r/WritingPrompts • u/katpoker666 Moderator • Sep 27 '24
Off Topic [OT] Fun Trope Friday, Writing with Tropes: Love Makes You Dumb & Detective!
Hello r/WritingPrompts!
Welcome to Fun Trope Friday, our feature that mashes up tropes and genres!
How’s it work? Glad you asked. :)
Every week we will have a new spotlight trope.
Each week, there will be a new genre assigned to write a story about the trope.
You can then either use or subvert the trope in a 750-word max (vs 600) story or poem (unless otherwise specified).
To qualify for ranking, you will need to provide ONE actionable feedback. More are welcome of course!
Three winners will be selected each week based on votes, so remember to read your fellow authors’ works and DM me your votes for the top three.
Next up…
Max Word Count: 750 words
Trope: Love Makes You Dumb – Your character is a high-flying genius capable of solving any problem life throws at them with ease. Then along comes a love interest and their brain turns to mush. Suddenly, they can’t seem to do anything right and their storyline revolves around this new love of their life. This is the core of ‘Love Makes You Dumb.’ Obviously, this never happens IRL. Right? Right?!
Genre: Detective
Skill / Constraint - optional: Include the Four Terms Fallacy – Also called the Politician's Syllogism or Equivocation, this involves a four-part syllogism vs. the standard three. Normally, if A=B and B=C then A=C, right? In most cases, a single term (B) is used two (or more) times, in differing contexts with different meanings; and yet the argument treats the two usages as exactly the same, since the same term was used. For example: Pond water is better than nothing. But nothing is better than a delicious glass of bourbon. Therefore pond water is better than a delicious glass of bourbon. Clearly, this is a fallacy of the highest order and in no way involves baiting one of our regular FTFers.
So, have at it. Lean into the trope heavily or spin it on its head. The choice is yours!
Have a great idea for a future topic to discuss or just want to give feedback? FTF is a fun feature, so it’s all about what you want—so please let me know! Please share in the comments or DM me on Discord or Reddit!
Last Week’s Winners
PLEASE remember to give feedback—this affects your ranking. PLEASE also remember to DM me your votes for the top three stories via Discord or Reddit—both katpoker666. If you have any questions, please DM me as well.
Some fabulous stories this week and great crit at campfire and on the post! Congrats to:
Want to read your words aloud? Join the upcoming FTF Campfire
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Ground rules:
- Stories must incorporate both the trope and the genre
- Leave one story or poem between 100 and 600 words as a top-level comment unless otherwise specified. Use wordcounter.net to check your word count.
- Deadline: 11:59 PM EST next Thursday
- No stories that have been written for another prompt or feature here on WP—please note after consultation with some of our delightful writers, new serials are now welcomed here
- No previously written content
- Any stories not meeting these rules will be disqualified from rankings
- Does your story not fit the Fun Trope Friday rules? You can post your story as a [PI] with your work when the FTF post is 3 days old!
- Vote to help your favorites rise to the top of the ranks (DM me at katpoker666 on Discord or Reddit)!
Thanks for joining in the fun!
5
u/katpoker666 Oct 03 '24
[ineligible for voting]
—-
‘The Rush’
—-
Amidst the torn, mismatched leather rolling chairs and chipped Formica desk of my office, the latest ‘It Girl,” Tilia Wong, looked strangely at ease. “He wasn’t my type. Let me stress that,” she said in a crisp accent.
I laughed, “They rarely ever are.”
“And yet, he also seemed so perfect.”
“They always do.”
“Turns out we enjoyed the same hobbies and movies. He even liked my Mom. No one likes her!”
“Huh. You don’t say.”
“And I like chocolate cucumbers with sautéed onions on top.”
“Yup. Isn’t that always the way.”
“You’re not even listening,” she sighed, lips pursed.
I took a long nibble on my well-chewed pen. “Should I be?”
“Well, yes, if you want the case. You do want to take my case, don’t you Miss Mapplethorpe?”
“Sure, sure, Tilia. It’s just everyone’s story is always the same in such matters.“
She puffed out her chest clad in a Gucci leather jacket. Her eyes narrowed, challenging me. “How so?”
“So the classic society con always starts with someone who’s lonely. A guy or gal turns up. A bar, gym, grocery store—doesn’t matter. Pretends they’re fascinated by the mark. Feigns having the same interests. Mark feels seen. Loved.”
“Right?”
“And being alone is better than rushing love. But the rush of love is the best. Being alone is better than the rush of love. No one ever seems to get that. Why I avoid relationships like the plague. Nothing beats a one-night stand or self-service, if you ask me.”
“That’s both a false equivalency attempting to be clever and sad. I hope you find someone someday. Everyone deserves to be happy.
“Whatever. I’m not the one who got conned,” I said squeezing her arm gently.
“When you put it that way, it all sounds so banal,” she said, fidgeting with the ends of her perfect lob. “It’s not the money. I just want to get even. Can you help?”
“Based on the information you wrote down, yes,” I smiled. “His name, email, cell, age, and identifying details give me a lot to start with.”
Tilia’s eyes widened. “W-what if they’re fake?”
“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But these days, everyone leaves a trail. We’ll get ‘em for you.”
“What are the options?”
“Given he stole a lot of cash from you, what was it, six bitcoins?”
“Seven.”
“Seven bitcoins is $420 thousand, enough for grand larceny if we can prove it. Then we could have him arrested. He’ll go through the system. Best case out in two years and he’ll likely strike some other unsuspecting girl again.”
“That’s depressing and yea, traceability is tough. Damn. What else can we do?”
“Hit where it hurts—his reputation. Men who have a taste for the good life struggle to give it up. But they get arrogant. Make mistakes. You’ve got his picture, right?”
“Well, yes.”
“We can plaster it with warnings on high-end bar and club lists and whatever fancy private social networks you posh types have.”
“Can we go with both?”
I nodded.
Tilia’s mascaraed eyes welled up. An inky smudge threatened her pristine makeup. “I’m a fool, aren’t I, Miss Mapplethorpe?” She whispered.
“Not at all. Could’ve happened to anyone.” I leaned in to brush away the tear. My finger lingered on her satin skin. Tilia exhaled. Cinnamon. Warm. Welcoming. A spark of silver flickered as her tongue darted unconsciously across her lower lip. I raised an eyebrow.
She laughed, “Surprised?”
“That I want to kiss a client or that said fancy client has a tongue stud?”
“Both?” Her eyes twinkled as she leaned in. Her tongue grazed the inside of my lower lip, the metal stud teasing the sensitive flesh. Slowly she delved deeper, guiding the kiss. Tilia’s hands laced through my hair pulling me closer. Demanding, yet seeking. What a rush.
—-
WC: 641
—-
Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very much appreciated
3
u/tiredraccoon11 Oct 04 '24
Using dialogue to carry a story can be tricky, and it's something you've absolutely nailed here. It does so much to bring your characters and their chemistry to life, and also quite handily advances the narrative. Your prose is excellent, the premise is unique and fits well into the criterion. The dynamic of this scene is perfect. Detective Mappelthorpe is set up well as the experienced, disinterested detective, and Tillia Wong the tearfully-wronged. client. Any critiques I have of this will be exceptionally nit-picky.
"Perfect lob" I think might be missing an e.
'I took a long nibble on my well-chewed pen,' could be worded a bit better. To me it sounds halfway between a standard pen-chewing and likening it to a noir detective's staple cigarette, in an awkward way. "I gnawed on my pen" or "I took a long nibble of my chewed-up pen" might be better-suited.
Separating "get arrogant" and "make mistakes" with a period makes it a fragment, which can be used for emphasis, but I think is a bit jarring in this instance. A comma is less unique but would be better suited to the flow of the dialogue, I think.
Disposing of Mappelthorpe's would-be title of 'detective' lends the scene some intimacy, if the finishing paragraphs didn't already, but a first-time meeting between caseworker and client should begin with some of the expected formality. Or, if Mappelthorpe is a private eye, some explicit confirmation of that would be good.
The switch of Ms. Mappelthorpe's priorities is a tad bizarre. She goes from avoiding relationships like the plague to kissing a client at work... why, exactly? Where does her desire for some level of involvement beyond the professional stem from? Physical attraction? Sympathy? Convenience? I think sympathy, but some clarification would do well here.
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u/wileycourage Oct 03 '24
Like Moth to Flame
I don’t know now whether it was love or infatuation or fear, but I was driven like a dumb ox by whatever force, a dogged determination never to be alone perhaps, towards oblivion posing as nirvana. Then, it was all bright and warm and comforting like the morning sun on a cool Fall day. I had hope once, but now nothing.
Alex sat on a park bench, shaded from the summer sun by a sturdy oak, and accompanied by hungry ducks who gathered in anticipation of a few scraps from his brown-bagged lunch. The young man wasn’t particularly hungry, but he knew feeding the ducks white bread would do them no good.
Sometimes love is tough.
Pangs of heartache told him the truth of the thought well enough.
He chuckled to himself.
“What’s so funny?” Alex failed to notice the woman standing between his bench and the nearby pond. He ordinarily wouldn’t engage with strangers, but he wasn’t feeling very ordinary that day. Broken free from his thousand-yard stare, he came back to the verdant park and to the present.
“It’s absurd, isn’t it? Rolling a boulder up a hill only to watch it roll down again.”
“Huh?” She scattered something on the ground in front of the assembled ducks while looking at Alex with a puzzled expression.
“You aren’t supposed to feed them, you know.”
She pointed to the bag. “Cracked corn and oats are A-OK. You’re sweet to worry about them though.”
“I feel more sour than sweet,” Alex responded, surprising himself at his openness and vulnerability with this stranger.
“Can I ask what’s going on? What’s your name?” Alex finally noticed his conversation-partner’s features. Long black hair pulled to a pony tail, heart-shaped face coming to a point of a chin and a tiny upturned nose and rather large brown eyes completed a rather odd, but pretty aesthetic.
“Alex. Yours?”
“Leah! Nice to meet you, Alex. Now. Why so glum?”
“A girl-“
“Damn, my read was good. Called it as a breakup as soon as I saw you were in La-La land.”
“Ok.”
“Don’t do that. Keep going. Vent away, you look like you need it.”
He looked at her as though she were crazy. “You really don’t have to do this. I’m not sure it would help anyway.”
“Well then, I’m here to feed the ducks and read some of my book.” She held a small paperback she had been clutching up. “I’ve got the time, but if you’d rather not talk about it, that’s okay too.”
“Can I feed the ducks?” Alex said softly with a glance at her bag of feed. “I feel like they’re expecting it from me, and I can’t bear to let them down.” As they were speaking the din of various quacks never ceased, as the flock keyed in on familiar Leah, then on Alex when he held the bag.
He smiled as he watched the birds clamor greedily eat up the grains.
Unbeknownst to the pair and their hungry mallards, a cadre of Canada Geese had formed up on the pond and bore down on them with malicious intent. The ducks noticed the attackers first and took flight all around Alex and Leah to escape. For their part, the geese raced in, heads low, with wings outstretched, and hissing their anger and spite at anything not their kind.
“Run!” Leah shouted with childlike glee. She grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled him away from the oncoming monsters. He barely had enough time to rescue his lunch before he was forced to follow the running girl down the walking path that wound through the park and away from the pond.
Though the geese gave chase, they soon retreated to enjoy the spoils of their victory still scattered around the bench. Alex was looking behind and didn’t notice Leah stop. He ran straight into her, instinctively wrapping her in a hug as they both fell.
Leah grabbed and held him too with a cackle and chortle and smile.
Alex smiled and nearly kissed Leah impulsively, but decided against it. He did hold onto the girl’s athletic frame as though doing so would allow her happiness to seep into him and for longer than he would have with anyone else, but all good things must come to an end.
Sitting up, she smiled at the boy. “Are you going to eat that?”
“Oh, right. Do you want to share?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “An impromptu picnic with a new friend? Absolutely!”
--
WC: 747
2
u/tiredraccoon11 Oct 04 '24
Using almost the entirety of the WC limit to describe the spontaneous romance between your characters was a bold move, and one that I think worked splendidly. I was instantly absorbed into this saccharine autumn day, and the little things that give your reader something to grab onto. Alex's comfort in the simple pleasures of life, and Leah's willingness to share, are I think the foundation of their relationship. However, the sudden switch in subject from Alex's woes to the ducks feels a bit contrived, as the proceeding paragraphs talk about the ducks and use them and the geese as a device to further Alex and Leah's relationship. Some brief reason why Alex shifts gears so suddenly I think would add even more depth to his character, and smooth over the transition between two major halves of the narrative. Your word choice and descriptions are fantastic, the plot had me hooked. I'd like a bit of clarity on how Alex fits into the detective archetype; he's indeed thoughtful and intelligent, but solves few of his own problems. He only cheers up because he meets Leah, and thoroughly abandons what made him so ponderous at the pond.
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u/wordsonthewind Oct 03 '24
I knew the dame was trouble the moment she walked into my office. From her figure-hugging red dress to her delicately waved blonde hair and painted-on face, every part of her presentation was calculated to stun.
But that wasn't why she was trouble. It was how she made a living, and she was basically in work clothes. The trouble followed in the wake of her work.
"Mistress Del," I said. "What brings you out of the Dancin' Delights?"
She smiled. "Hello to you too, Detective. I could use your help with a... sticky situation."
"That's usually why people come to me," I said. "What is it?"
She looked a little put out and I couldn't think why. "Says on the sign you're a Love Expert. You specialize in potions?"
"Also curses, tangled fates, and enthrallments." Potions were my bread and butter, but my skills were versatile. "Tell me about this potion."
She sighed. "Truth be told, I'm not sure it's a potion at all. I'm worried about one of my girls."
I made her coffee in a spare mug and settled in to hear her story.
Maxine wasn't the prettiest girl in the House, but she was by far the best dancer. She flaunted what she had, danced like she'd been born to the spotlight, and made everyone watching feel like she was performing especially for them. She made out like a bandit in tips every night. The House profited handsomely off the drinks.
But two months ago she'd walked out in the middle of a show. Now she was engaged, living respectably, and seemed to want to forget she'd ever been a dancing girl at all.
"She had a beau in two weeks?" I asked.
"I asked her that too," Mistress Del said. "She said John had always been there for her and she was only now seeing what she'd had all along. But I saw him that night when she quit and he's a regular. Always tips big."
I frowned. "Sounds like textbook enthrallment. Why don't you go to the police?"
"I tried," Mistress Del said bitterly. "They said a dancing girl making good was no crime and I'd best clear out before they started investigating me for enthrallment."
I looked at her. To my left eye she was washed in yellow light. She was proud and indulgent, but not a liar.
She met my gaze unflinchingly. "Like what you see?"
No innuendo for once. I'd rattled her.
"Your money spends the same," I said. "I'll take the case."
John Moffington III was an idealist and a romantic. Plenty of rich people were either or both. But he was also an idiot, and so he'd convinced himself that giving lavish tips to dancing girls was charity.
His penthouse was protected by the best magical and mundane security available. I'd have burned out my left eye trying to get past them. So I didn't bother. I knocked on the door, introduced myself as a love expert, and he invited me in immediately.
"Love makes the world go round," I said over his coffee table. He nodded eagerly. "But love is pain."
A hangdog look came into his eyes. "There's just no pleasing Maxine sometimes."
"Exactly," I said. "Love is pain, and pain is bad. So badness makes the world go round."
John frowned. "Wait, what?"
"Honey?" Maxine stepped into the room with tea and refreshments. "Who's-"
I used my eye. The enthrallment wittered about true love, unbreakable and eternal, but even that haze couldn't cover up the ring on John's finger.
He'd seen the yellow in my left iris and he scrambled to avoid me, but it was too late. A swift tap on the highlighted yellow spot and it broke in two.
John leapt to his feet. "That was my engagement ring, you-"
"Damn," Maxine said. "I had a pretty good thing going. If I knew Mistress Del had hired a Heartless I'd have cut my losses sooner."
She laughed at the looks on our faces.
"You put it on backwards," she said to John. "I knew which head you were thinking with. And you..."
She turned to me. "I heard that spiel earlier. Heartless through and through. And you actually billed yourself as a Love Expert. Amazing."
John was fuming. "Hiding your own heart away wasn't enough? Now you have to go and break others' too? Freak."
"I prefer to think of it as a unique point of view," I said mildly.
2
u/wileycourage Oct 03 '24
Hi words!
Fascinating world you have here with the magical and mundane interwoven. The background details really seem well thought out. Well done!
For crit:
It's surprising to say, but I think the story could use just a little bit more exposition. That background world feels natural, but I'm not in the know on all that's possible or the world's boundaries and vocabulary. Without that firmed up in some way, I feel a bit out of place and have little to go on as to what will come next. Looking back I can see your setup, but that's only because I know the information now whereas I had no idea on the first read through.
"That's usually why people come to me," I said. "What is it?"
She looked a little put out and I couldn't think why. "Says on the sign you're a Love Expert. You specialize in potions?"
And yet here there's an opportunity to hide some exposition or weave it into the dialogue more naturally.
i.e. "That's usually why people come to a love expert," I said . . .
Then she can respond asking after potions.
It was a little unclear up top that Del was looking for a way to cancel the effects of a potion or enthrallment rather than the other way around.
Maxine wasn't the prettiest girl in the House
Aw, this is such a great opportunity to develop Del's voice and put the story into dialogue and her perspective!
It seems that Del knows what a Heartless is and that our MC is one. I think you can hint that he's not ordinary or different earlier or more directly.
I looked at her. To my left eye she was washed in yellow light. She was proud and indulgent, but not a liar.
She met my gaze unflinchingly. "Like what you see?"
No innuendo for once. I'd rattled her.
"Your money spends the same," I said. "I'll take the case."
Love this part. Great back and forth and perspective.
For the second part, I'd stick to MC's perspective there. Show that he went to check out John to connect the narrative up. Could just switch the first two paragraphs of the second part, I think.
The twist is fun and well executed. Maxine not actually being enthralled and all and just taking advantage of John. Again on more explanation of the Heartless thing. Please!
Again very well done on the world and narrative and ending! Loved it.
5
u/Whomsteth Oct 03 '24
Thrill Seeker
Sirens blared and authorities ran through the streets, all warnings of an enemy to the state being in the area. But Jared didn’t hear that. No, he heard excitement. He heard a break from routine, from waking up in his boring house, walking the same boring streets and giving the same boring people their boring newspapers. He jumped the metal fence with a wild grin, taking care around the wicked spikes adorning the top. Jared dropped down into a crouch, one hand keeping his hat in place, before stalking through the greyish grass towards an abandoned warehouse under the bridge. He heard the shouts of armed guards calling for backup before going in, which meant he had some time to snoop.
Down behind barren boulders and up to the corrugated metal doors. Jared heard a rustling to his side and next thing he knew his vision was a blur of red and grey. His ass hit the pavement hard and a hand gripped the collar of his shirt, bringing his face worryingly close to a pair of rubied lips coiled into a hateful expression.
“They’re sending untrained brats to deal with me now? I’m insulted,” She said. He blinked hard before taking in what was going on.
I suppose I’ve found them before the cops have.
“Not gonna talk?”
“Uhhhh… hi?”
She looked incredulous.
“Hi? Why the fuck are you down here?”
“I mean, it’s not every day something like this happens.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Jared by the way, what’s your name? Also, could you let me go?”
“That’s not the kinda thinking that most loyal empire folks follow… say, tell ya what, if you can get out of this then I’ll show you something.”
Jared had to pause for a long moment, listening to the noises in the distance, taking in his situation. His leg hurt badly, most likely a kick brought him down. And he doubted he could overpower her in a physical contest as he looked over her lithe body and bulging bicep as she held him. He glanced back up to her sparkling green eyes, brows arched in question of his next move. Slowly, he began to lean backwards, adjusting his feet accordingly. She followed the movement. Jared flexed his legs and pushed forward as hard as he could, catching her eyes widening and red hair fanning out like a corona as their chests and lips met. His free hand came up and snatched her loosened grip to the side, with a pivot and a push he used his body to shove them both against the wall behind them.
Hopefully the shadows hide us.
At the sign of loudening footsteps, Jared pressed further into the woman before him, pushing their lips together hard as he clamped her arm against the wall. Squeezing their conjoined form smaller and smaller. Once the footsteps had passed he peeled himself away, releasing her hands and sidling away slightly. Her eyes were glazed over as she panted, a dribble of sweat running down the side of her face. Her arm shot out and before Jared could even yelp their mouths were on eachother again. This time her tongue was barging on the gates that were Jared’s lips, and he was utterly hopeless to resist as she took his arms and pushed him up against a rusty fence. Each time she paused for breath she’d reposition their hands, from holding her hips to her holding his face, thrown around shoulders and grasping backs. Again and again until Jared could no longer keep count. His back hurt from the metal digging into it but he’d stopped noticing a long time ago.
After an eternity, she finally took a staggering step backwards. “What the… Oh. Sorry, got a bit too worked up there…” She paused, noting the metre between them. “Good job getting out I guess. Wha—? Oh fuck right the guards!”
It was mesmerising how her body instantly snapped to attention, back straightening and eyes brightening as she quickly took stock of their situation.
“Good job keeping us out of view, Jared was it? You’ve got some guts to ya, and if they,” She indicates to the sounds coming from above them. “Find ya then they aren’t gonna be very happy so, how about you come with me and join the resistance eh?”
“I don’t have much other choice do I?”
“Not really, no.”
“Never got your name by the way.”
She smiled. “I’m Veronica, and welcome to the resistance.”
WC: 749
Crit and feedback much appreciated as always
3
u/tiredraccoon11 Oct 04 '24
Your prose is excellent, and describes vividly the, ahem, chemistry between your protagonists. The spontaneity is appreciated, but a bit nonsensical. You do a great job of answering some important questions, and developing the personalities and relationships of your characters in such a short time seems to come naturally to you. The broad elements of the story are tied down well, but introduced a bit haphazardly. Maybe bring up the possibility of specifically-resistance meddling in the opening scene, as a routine reason for why alarms are blaring.
Veronica’s dialogue feels a bit inconsistent. No sign of an accent or other roughness, and yet she says ‘ya’ almost every time she means ‘you?’ Such standalone quirks can harm the characterization they attempt to build. Lean into it or leave it.
Some portions of the story feel a bit formulaic or redundant. Painting the scene as you go frees you from the necessity of a summary mid-action sequence. Lay it out well, describe your character’s thoughts as they roll with the punches, not after, and trust in your reader to keep track of the story elements. It’s only 749 words, after all, and spelling out what you just said is a precious waste of already-limited space.
Related to that, the exposition of the opening scene is excellent, and leaves me wanting for more. Not another scene-setter, but some pleasant details along the way that help your reader paint a picture in their mind. Choosing what to focus on in detail can also shift the emphasis to different elements of the story. Describing what exactly Veronica wears sets her up as a monolith of the narrative. Conversely, describing in detail the imperial agents can cut another facet into the face of this mysterious empire.
6
u/deepstea Oct 03 '24
I loved waking up to the scent of Esme’s cinnamon hair, watching her sleep peacefully before I got ready for work. It was hard to resist the temptation of staying in bed all day, cuddling and talking about what life might look like on other planets.
I met her just a month ago, but it felt like we’ve known each other forever. When we met, she was smiling at me across the bar with her crimson red lips. I had started a conversation by asking what shade was it. She replied “Blood Cherry”, and all I wanted was to taste it on her lips.
There was something about her that felt real, like she was not scared of embarrassing herself. Only sometimes I would see her stare into the distance and get lost in her thoughts. I would ask what is wrong and she would say everything was fine. For now, I would happily settle for what she felt comfortable sharing, may it be my bed, a laugh, or a bottle of wine.
I had already been late to work three times this week, struggling to leave her side,. My partner at the bureau, Julius, teased me mercilessly about it. At 50, Julius’s dad-like humor was either charming or eye-roll-worthy. For a month, we had been investigating homicides, where men previously convicted of violent crimes against women were found with their throats cut, stuffed in a trash bin. There were no suspects yet, and the only lead we had was the scrawling “pig” on the last victim’s forehead in red paint.
Unwillingly, I dragged myself off the bed and gathered up the files into my briefcase. I quickly got dressed. I figured I’d grab coffee once I got to the Bureau. I realized I was already late when I picked up my ringing phone. It was Julius. I answered as I closed the door behind me.
“Hey boss man. I am on my way.”
“Another long night studying the case, Ellie?”
“Yeah, I had the files with me Jul.”
“I am sure you did. Now hurry your ass. We’ve got some new evidence. One of the officers found a bloody coat in the bin next street”
“I’ll be there”
As I walked into the Bureau, I remembered the files and evidence in my briefcase. As I took them out, Julius waved me over.
“Take a look here”
“I’m just gonna drop off this evidence and files back first”
“Leave it for a minute. It can wait. She finally made a mistake”
“We are certain the killer is a female now?”
“Well we at least know that the killer wears a size 6 coat and wears lipstick. Probably what she used to scrawl on his face. The lab results should arrive soon.”
I looked at the fur coat, stinking of trash, blood, and a familiar sweetness my nose could not pinpoint.
Soon after, the fax machine beeped.
“Gotta be the lab”
I picked up the sheet of paper, showing the results of the lab tests on the paint on the victim’s face. The hair on my neck stood up.
“What does it say, Ellie?”
“Blood Cherry”
The words blurred as my eyes welled up and I couldn’t breathe. Before I could say anything, there was a sudden boom behind me. Instinctively, I threw myself on the floor and drew my gun. When I got up, I saw rest of the agents doing the same as the sprinklers rained down onto the room. There was a charred circle on my desk, where my briefcase used to be.
“Good thing I waved you over kid. But who—“ Julius looked at me until he saw the epiphany and pain in my eyes. “Get in the car”
He drove us to my house, and police back up met us there. He asked on the way “Why would she do that?”
I felt frozen and answered with a pained monotonous voice “It should’ve been in the evidence room. She was going to destroy it all.”
Julius scoffed “She destroyed enough.”
We got to the apartment and I followed behind the officers, feeling out of it. I heard “all clear” as I followed Julius’ footsteps, until I stopped in front of the bathroom door. On the mirror, there was blood red writing in her lipstick
“Had to run, babe. Figured I’d go out with a bang. Yours, Esme”
It was signed with a kiss smudged across the glass.
—- WC:741. Comments and crit welcome