Orphaned Mystery: Case Unsolved

Chapter 6

Day 5 (11th January 2021, Monday)

8:30 pm

Martin stood in front of YODA, eagerly waiting for the visitors to arrive. Marie-Lou, Jackie, Ashley, and Mason arrived in a car followed by Wendy and Logan, who were riding bikes.
Marie-Lou wore her usual "Mary Poppins" look. Jackie wore a red t-shirt that had a printed picture of a skateboard. He wore dark blue jeans and black rain boots. Ashley wore a plain fluffy pink sweater despite the heat and black leggings and cherry red shoes. Wendy and Logan were wearing the same outfit as the previous day. Mason wore a black bombers jacket, gray jeans, and red sneakers.
'If I knew the distance was this long, I would have come in the car. My legs are killing me' Logan groaned and wheezed as he complained. Wendy looked just as tired.
Marie-Lou rolled her eyes. 'Lead the way, agent' she said.
'Yeah. So we can prove we're innocent' Jackie looked determined. Ashley nodded from behind Marie-Lou.
'When are we going inside?' Wendy wanted to know.
'Right now' Martin felt like he was leading a bunch of students in a field trip.
'Cool' Logan grinned. Behind him, Mason crossed his arms but remained silent. Martin resisted the urge to scream, MURDERER.
He led the group inside, passed the long hallway, and went inside to the room where his adventure first started – where Super Intendant Sherlock was waiting.
'Please sit here' Sherlock told with a grim expression, motioning for Martin to come next to him and for the others to sit in the couch placed by the wall next to the door. They did as they were told and looked at Sherlock in awe.
Sherlock cleared his throat. 'Now you all know why you are here so I am not going to take any of your time explaining. Martin has claimed to find out who the murderer is. He knows who killed Freddie. He is going to explain how he knew and how the assassination was done. But know that after he finishes explaining, the murderer – which is one of you – will be taken away to – yes Jackie?'
The eight year old was raising his hand. 'Is the murderer going to be taken to jail?' he looked concerned.
'Yes, my boy. He or she will be taken to jail – to say it simply' Sherlock smiled, unfazed or baffled by the sudden question.
'Any questions?' Martin asked. Everyone shook their heads in synced silence.
'In that case, agent Martin, please explain who you think is the murderer and why' Sherlock looked at him with a stone face that carried a clear message, Amuse me, and get it right.
Martin wouldn't meet his gaze. He forced his own eyes on the group sitting in front of him.  He took a deep breath and started.
'When I first came to your house, you all told me that you were downstairs at the time of the murder. If that was true, it meant the kill was done a while back. I retraced everyone's steps and searched your rooms. I found a bottle of medicine used for sleep deprivation along with a cup that was used to take it and a receipt that led me to where it was bought from, a sketch book, a pair of gloves and an ice skate stained in blood, three to four letters, and a book belonging to Freddie. It really didn't make sense to me at first. It looked like a planned murder. But as I read the book, Freddie had been writing what was happening in his room before he died. He wrote about the fight he had Wendy and how he scolded Jackie. Apparently he had made a deal with someone – he didn't say who – but he had told this person that he would make a choice between something he wanted his entire life, and something he already had. The letters were from the murderer – the same person who he made the deal with. The murderer gave the medicine – which was a bottle of morphine from Aiuchi Pharmacy to be exact - to Freddie, knowing his desire to sleep would make him determined to do anything to close his eyes. He bought it on 25th December last year using the 40 dollars Marie-Lou had "lost" – yes, Marie-Lou – it was stolen, not lost.  The next few days Freddie experienced the side effects because he had taken a lot of it. He was feeling dizzy and even more tired than before. He wrote about going crazy with headaches and the disability to share his problems with anyone. His drawings painted a clear picture of what he was going through. But after a few days of going insane inside his room, Freddie had an upper hand on this person. The day he received the medicine, the murderer dropped a small notebook containing his biggest secret - one that he had hidden for more than five years. That's when things got heated. Letters were passed between each other, until one final letter was given to Freddie with the words: I am coming to you soon. On New Year's Day, Freddie brought the murderer over to make his choice and confront him about the note face to face. He wrote that it might be his last time writing on the book. The murderer came over to Freddie's room, around 11:34 at midnight, he used the gloves and ice skate to kill Freddie because he couldn't stand the thought of someone knowing his secret. He had led a life of crimes and someone knowing that made him feel exposed. That feeling triggered him into committing patricide, the only choice visible in his mind. He used other people's belongings to frame them and throw him off the radar. Unfortunately, he didn't think about the other clues that would lead to him. Tracking him down was an easy job'
Martin looked at the expressions of the others. Marie-Lou and Ashley's mouth were closed and their eyes wide open. Wendy had covered her mouth with one of her hands, her eyes filling with tears at a dangerous pace. Logan stared silently at Sherlock and mindlessly played with Jackie's hair. The eight year old looked confused and looked at every single one of his siblings, checking if they would show signs of a killer. And Mason... his face was unreadable. Was he scared? Was he confused? That was unlikely. Wendy had translated every word Martin said. The boy was sitting on the arm of the sofa, his arms crossed ever since he got out of the car.
'Well, Martin?' Sherlock shattered his focus on Mason.
'Uh, What?' he realized everyone was staring at him now.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Well, you finished explaining didn't you?'
'Yes?' Martin replied, feeling puzzled.
'Then who is the murderer? Or have you not found out who it is?'
'No, sir' Martin exclaimed, turning redder by the second. He awkwardly pointed at Mason – and everyone turned at the boy. So much for a grand reveal.
Mason must have been a great actor. He looked genuinely scared and confused. He looked at Wendy for explanation. She must have told him that he had been caught, because he started shaking his head looking at the others for support.
'Mason, it was you wasn't it?' Sherlock asked. 'Is Martin telling the truth?' Wendy translated the questions in a more demanding tone.
All the denial seemed to flow out of Mason as one. He stopped shaking his head, lowered his eyes, and nodded a yes.
Sherlock's expression didn't change. He beckoned Mason to follow and went outside the door, the fifteen year old gingerly following him. Sherlock returned a few minutes later, but Mason was completely out of view.
Martin knew he should be celebrating. The trainee solving the unsolvable. But instead he felt an overload of guilt weighing him down. Why, though? Mason was the murderer. The case was solved. No more problems in "Marie-Lou's home for the homeless". No more –
'Wait, agent. You still haven't solved part of this mystery' It was Logan, his eyes scanning the room. He looked upset.
'Which part?'
'The part where my brother is missing' Logan's eyes glittered dangerously. He was fighting back tears.
Martin's dreams of partying dug a hole and buried themselves alive. 'Lucas wasn't the one who killed Freddie. My guess is that he saw Freddie dead, didn't want to get suspected, and fled somewhere until it was cleared'
'We will send a search team if it makes you feel any better' Sherlock added. He must have felt bad for the kid.
'A search team... wow...' Logan's voice faltered. He blinked and shook his head, undoubtedly frustrated.
'I'm going home' he got up and walked casually out of the door.
An eternity of silence followed. Martin was dying inside. How could he forget? He kept asking himself over and over again. His mind had no answer to it. As if things couldn't get any worse, it had started raining.
'Don't worry about it. He will just go home and sulk about it for a few minutes. Then, he will get over it. Logan's like that. He is used to riding out in bad weather. It used to be the twins' favorite hobby' Marie-Lou assured.
'If that's the case, you may stay here for a while' Sherlock gave a smile. 'Martin, make our guests feel welcome, won't you? I am going to have a chat with our trouble maker in room 20 if you need me'
'Yes, sir' Martin replied without hesitation. He knew how to welcome guests. But what he didn't know was that he was wrong about one thing. The problems at MHH weren't over. In fact, they were just getting started.