us proceed while being as quiet and still...as a dead body.”
“Well! This is...quite thrilling. I thought you were working on the Crazy Lady case?”
“Oh, that’s what it’s called now? But yes, our boss thinks I have been somewhat of a “slacker” lately, not realizing I have been working day and night on Constance’s case. Honestly, I wonder why I took this job.” “Aww, you want to leave me behind with a bunch of workaholics? I thought I was your best friend!” “You are,” Myra said with a smile. “Why would I ever leave you behind?”
Millie smiled that mysterious smile again. “You never know.”
“Alright, Myra, ready for your next riddle?” “Yep! I’ve got my notepad and pen ready! By the way, I wanted to tell you that somehow, all of your money was stolen from your mansion. I’m sorry about that.” “Oh, it’s all right. Besides, what use is money now that I’m a ghost? It isn’t your fault, Myra. Now let’s see…” Constance adopted a serious and focused expression. “What is shaped like a tube, is warm and drippy, and gets taken out at night?” Myra, having heard this riddle before could answer even faster than the first one:
Candle
Chapter Seven: The Last Pieces of the Puzzle
Days passed, and Myra continued for the third riddle but was unable to connect with Constance. She kept calling for her at night, at work, anytime she could, but there was no response. She toyed with the idea of calling her co-workers for help (one of them even claimed to be a necromancer who could communicate with ghosts-Myra didn’t know if this was true), but she ultimately decided to wait it out. Constance was a ghost, after all. She couldn’t be harmed physically.
On the fourth day of waiting, Constance finally reappeared after Myra had summoned her for the 256th time (Myra had been counting), and Constance apologized, saying that her sister Sharon had escaped from her cell and Constance had to go to chastise her by reappearing in her dreams as a big, ugly monster. Teasing, Constance went on with the riddle, “I start in little, but I end in full. What am I?”
Myra wrote:
L
For the past few weeks, Myra gathered the answers to all of the questions, and the answers were:
Mirror
Candle
L
Ink
Lightbulb
Towel
Indigo
Elephant
Noon
“What’s next?” Myra asked Constance. This doesn’t make any sense to me. What do these words have in common?” “I’m afraid I don’t know that…" And just like that she vanished, leaving Myra with meaningless words.
Or were they?
Chapter Eight: The Solution and Truth
“Hey, Constance,” Myra said during her nightly conversation with the ghost. “I can't believe I'm talking with a ghost,” Myra thought, realization sinking in but quickly shifted to asking, “You mentioned a couple days ago about your sister, Sharon, breaking out of her cell? Was she working with someone?” “As a matter of fact, she was. While the police were investigating, I did some sleuthing myself. I saw this figure in a black cloak fleeing the scene. I followed them, but they disappeared without a trace.” “I see. So Sharon did write that note?” “Yeah. The police charged her with murder, but I think she was just an accomplice. She was the one who pretended to scream at the beginning of this whole mess. I recognized her voice.” “Hmm…” Myra directed her attention to her notepad. “Well, thank you, Constance. Can I see you tomorrow?” Constance smiled and said, “Certainly.”
Myra racked her brain. She arranged the words in every possible way, but no solution. At work, Millie came up to her and asked, “Myra, you seem the teensiest bit distracted today. Everything alright?” “Yeah, it’s just...I’ve been trying to figure something out that can help us solve the case.” “I see. Well, you didn’t have breakfast today, right? How about some scrambled eggs?” Millie quickly covered her mouth with her hands as if she had something she didn’t want to say.
What? Myra thought. Why was she behaving so strangely? “Uh, yeah. I’ll...have some scrambled eggs.”
Myra gazed at the words intently and smacked her forehead when she realized how to unscramble the word. She had been complicating it far too much! Ensuring that Millie wasn’t around, she carefully rearranged the first letters of the words:
MILLICENT
“It’s...It’s...Millie? Millicent’s her...her full name... I need to inform the captain as quickly as possible!” She rushed out of her office and realized she possibly had bought her expensive house with the stolen cash. Before leaving the room, though, she noticed the things on Millie’s desk.
There lay the same patterned paper, with flowers and smiley faces, another clue linking her to the investigation....all things and none seemed clear.
Confronting her boss, Myra with a weighted heart explained, “So that’s how I uncovered the murderer’s identity, by conversing with Constance’s ghost. I realize this sounds strange, but you need to believe me. In fact, she’s right here now.” Unable to prove her existence, Myra continued stating that they had discovered bags of cash concealed within the walls of Millie’s new residence, money stolen from Constance’s lavish mansion (one of her many properties), and that they had just taken her into custody. Myra felt a deep sadness for not being able to assist Millie in overcoming her intense anxiety to be perfect and content all the time, even when she was struggling financially and her job was her only remaining anchor. Because of this, Millie had turned to murdering one of the wealthiest individuals in town whose existence she thought didn't matter, with the aid of Sharon, who was eager to inherit Constance’s riches. They planned to divide the stolen funds equally, which would cover all of their essential needs and provide support for the long term. Myra quietly cried, reflecting on what more she might have to give up beyond losing a cherished friend...her best friend.
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