Stuck in Time | #OpenNovellaContest2020 | Round Two

1.

It was all started when this dude picked my house to die in.

His name is Donald MacDonald, an employee in the marketing department of the famous-than-necessary commercial entertainment-slash-tourism company, Lloyd Tourism & Lifestyle Incorporated.

Elton Queen does not have many tourist spots, a small town that it is. No. But, Elton Queen is definitely famous for the Lloyd Tourism & Lifestyle Incorporated. Nobody knows why. Well, certainly not me.

Then again, I just arrived back in town after a month of touring the country with a couple of friends, so how was I to know? When I was here last, the Lloyd Tourism & Lifestyle Incorporated was not very well known. It had taken only a matter of a month, apparently, for it grow in size and popularity, with a couple branches across the country.

Enough for a death of its employee to become nation-wide news.

"I tell you, I'm not responsible for killing him!" I yelled at the inspector for the thousandth time from my position in the chair at the local police station. "It's true! I didn't! When he died, I wasn't even in town! How he ended up at my house, I don't know!"

Inspector Markus Jefferson looked bored as he reviewed the notes he took just minutes ago. He finally looked up at me.

"So, how do you explain him being at your house? In plain sight, no less?"

I rolled my eyes. "How many times must I tell you I don't know!" I nearly screeched. "I. Wasn't. In. Town!"

"All right, fine." He picked up his pencil once more. "Can we verify this?"

"Yes!" I sighed in relief. "My friends, Iris White and Maureen Oswald. They were with me the entire time!"

"And you were gone for a month?"

"That's right." I was beginning to calm down.

"All right, we'll verify this. Anything else you want to tell me about it?"

"The dead body? Nope. Nothing at all. All I know you know."

"Okay. Fine. Thank you for your time, Miss Pavlov. We'll get in touch as soon as there's a development."

"No. Thank you for finally listening to me!" I sighed once again. "The other policeman refused to!" My voice softened. "And Jefferson, you know you can be you now." I gave him a small but friendly smile. There was hardly anybody around in the police station at the time; just a few others, but minding their own business in other parts of the area.

The inspector smiled back at me tiredly. "I'm sorry, Pavlov." His voice was soft, as well. "I was just so caught up with everything... Anyway, if you hear anything from... you know, beyond the grave, do let me know. Okay?"

I nodded. He was one of the few people who knew my secret. "I will. I know you'll believe me."

"I always do. And you're always right. Now, go, have some rest." He paused and looked up. "One piece of advice, though."

I stood up. "Yes?"

"You should consider staying with somebody else. The person who sneaked into your home to kill MacDonald last night might strike again. Not likely to be at the same spot, but we don't know what his motive is. It might be that the guy was at the wrong place at the wrong time." He stared meaningfully at me.

I knew what he was getting at, but I simply shrugged. "I was struck once, so what's another time?" I was only joking, obviously, but Mark didn't seem to look at it that way. My laughter dried up as I took in the grim expression on his face.

"I mean it, Pavlov. I want you safe, no matter what happens."

I nodded, more serious now. "Fine. I'll ask Iris if I can stay with her. You trust her, don't you?"

"I do." He nodded and his face softened. "Thanks for doing this."

I shrugged. "I want to live longer, you know."

He chuckled. "Oh, that reminds me. There's a new visitor in town by the name of..." he paused to recall, "Graff. You might want to check him out. See what you pick up."

Despite my heart-rate increasing at the mention, I suppressed it enough to maintain my calm composure. "I will, thanks. He's the only one, right?"

"Right."

"Okay. I'll check him out and let you know."

He held my gaze for a minute longer before turning away. "I'll see you again. Now go."

I was certain by then—that there was something in his eyes that I couldn't quite recognise... something on the lines of fear or frustration... or something else entirely.

I nodded once and walked out of the interrogation room, calmer and much more satisfied than when I had walked in, an hour ago.

I always tell Jefferson the truth. When I lie to him, it's only about my feelings. No, more like, not mention anything about it at all. For instance, he had no idea how scared I was, when I first entered the station. And I wasn't about to tell him, or he'd have gone ballistic about everything; there's no telling what he'd do in such a state of mind. He's way too protective; although that's rather comforting, it's also a little suffocating. There was no need for it. Not for a person like me.

Then again, come to think of it, me getting scared about something is probably scary for regular humans. And I wasn't a regular human.

Jefferson and I had been friends for five years now, ever since he moved into Elton Queen one summer. We hit it off rather well, although we did have our ups and downs now and then. He became an inspector of the town quite by accident. Nobody knew for sure how, including himself!

'I wonder how that guy managed to get in!' I thought, my blood boiling all over again at the thought of the murder at hand. I hated my privacy intruded in any way.

As I walked weaved my walk through the corridor of people, I took in a deep breath and let it out. I needed to have a clear head right now; no point in exploding like a bomb. More and more officers were entering the station now, some carrying files and folders, some others walkie-talkies.

Jefferson and I had been friends for five years. We had some initial misgivings, but in the end, through means of helping one-another – him with showing around the town and me with Calculus – we became friends within a year and our bond grew closer and stronger through the years. My other friends whom I'd known since childhood, took longer time, but they warmed up to him eventually. In a small town like this one, where everybody knew everybody else, it is difficult to accept a newbie moving in, but that didn't mean it was uncommon. Well, it wasn't frequent.

Like I said, I always tell Jefferson the truth. I don't mention intense feelings to him. And he doesn't know how scared I really was at the time, how much self-control I had been mustering up to keep my hands from shaking during and after the questioning. And knowing him, I wasn't going to tell him any time soon.

Except... I had been lying to him.