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A Cold Day In Hell

Author Devia Vyne

By Devia VynePublished 3 years ago 4 min read
1

Nelson sat in the lunchroom recounting his former days in the office; “Ok; so it went down like this.

The interrogation room was cramped and less than inviting, as they tend to be. I was working murders, Lorell was on cold cases, and this woman who just walks in with her boyfriend was across the table from us. The three of us were huddled together having a conversation regarding some property of a questionable nature, and she was the one doing the talking.”

“Listen man,” she starts with, “I can only assume the book was stolen by the baboons. Yes, my boyfriend and I had managed to get it back; but when we found it we had no idea who it had belonged to. It was simply a simple black notebook which fell out of a random tree, and into the Jeep as we drove below it.”

She was frustrated, but continued “No one had even noticed the thing until we were exiting the vehicle, and the tour guide handed Bill the notebook assuming it was his. Bill took it thinking the guide would ask for it back. It was only later when we’d been returned to the tour depot with the notebook still in our possession that we realized the mistaken assumption.”

Calming somewhat the woman explained, “We tried to raise someone in the office, but it seemed to be abandoned for the day. So we decided to go back to the hotel and see if the contents of the book could provide any insights.”

“It was only when we opened it that we realized the danger we were in and the position which we found ourselves, thanks to being the owners of the material in question.”

She paused, and spoke again; “The first page of course made little sense to us. We could see it contained dates, and cash amounts, however the intent of those names and numbers only became clear as we thumbed further through the pages in an effort to locate information which might permit us the successful reunification of book, and owner.”

“Further into the search for clues we realized the pages containing the photos, locations and particulars for the individuals on the content pages correlated to the dates and dollars index at the front of the book. At that point we immediately recognized not only the reality of the small folio, but the danger which knowing it’s contents assuredly put us both in.”

She continued to explain, “We held the small book in the hotel room for a couple of days, investigating the pages, looking for news stories where we could, and doing our best to confirm what we were in possession of, was indeed a hit list.”

She reached towards Lorell, motioning towards the book.

“May I?”

Lorell and I both lean forward, watching as she turned pages and sought her prize out among the many possible options.

“This one. This guy right here, he was just in the news, wasn’t he?”

Lorell answered her, “Yes, ma’am.”

She continued turning pages. “This couple here, weren’t they also a recent headline?”

It was my turn to answer her. “Yes indeed, they surely were.”

“This little boy here, wasn’t there a reward offered?”

At this point we glance at each other and back to the book, surely we weren’t about to be handed a golden ticket on a killer of this nature. She sat there, thumbing through the pages with this smug look of “whodunit” satisfaction until finally reaching her target. Dramatically she opened the pages wide and slammed the small black book wide open onto the table between us, indicating a name and address distinctly inked in red. “That one right there, and this one, and -” she paused as she turned a couple more pages in the book, “this guy right here, is the ring leader, but it’s actually his wife running the show.”

“Ok I’ll bite,” says Lorell “what makes you think a woman is behind it all?”

And the woman across from him leaned forward, and pushed the book towards us and replied “Because every single personal token which is collected, and then noted in the book, is jewelry, and the photos in the book are not all photos!”

Smiling she turned over a photo of a woman dripping gold and diamonds to reveal it was indeed a custom postcard, complete with photo studio address, and her own address matching that inscribed on the page in the book. Closer inspection of the photograph revealed the jewelry which the woman was wearing bore an uncanny resemblance to the items listed within the book’s pages.

An arrest warrant was obtained.

The suspects were arrested without incident.

The keepsakes and collections were located without difficulty,

The charges were laid and convictions came easily.

The department wrapped up half of our cold cases off that one book.

And with that, Nelson leans back in his chair, finishing his story, smug and pleased, with the unarguable statement; “Yep. That young lady surely hit the jackpot with that little black book. Then again though, so did we. Best reward we’ve ever paid out, huh boys? Wouldn’t you say?”

fiction
1

About the Creator

Devia Vyne

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