After rising from the slums of the Great Depression and becoming one of the most recognised musicians in London, Rosemary Hughes is finally at peace.
Until a famous musician is murdered and she receives a note saying she's next.
Suddenly Rosemary i...
"I managed to get an address, Do you want to leave now?" He asked, grabbing his coat that he had left in the room and swinging it over his shoulder.
I nodded eagerly, grabbing a working pen and a completely empty notebook, free of any sort of notes, something I could use specifically for finding clues and putting together a serious case. That way if we ended up catching the killer, I had evidence to hand the police and not just clues scribbled in between lyrics.
"No time like the present, "I said excitedly, "How did you manage to get the address?"
He pulled a finger and rested it above his lips, the humour twinkling in his eyes, "Me to know and you to wonder Ms Rosemary, I have friends in high places." Bruce winked and grabbed my hand, "Come on, if you want to get started we should leave, no time to dwindle." He began walking out of the office, most likely to get to his car. I remembered that part of his contract was to drive me everywhere and anywhere. I quickly slipped my hand out of his grasp. I would be nice, But I didn't want to be friends. I could see him visibly shift at the removal of my hand, but I didn't think twice about it. My mind clouded with excitement. We left the foyer and stepped outside, and almost immediately began walking down the road to wherever Bryce had parked his car. I didn't know where we were heading so I just followed his lead, matching his long strides with my own medium-sized strides. Bryce eventually stopped in front of a gorgeous car, painted in a soft grey colour with large wheels and a long front. I wasn't a car expert, nor a car fanatic, however, I always appreciated a nice looking car. I swallowed a gasp that I didn't want to let escape.
"Nice car," I offered weakly,
He raised his eyebrow at me, "Thanks," He swung the key chain around his finger before pausing and grabbing the key and shoving it into the keyhole. It twisted and I heard a satisfying click. Bryce grabbed the handle and opened the door, signalling with his hand for me to go in.
I quickly slid onto the car, feeling the cool leather against my thighs. Bryce slid in and began the exhaust, the car started to splutter before moving onto a smooth, mechanical sound. Bryce pushed down on one of the handles and the speed increased, I felt the wind flow through my hair, ruining my hairdo and pushing my curls free. The drive was quiet, yet it wasn't uncomfortable. It seemed that maybe neither of us wanted to talk, or maybe Bryce pushed down his inner chatterbox since he had probably figured out that I wasn't one for talking. The sun was high in the sky, yet it was still bitterly cold. Our surroundings began to change, the streets lined with shops and decay turned into a picture-perfect, estate filled, homely place. Rich oozed from each and every house, even more so from the pedestrians walking by. I still wasn't used to it. I sometimes felt like I was still the girl living on the streets in a tattered dress, begging the passers-by for money, a girl who had lost her mother and father at once and now had a younger sister to take care of. But that had changed, and now I was here. Preventing my death by running around with a bodyguard trying to catch a murderer, I almost rolled my eyes, and If I didn't believe I could do it then I would have rolled my eyes.
Finally, the car started slowing down, Bryce slowly pulling down a lever and stopping in front of a grand, old house. The car stopped and Bryce opened his door and got out,
"Let's go," He said simply,
I nodded and copied him, standing on the concrete path. The outside of the house was perfect. It was two storeys, a large double door and large windows framed in dark oak and blinds. The whole house was white, everything was what it should be, yet I knew the inside would be the opposite. I pulled my coat closer and stepped up the three steps before pressing my finger down on the doorbell, hearing almost immediately the loud buzzing sound. I could hear the footsteps from inside before the door slowly creaked open, revealing a short woman, tears stains on her face and red, puffy eyes, accompanied by frizzy, messy hair.
"Yes?" She asked weakly. Her eyes seemed to enlarge when she saw me, either from knowing me from my music or, instead, thought that maybe, for a second, her daughter wasn't actually dead.
"Are you Mrs Anderson?" I asked quietly, she nodded. "My name is Rosemary and this is Bryce. We were wondering if we could talk to you about your daughter, Dorothy?"
She probably wanted to know why but didn't ask. She simply nodded her head and opened up the door, allowing us to walk in. She shuffled down her hallway and we silently followed. She showed us into her dining room and gestured to the chairs before dragging one out for herself.
The woman stared at us, "What do you want to know, I suppose?" She asked miserably.
I cleared my throat, "Well, we were wondering who Dorothy was, as a person I mean."
The tears threatened to spill from her eyes, "She was kind, very lovely. She wanted to be an agent, specifically for that place where you work, MacPherson's Music...." She stopped to regather her thoughts, "Oh, I'm so sorry, I haven't even told you my name, I'm Anna." She smiled warmly, yet it was fake. Her eyes were glassy and her whole posture was telling me that she really wasn't ok.
"Was your daughter connected in any way to Klaus Richardson?" Bryce interrupted,
Anna's head turned to face him, her smile beginning to droop, "Yes, he was interested in having a new agent. Dorothy told me that they had been having problems for a while, and wasn't getting the most out of his career. He was interested in her becoming his new agent and she was more than willing. And then Klaus was killed and Dorothy left to visit family, she had only just returned when she- when she was-"
"You don't need to say it, Mrs Anderson. I can't imagine how awful this is for you. But I have one last question and then we will leave. Has Dorothy ever done something that could trigger someone wanting to kill her?" I asked carefully. I knew Anna could possibly take it the wrong way and start getting unreasonably mad.
Thankfully she didn't, but shook her head sadly, "I'm sorry to say but Dorothy was the most perfect girl. She hasn't done anything like that at all." Anna said, her voice beginning to catch in her throat, "But I actually have a question, why do you want to know?" Anna raised her eyebrow.
I took a deep breath, "We want to know who killed your daughter and Klaus. We're trying to figure out who the murderer is,"
Whatever Anna's reaction was, she did a very good job at making sure that neither of us knew. Her reaction was hidden but tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes.
She slowly nodded, "Thank you, for trying to find out who's killing these innocent people. I just hope that you're successful."
A smile made its way onto my face, "We'll try our hardest, that's for sure." I stood up and tucked my chair back into the table, "We do need to be going, thank you so much for your help." Bryce stood out of his chair and politely nodded, bowing slightly in Anna's direction.
We walked out the same way we had come in and out of the large brass door. The car was still in the exact same spot as it was when we left it. Bryce quickly ran over and unlocked the car, opening my door for me to get in. I sat back down on the leather seat just as Bryce was getting in the car, I felt the car rumble before slowly moving back onto the road,
"Back to the office?" Bryce asked,
I sighed, "Back to the office."
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I am so tired like waking up before 10 is so hard.
VOTE AND COMMENT you know if you want.
See you guys in the next chapter!
Eryn Raine
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