Chapter V – Die Detektivin

I knocked at his door gently, looking around constantly to see if there was anyone around. Not a single soul.

“Who is it?” He asked.

“It’s me, dad.”

“Ah, come in, sweetie!”

I opened his study’s doors gently.

It smelled like old books. The windows were always closed shut, even in summer. It didn’t reek, though...the air was just stale. He was sure that an air flow ruined the quality of the paper.

He stared at me while smiling warmly, his hands together as he sat behind his big desk at the end of the room. A faint light coming out from the dimmed gas lantern. He liked to challenge himself by reading in the dark...he believed it sharpened his vision.

“Do you need anything, Lillya?” He asked. “It’s very late, you should be sleeping!” He added jokingly.

“Can we talk, dad?” I asked him, walking closer.

“But of course! Be quick though...I have to read this book before bed.” He chuckled.

I went around his desk, my hands behind my back. He moved the chair back and faced me.

I wanted to get it over with, since I couldn’t keep myself composed for much longer.

I didn’t know what I was even showing him, since the witch demanded me to never discover its contents. She told me where to find this book...it was hidden right inside that office, under a hidden compartment of the left drawer. I took it and brought it back to my room.

I was tempted many times to open it but I actually never did...since I feared that torturous pain.

The witch didn’t make me do all this for nothing though.

No. She did it so that I could hurt him.

She didn’t want to just end his life...she wanted him to feel emotional pain before dying.

I simply pulled the book out from behind my back, showing it to him. His face grew white, his eyes wandered around.

My curiosity was so strong at that point that I almost asked him what was inside. However, I couldn’t break the act.

“L-Lillya...I...I can explain.”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to explain dad.”

I took a deep breath, looked at him right in the eyes...and I followed the witch’s instructions.

“I hate you. I already told mom and everyone else. Everyone hates you.”

His mouth was agape. His eyes started swelling up, he was about to cry in front of his own daughter.

“Lillya...I’m so sorry…! I just...it’s just that-”

“No.” I whispered to him, placing the book right on the desk. I walked right behind his chair, and caressed his shoulder. “I am sorry.”

“What…?”

The sinister essence that bind me to my existence started swirling around my head. Yet, a part of me rebelled against the darkness within my very core, a flicker of humanity struggling to break free from the witch's spell.

As he tried to get up, I seized the moment. With a deft movement, I reached behind the window’s curtains, my delicate fingers grabbing the deadly instrument hidden beneath them since that very morning.

My pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I raised the weapon with my eyes shut. Then, with a swift, decisive motion, I struck.

Firstly, I threw the rope over him in an arch, making his heavy body fall back on the chair after I pulled. He groaned as he grabbed the edges, trying to understand what was going on.

Before he could even start screaming, I pulled harder, putting my small foot against the back of the chair...letting my whole weight fall back.

He squirmed as his life began to fade away through wheezes. The thick rope crushing his throat without mercy. A rude, slow way of killing someone.

I could hear the witch’s laughter across the room. She was enjoying the spectacle alright. I squeezed my eyes even more, crying silently as I heard my father's moans of panic and pain.

“Li...llya…” He voiced my name for the last time. And then, everything was suddenly over. Any type of force that was fighting against my deadly trap ceased.

I leaned against the windowsill, letting the rope fall on the ground. I finally opened my eyes.

His head was down, his arm swayed back and forth slowly, his finger twitched weirdly after death.

“I’m so sorry...I’m sorry...I’m sorry…”

I cried suddenly hugging his body from behind. I prayed that God somehow made him live again. The Irreversibility of my actions made me truly realize the extent of the corruption that befell my whole being. There was no turning back.

I screamed silently, my sobs bringing me almost to suffocation.

After a while, I mustered the courage to go around the chair and look at him. His eyes opened wide, a terrified look.

My brain tickled. It was being repeatedly stabbed refreshing, gratifying needles. My mind was feeling a rush of sorrow, mixed with a perverse sense of satisfaction.

Killing was so wrong and evil. Yet, my whole body would shiver in pleasure every, single, time.

It was definitely the witch’s doing – I would have never felt like this by my own.

I swallowed hard and dragged dad’s body towards the center of the room. I tied the rope around his neck tightly and then moved the whole desk under the gas lantern. I climbed on top of it, hurled the rope and grabbed the other end as it fell down, hanging from the hook. I pulled, praying the whole thing didn’t tear from the ceiling.

Dad started going up, up and up...like he was being carried by a pulley. He reached the desk’s height. On the tip of my toes, I tied a big knot near the hook.

When my grip was no more, dad fell down a little, but the big knot was too big to pass between the hook and the ceiling.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

I jumped down, pushed the desk back where it was...and it was done. Dad hung himself.

----------------------------------------

The next day, it was raining.

After everyone came back home from their respective days, it didn’t take long before the whole mansion turned into a place filled with cries.

We were outside, it was late afternoon. Some men were putting our father inside a coffin. Mom chose to host a private funeral and to bury him in our own garden.

Everyone was there, crying and hugging each other.

image [https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/3gpt0ufgrqt5pes49b73z/artist_missile228-depth-of-field-best-quality-illustration-amazing-highres-s-3154936312.png?rlkey=9ejf533w411915s2q28svqebs&raw=1]

I will never forget Nelya’s expression. She was the only one that didn’t have an umbrella, her whole body was drenched. She didn't care...she was just too sad for her father's death.

Guilt ate me from inside as I stared at the priest reciting the prayers.

“Why?! Why did he fucking kill himself?!” Annaliese screamed. “What the heck was wrong with him? W-Why didn’t he reach out to us?! Oh my God...oh my God! Dad!” She then fell on her knees, crying louder than the rain.

Mom, in agony, was being comforted by William and Rosie, while Vance, Gale and Katherine wept silently, staring at the ground.

image [https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/qxtyo2e11ntkkvwvkbat8/_furudo-erika-artist_missile228-depth-of-field-best-quality-illustration-am-s-437193111.png?rlkey=7ni2i3773ozef7qrca4dx6y54&raw=1]

And then…there was Erika.

She didn’t look sad, nor happy.

Her expression was one of pure, utter rage. Her eyes were fixed on the coffin. She didn’t move, her teeth gritted and her nails dug in her own palms, while the handle of her umbrella was being choked, trembling slightly.

I walked towards her, leaving Nelya for a while.

“A-Are you okay?” I asked her.

Her eyes immediately darted at me, piercing my very soul. She took a concealed, deep breath and softened her expression. She hugged me, burying her face in my shoulder.

I silently patted her back, sighing. Then, she left my embrace and walked over mom.

Nelya approached from behind and put her hand on my shoulder. I turned around and looked at her face – it was a mess.

“You don’t have to hold back, Lillya.” She said while sniffling. Probably because I haven’t cried until that moment.

I desperately threw myself in her arms, weeping silently.

I killed my own father, and I wasn’t going to come back from that. I erased the Lillya I was completely.

I became a murderer, a dangerous puppet that could only kill.

----------------------------------------

After the funeral, I went straight to his study against mom’s will. She didn’t want to even see it, but I had to discover the truth.

I closed the study’s doors and took a deep breath.

The room was exactly as it was when I barged in during the morning. After Kruz and the servants brought dad down and out of the room, the study's key was given to mom. Luckily, I managed to learn lock-picking during my childhood and the lock was fairly simple, letting me pick it with only my hairpin.

I was sure. She wouldn't have stopped at one death.

I had to do something.

My investigation started from the desk. I quickly hurried over and checked behind it.

When they cut the rope from the gas lantern’s hook, I got a hold of it and inspected it. It was one of the ropes we keep in the basement for various uses, something anyone could have acquired. The knot was rudimentary though – whoever made it, wasn’t really capable.

My father used to be a lumberjack before going towards to the path of nobility and business. He lived most of his life in the woods...so he certainly knew how to tie knots. Hence, he didn’t make the knot.

I inspected the corpse before it was covered, and he didn’t present any wounds or signs of struggle and his neck's bones were intact. That meant that he was conscious while he was simply choked to death.

After asking for witnesses, I established that he disappeared right after dinner and wasn’t seen anywhere until the next morning by the maid Ferya, who then reported the corpse to Kruz. Mom asked her to go check on dad after everyone left for school and work, since he usually slept in his study when he was very absorbed, but never missed breakfast. He was killed during the night while he was studying.

And if all this wasn’t enough. There is one very clear reason that makes it obvious that we’re talking about murder and not suicide.

The position of the corpse and the room’s conditions.

The chair or the desk were at least one meter far from where dad was hanging. How could he have reached the center off the room without aiding himself with the chair? If he had really killed himself, he would have had needed to knock off the chair while using it to get high and ready.

If that was the case, then we would have found the chair on the floor. However, it’s still behind his desk.

After all those considerations, I just had to figure out how the murderer acted.

I immediately noticed something very important. The chair was slightly moved back and it was not perpendicular to the desk, as if he was taking a break or…

“...or he was making room for someone else in front of him.” I mumble. “They joined him behind the desk.”

That meant that he had a reason for doing so. Otherwise, he would have been startled and the chair would have ended up somewhere more erratic.

At that point, I was sure...even if I suspected it already.

“Shit!” I slammed my fist against the desk, gritting my teeth.

I felt sick and disgusted by that situation, and by the fact that I was forced to think and solve this – if I didn’t, I would have ended up dead myself. And my family would have suffered the same fate.

The witch was controlling someone that he trusted. One of us here was a murderer.

But which one? A family member? The servants? A close friend in town that broke in during the night?

My heart was pumping even more blood, the rain outside didn't help my nerves. I hated its sound.

I started thinking again.

If the chair has this natural position and wasn’t put back inside the desk, it could mean that…

I looked up the ceiling staring at the hook.

...the murderer reached the hook and tied the rope using something else.

Any average perpetrator would have placed the body using the chair and then put the chair back under the desk. Nobody would have ever remembered to put it in such a natural way. Maybe the witch told them to do so...but for the sake of the argument, I had pretend it wasn't the case.

But what was used, then?

I went around the desk immediately, spotting the solution. There were dust marks from the desk to the center of the room.

The murderer used the desk to climb up and tie dad’s body to the ceiling...leaving dust marks since it’s been a while since it was lastly moved.

It was someone short.

The chair was a comfortable one, half the height. The murderer needed something higher – the desk.

Not William, not Gale and not Kruz.

But wait, what if it’s a red herring?

I’m playing with a witch, after all.

I had to be careful. I couldn’t jump to conclusions too fast.

First of all, I had to think about something even more important than height – the murderer had to be capable of killing a built man with medium muscles that probably tried to fight back with zero success.

That would include William and Gale again. They’re very fit. Damnit!

I clenched my fists and took a deep breath.

No, calm down, Erika. This isn't the time to panic. I have to be rational.

I couldn’t be sure that the killer was fit. What if it was a surprise attack? Since dad was so open to the murderer that he let them cross his personal space behind the desk, nothing denies that they could have choked him with the rope by going behind him. The chair was heavy, after all...it would have kept him firm as he died slowly, unable to get up or do anything at all.

So maybe it was someone short, after all. Someone who had to use both the desk and a surprise attack. Someone short and weak. Yes, I was more convinced when I added that additional point. I concluded the desk wasn’t a red herring.

“Okay, someone short.” I nodded.

Sadly, almost everyone at the house was short, except the three men I mentioned. Even mom would have needed the desk to reach the ceiling...and she is the tallest one if I remove those three men from the suspects. I still had a long way to go.

It was time to check for some motive.

The witch probably convinced the culprit to kill. I had to find something that could stir up a homicidal intent towards dad. I hardly believed she was capable of controlling any of them physically, since from what I remembered only her creations, who had her blood, could respond to her will.

I opened all the drawers and checked under the desk. Just in case I found something valuable in dad’s personal storage. Books, diaries that contained his whole life. I skimmed through a lot of things.

Then, I grabbed a book that was weirdly placed at the left of the otherwise neat and tidy desk. A book with an azure cover. I opened it casually, having no hopes left.

And then, I found something truly shocking.