The Great One

A Mysterious Death

Detective Vanilla Lawson packed her plain police cruiser outside the Bennett home, its tyres crunching on the rock carport. The rambling chateau was washed in moonlight, at this point murkiness stuck to its mysteries. She ventured out, her ragged cowhide boots making an unpretentious crash on the ground. A whirlwind stirred the trees, and a shudder ran down her spine.

Dr. Richard Bennett, an eminent researcher, lay unmoving on the front room floor, washed in the ghostly gleam of a close by light. His inert eyes gazed into obscurity. The scene seemed heartbreaking however clear - a straightforward mishap. Be that as it may, Vanilla's stomach told her in any case.

"Anything uncommon, Official Johnson?" she asked her formally dressed accomplice, who was cautiously looking at the room.

Johnson, a youthful and enthusiastic cop, scratched his head. "Not actually, Detective. It appears as though he stumbled and fell. There's a wrecked container on the floor, and he has a cut on his brow."

Vanilla's eyes waited on Dr. Bennett's inert body. She had seen an excessive number of crime locations to acknowledge the undeniable face esteem. "Require the coroner, and how about we get legal sciences here as quickly as possible."

As Johnson transferred the orders, Vanilla's look meandered to a close by shelf. It was loaded up with logical diaries and dusty books. Something about this spot felt off.

Similarly, as she was going to research further, the entryway opened up, and a troubled young lady burst into the room. Lucy Bennett, the researcher's girl, wheezed as she took in the scene.

"Father!"Lucy raced to her dad's side, destroying her face. She supported his head, unmindful of the blood staining her hands.

Vanilla moved toward Lucy tenderly. "I'm Detective Vanilla Lawson. I really want you to move back from your dad, please."

Lucy looked into, her eyes loaded up with agony. "What was the deal? Is he... is it true that he is OK?"

Vanilla delayed the slightest bit, her sympathy fighting with her Detective's impulses. "Please accept my apologies, Lucy, yet it seems your dad has died. We're researching the conditions."

The young lady's face wound in dismay, yet she hesitantly got away from her dad's dormant body.

As Lucy sat on the lounge chair, Vanilla saw a glint of something on the edge of the shelf. She carefully went after it — a small sound recorder taken cover behind a few dusty books. It aroused her curiosity, however, she slipped it into her pocket, keeping it stowed away from Lucy's view until further notice.

The coroner showed up, and the investigation proceeded. Vanilla couldn't shake the inclination that this passing was no mishap, yet she had no proof to help her hunch — yet.

With a last look at Lucy, who sat overpowered with misery, Vanilla realized that this case would be not even close to clear. She would need to dive profound into the insider facts concealed inside the Bennett manor and find reality before it asserted more lives.

What's more, as she drove away from the scene, the minuscule sound recorder in her pocket appeared to the murmur of stowed-away secrets, alluding to the tangled trap of misdirection and peril that lay ahead.