Detective Lawrance closed the passenger side door and then got into the driver’s side. He had allowed me to tag along. Well, I forced him to allow me, which wasn’t exactly ‘allowing’; but still close enough.
“I’m only letting you come along because I need you to look at something for me, okay?” He asked. “This will not be a tradition.”
I nodded, his message clear to me. “But you agree that the only way you could know is by looking at her hair.”
“No, but that’s why you’re coming with me.” He indicated and turned left, and then I realised how young he looked. Thirty-five could have been a bit of a stretch on my part. “And you can stop staring now. It’s making me uncomfortable.”
I looked away and wasn’t even embarrassed, maybe a bit. But he wasn’t as bad as he’d led me to believe when I first met him. “How old Are You?”
“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll stick to forty.” I looked out the window. “That’d explain how rude and obnoxious-”
“Twenty- five.” He cut me off. I smiled, so I was good at manipulation. “That wasn’t very nice. Anyway, back to the case, Celine, the woman, seemed to have committed suicide. But on further inspection, she was murdered. And the cause of death was strangulation, like you said.”
“Celine? What was her last name?”
“Ramroth. Celine Ramroth.” He mumbled. The name tickled my brain, a memory. The name sounded familiar, but where had I heard it before? I racked my mind for any Celine Ramroth experiences, but there weren’t any to pick up.
“Oh. Any relations you’ve picked on?” I asked. “Anyone who we can get a hold of soon?”
“We? No, I’ve found relations I can talk to. You aren’t part of the plan, and this is only for today.” But was I ever? Not even for my mother.
I stayed silent for a bit until we got to the morgue, then we got out of the car. I walked behind the detective, who didn’t seem worried about my wellbeing or whether it panicked me. What if I had necrophobia? I mean, I didn’t have it, but what if I did? “Then you wouldn’t be here.” the voice in my head said. Oh, now I felt stupid.
The medical examiner, whose name was Dr Dalter, welcomed us into the morgue. He was a tall, bald man. He looked to be around his late forties to early fifties. He had a smile that lit up the grim morgue. The morgue was a clean, shiny place that smells of ammonia and bleach. I gagged, the smell of bleach making me immediately regret my decision of coming here, and it made my eyes water. He led us to a room and there was a body with a tag on its toe, a toe that was out on display. I figured it was the woman, Celine. Her body was covered with a sheet except for her feet and face, which could be seen from a mile away.
I approached the body tentatively; I was curious and petrified. This was a dead woman I was seeing. Not only was she dead; she had been murdered.
“I’ve set the time of death to be between ten the night of the party, and two the morning the body was found.” They had found it at around eight a.m. after the party.
“Miss Blackburn here says she wants to know if the body washed up on the beach or was she placed there then soaked?” Lucas explained. The doctor gave me an inquisitive look;
“I thought maybe that would narrow the suspect list down to only town people from the entire world.”
“Ah! I see.” He rubbed his greying beard. “That is a good question actually because it brings me to a question I had this morning.” He walked to the body, looked at it, and produced a file. I figured that was his autopsy report; he flipped through many pages of it, then walked back to my side. “Here. Can you read that?”
I thought he had the stereotypical doctor’s handwriting, which was not intelligible. As if reading my mind, he explained the gist of it; in amateur’s language,
“I found that if she had drowned. Which we immediately ruled out, she would have water in her lungs; in large quantities. But she had no water in her body, none. If someone had strangled her, then thrown into the water. Then there’d still be some water in her body since her mouth was open when we found her.”
“And there was none?” I asked, and he nodded. “How about her hair? Did she have leaves, small stones, or was it even tangled a bit?”
“No?” It sounded like a question, so I thought I had to elaborate.
“Had she floated into the water, then washed up on the beach; her hair would have things stuck in it because the ocean has things floating in it. And even if she didn’t have that, after floating around in the ocean for hours, you’d expect her hair to be tangled, would you? Because she’d be pushed and pulled everywhere by the waves.”
“Yes, that’s a good point you’re bringing up. Would you like to see for yourself?”
I nodded. He walked with me to the table, and then I peered at the woman, Celine. She was a beautiful woman even while dead, and her hair wasn’t tangled at all. It was way too perfect, even better than mine, and I hadn’t been murdered.
“She didn’t float in the ocean at all. They placed there her. Maybe only a few minutes before she you found her.” I said. “Because if she’d been there a while, then the waves might have lapped her more. They placed her there to make us think they murdered her out in the ocean then threw into it.”
“I see.” The detective said and gave me an approving look. He looked to be appreciating my intelligence.
“That’s all I wanted to see,” I said and then turned to the detective. “You said you wanted me to see something?”
“Oh yes. Can I have the earring, doc? I want Miss Blackburn to tell me anything she might know about it.” A few moments later and I was holding a very believable replica of an expansive earring.
“This is a replica of an earring from an expensive company,” I said and turned it around in my hand. “It’s called Beauty Order, they are one of the most expensive jewellery companies ever.”
I explained how the earring I was now holding was a replica, a good one too. The men stood there looking uninterested in my jewellery explanations. I loved jewellery; I loved making it. And when I was sixteen, my sister and I worked in a jewellery store, which was the happiest year of my life.
Once in the car and driving… somewhere; detective Lawrence thanked me for my service. I said it was only my pleasure, which was true, but he should have suspected I only said that to be polite.
“The earring reminded me of something. When I was sixteen, I worked in a jewellery store. And one day, a woman came in and bought a few pieces of jewellery.” I said.
“Does this have something to do with the case?”
“Yes, but wait. She bought the jewellery and came back multiple times. Eventually, she said she wanted to hire me as her assistant because she also owns a jewellery store. I didn’t remember the name but then I googled it; the store was called Beauty Margins. She made and sold jewellery.’’
“Yes, and?”
“The woman’s name was Celine Ramroth. This article I’m reading says she went on vacation a week ago.”
“You knew the victim?” I had painted myself in the wrong light, I now realised.
“Well, yes. But no. I knew her, but I didn’t.” I made little sense now. “I didn’t work for her and I never saw her again until today.”
“Yesterday.” My confused glance must have told him how confused I was. “The picture.”
“Oh,” I said. “So, where are we going now?” I asked.
“Your Aunt’s house. You need to do what you’re here for.” He said. I knew that it was final and arguing with him wouldn’t help much.
“My aunt said your name is Lucas.” I looked at him to gauge his reaction.
“Yes, and?” He said,
“So your full name’s Lucas Lawrance?” I asked, striving to hold in my giggle. It did sound ridiculous to me.
“Yes. And that is why I only tell people one of them. Either Lawrance or Lucas.”
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