The Mysterious Happenings of Ester Walton

3|| DETECTIVE PYSHER

I leaned against the metal table in the interrogation room. Michelle is dialling the number from the dead girl's phone. After a little investigating we found the number was the girl's mother, which should be helpful for more information, because for some reason all we could find on her phone was her name and a couple of phone numbers and blurry photos. Michelle was tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for the person to pick up. She was grinding her teeth and was just about to hang up when a crackly voice came through the phone, "hello?" The voice asked,

"Yes, hello. I am Detective Michelle Tylin and I work for the Police. I'm afraid we have some bad news, you're daughter was found dead today at around 7 am on 4th avenue, and you were one of the only traceable numbers." Michelle said into the phone. She didn't even flinch when she broke the news to the lady. There was a quiet in the room for a while and then Michelle spoke again,

"Miss? Hello?" She asked, her voice growing impatient,

"Yes, hello. Sorry it's just such a shock... I spoke to her this morning..." by now I was standing only millimetres away from Michelle and she was shooting me dirty looks,

"Yes, m'am. We are aware that, we were wondering if you could drop by the station and answer a few questions?" A pause,

"Sure. I'll be by soon... thank you I suppose..."

"Of course. Thank you." My partner said, hanging up the phone. I smiled at her and she rolled her eyes. I went back to the table and pulled myself up on it. I wasn't quite sure why we had to call from in here and not the main office or a cell phone, but I didn't dare question Michelle,

"Join me," I said, gesturing at the table. She shook her head, 

"I'm not sitting in that filthy thing," she  said, pulling up a chair. "So, what do you think about this body? This, Ester Walton? Suicide? Accident? Murder?"

"Definitely not an accident, there were no signs of that, not a single one. Unless it was an accidental murrrrrderrrr!"

"Shut up, Dorian. Murder is a serious matter, don't joke."

"It could easily be an accidental murder. How is that a joke?" I said innocently. She rolled her eyes (she does that a lot),

"Yes, but murrrrderrrr! Is a joke," She gave me a bland look. She's not that much fun. Not sober anyway, but that's another story,

"Fine, fine. It was either murder, suicide or I guess accident but I doubt it. We don't have much to go off until the forensic report," I said. Michelle nodded, her arms crossed. Her blonde hair way tied up in a bun at the back of her head and she was wearing a tan coat trench coat and black pants. She's pale as a the moon. She's original Irish and kept only the complexion and love of beer, but like I said, that's story for another time. A silence loomed in the space between us for a moment before someone opened the door to the interrogation room, 

"Sorry to interrupt, but Mrs. Walton is here to see you."