Schizophrenic Detective

Riley pulled her hair up into a high bun, then looked around the house. It was quiet, besides the occasional whisper and subsequent “hush.”

Ten minutes ago, she had met with Paul Richards, the supposed best friend of murder victim Taylor Wytte. Paul had claimed that he and Taylor had known each other since middle school, and had gotten along like thieves. The only thing that tore them apart was the murder two months ago which left Taylor rotting on the floor of his kitchen.

Since the body was discovered, there were only two facts to go off of. First, Taylor Wytte, a 35-year-old man in good health, had been strangled to death. Second, he had no known enemies and was a beloved member of his community.

According to his neighbors, Taylor had spent every summer over the last nine years assisting with the maintenance of the neighborhood garden, as well as teaching vegan cooking classes using produce straight from the garden. All the neighbors had agreed that he only brought good, and never seemed to have dark secrets.

But Riley knew from her experience, that there were always secrets hiding in the corners. The house saw everything.

Yeah. We saw it all. We saw it happen.

Closing her notebook, Riley looked around the room. Sure, the neighbors were super friendly and doing their best to be helpful, but they were afraid of opening up. Of being vulnerable. But the house would talk. All the ghosts of the past would help her close yet another case.

You’re so sure.

But are you good?

Can you really solve this?

Worthless if you don’t.

“Shut up.” Riley barked the words and walked to the fridge.

The murder had occured in the kitchen, so she needed to see it in closer detail. She laid on the floor, her back against the cool tile and her eyes locked on the white ceiling. There were no words, but there was a slight whimpering, like a child that accidentally cut themselves with scissors when they weren’t supposed to have them.

“You okay? Why are you so quiet and sad?”

We’re sad because you are here.

Sad because you’ll never solve this.

Angry that you think you can.

“That’s not you talking. I need you, the whimpering one, to speak up. Did you see it?”

Yes…

“Good, where little one?”

Right where you are.

“Who did it?”

I can’t say. I’m not allowed.

Riley sighed. “Okay, thank you. But why can’t you say? Where are you?”

I won’t say. Damn you, thinking you know everything! You know nothing!

This explosive response lit a smile on Riley’s face. “So, you know something. You know everything.”

NO! I don’t know anything! I just saw it, now move on bitch!

Riley scrambled to her feet, the smile on her face widening. “Such naughty words, little one. You know so much more than you should.”

The voice had silenced itself now, but Riley felt its presence was near. The truth was near.

It took ten minutes of digging through cabinets and the fridge, but she found the voice. When she touched the jar of tomato jam in the fridge, it screamed.

NO! Put me DOWN! I’m dangerous! I don’t want to hurt anyone else!

Riley cradled the glass jar in her hand and hushed the screaming thing. “Shh, you’re okay. It’s not your fault.” The voice quieted, and she read the label.

To Taylor

From Edna

Best tomatoes for the best neighbor!

“Edna, she made you do it. What did she make you do?”

The silence stretched for a few seconds before the voice spoke up.

He cared for me. Watered me every day so I was big and healthy. Then Edna cut me and so many others down. Made us into a delicious jam. I was so excited. Then she put in the arsenic. Not enough to kill him, but to weaken him.

“I see. Then she came in for the kill. But why? She said only good things about him.”

Me.

A new voice. Riley let her eyes wander around the room.

Up high.

On top of the fridge, was a pair of shears. They were hot pink and very used, but clean.

“You belong to Edna?”

Yeah, but that bitch is crazy. He only took them for a week as punishment for stealing all the tomatoes. She wanted to use me on him, but couldn’t reach the top of the fridge. Please don’t send me back.

“No, I won’t. You won’t need to worry about that.” Riley placed the poisoned jar in the crook of her arm and snatched the shears off the fridge top. Sure enough, the handle had EDNA written on it in black sharpie.

Detective Riley.

Always figuring out the truth.

Batshit crazy, but always with the evidence to back it up.

You’re lucky you solved this one.

Next time might be harder.

She shook her head to jumble the words. They weren’t the ghosts talking to her. Just her background. Now she needed to bag these pieces and get them tested. At least there was one less unsolved murder in her town.