Writing Prompt: The last piece clicked into place.

Today, there is finally sun in the sky. I woke up and didn’t feel as though I was sliding out of bed too early because the sun was actually in the sky before I was awake. It was glorious. Do you know what is even better? The current temperature is only 52 degrees. That’s right, the sun brought cooler temps after the rain. I know it shouldn’t be a surprise but this summer seemed to just stretch on forever. Signs that it might actually end are very encouraging. So with a happy feeling in my heart, it is time to start the morning writing prompt. Ready?

Apparently happy feelings in my heart lead to murder. Not entirely certain why that is. Or why my writing seems to be leaning in murderous directions recently anyway. Something to think about later I expect.

Thursday, September 23rd: The last piece clicked into place.

The last piece clicked into place. “He wasn’t boarding the train, he was getting off of the train,” Edmond said to himself.  It was brilliant.  He looked to his corkboard and at the timeline he established with the facts he knew. 

“This changes everything,” he whispered to himself.  He picked up a pen and drew a line through the information under Geoff’s information. He quickly added the new piece of information and adjusted the time table.  He dropped the pen on the desk and stepped back to look at his board again.  It fit.  Perfectly. 

Geoff’s alibi was gone.  Not only had he the greatest motive for wanting Sir Walter dead, but now he had ample time to do it.

“That’s it,” He shouted.  “I know who did it.”

He was elated.  The police thought he was just an overwrought grieving family member looking for details that didn’t exist.  They thought he was wrong about it being a murder at all since absolutely no one  who benefited could have done it.  They thought it was just some bizarre accident.  But he always knew Sir Walter’s death was no accident and now the police would have to take him seriously.  He went to his desk and pulled a notebook close.  He wrote his findings down on the page so that if the police refused to let him in he could at least pass a message to the investigative unit.  They wouldn’t know his writing and might think it an anonymous tip.

He raced out of his study, making certain to lock the door behind himself.  He paused long enough to grab his coat and hat before leaving the house.  He was a few feet from the door, still struggling to stick his left arm in the sleeve of his coat when the bullet took him through the heart. 

For a moment there was silence, then the bushes parted and Geoffrey stepped out of the shadows.  His gun hung over his left arm as he walked forward.  The gun cracked in two and the spent cartridges removed.  Geoff slipped them into his pocket and placed two fresh ones into the chamber before closing the gun with a click.  He walked over, eyes never leaving the body. 

He could see the white piece of paper still clutched in his hands.  He bent down, pulled it from the limp fingers and spread out the page.  He read the words and smiled.

“Always knew you’d figure it out at some point,”  Luckily there is a large party of inexperienced hunters running ‘round these woods as Michael’s gone and let a troop of them in to have a go at his pheasants. I’m guessing one of them hit you without realizing it.”

There were pops of gunfire in the distance and he paused to listen for a moment.  “They are getting closer.  So I guess I’ll ’ust leave you.  Without this little slip, no one is going to think this anything but another accident.  Not as neat a the one I arranged for Sir Walter, but still.  Our local constabulary really do tend to favor the simple answers. They’ll take what they’re given no questions asked.”

The gunfire drew closer and Geoffrey faded back into the shadows, leaving Edmond’s corpse for the hunters to find.  He crumpled the paper in his pocket with the spent shells.  He would dispose of both when he reached home and there would be no connections to Edmond remaining. He would be in the clear, for good. 

‘After all, only a fool would go walking in these woods with those lunatics about.’

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