Young Writers Society

I sat facing the old man, tapping my pen on the wooden table to get his attention. He turned his gaze from the abstract painting on the wall. The man had graying hair, but his face seemed quite youthful. His green eyes were piercing, almost making me want to look away, but this was my first case: I had to do this well.

I poised the pen above a sheet of paper, and turned on the recorder. Dust came off on my finger, but I shook it off, and cleared my throat.

“Mister Maurice Fergetter, you have been accused with the kidnapping of Ash Warner. What do you have to say about this?”, I asked, cringing at how squeaky my voice came out.

“I say this: listen, rookie.?”, he replied with a nasty sneer. “May I request a real cop?”

I tried to ignore his words, but they were more piercing than his gaze. I swallowed whatever I may have said in emotion, and continued.

“He went missing almost directly after he came to your house. This was reported by Mrs. Florence Warner. Ash was supposed to come home at 6:00, when he never did, Mrs.Warner called the police.”, I said confidently.

Maurice couldn’t argue with facts, right? I had a bunch of them here, bullet-pointed on this sheet of paper, so I would be able to prove him guilty within minutes. I could see everything in my mind. Smirking at him, I thought, If all cases were this easy, I would have no trouble getting higher in rank.

I could see his arrogant facade start to disintegrate, but I must admit he put on a good show trying to maintain it.

“Is she okay? Mrs.Warner, I mean? I’ll answer your questions after you tell me that.”, he said, his face looking strained but at the same time, somehow expressionless.

Feeling a little sorry for him, I put my fact sheet aside and reached into my pocket for my phone. I quickly unlocked it with the touch of my finger and went to Messages. I went to the ones from Sergeant Derrick.

“I’ll tell you, but please state where you were during that time.”

Maurice hesitated for a second, but thought the better of it, and started. I could see the dark circles under his eyes better now, along with the unshaved grey stubble on his face.

“Florence Warner was at a time Florence Fergetter, my dearest daughter.”

That explained why he seemed so shaken up when I had mentioned her name.I wondered if he knew that she was the one who reported him as a probable suspect. If he did, it explained why he seemed troubled.

“I loved her like anything, especially after my wife died. I felt a greater responsibility towards taking care of her after that. I homeschooled her, being a former professor, and she thrived. Soon, she became…”

He paused for a second, and I felt like I could see tears, pushed back. Probably just my imagination.

“Of course, she became wild, cooped up. She demanded to go to college, and I couldn’t stop her. I was afraid, but I let her.”

I knew I wasn’t dreaming when I started to see beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

“She went to college...and fell in love, as most people do. Of course, with a terrible boy.”

“Ash Warner.”

Maurice looked at me, and I nodded for him to continue. He mopped his sweat with a handkerchief and went on.

“Ash Warner. She came home with him one day, and asked for my blessings for their marriage. Here is where you must understand…”

“Smith. Meena Smith.”

“Yes, Meena. You must understand this from my point of view here, he said.”

I could tell right away that this was the interesting part. The part that could either make or break this case. I put my phone on the table and picked up my pen. Maurice saw this, but seemed indifferent about it, or just too stressed out to care.

“The boy didn’t have much of a good history. His parents had both served time, and he had been abandoned at the age of 13 on a highway. After that he had shifted from foster home to foster home. When Ash came in, I just felt like he would be such a negative influence on her. He wore a sweatshirt over ripped jeans, his long,dirty blonde hair covering his face. Would anyone come like that to meet their soon-to-be father-in-law?”

Maurice seemed to be in more of a rage now, as if he were reliving the moment.

“He was nonchalant about the whole matter, with dear Florence doing most of the talking. If he didn’t make an effort now, what effort would he make lifelong with my daughter. After a few minutes, I couldn’t stand it, and told him to get out.”

Maurice scooted to the edge of the chair, and reached for the glass of water sitting there. He downed the water in one go, put it back, and continued,

“Florence was angry, but I made it up with her. I had raised her to be sharp and witty, so surely she had used her mind as well as her heart in selecting her lover, is what I had thought at the time. After their wedding, I visited them a couple of times. That abominable man! He was just using her for housework, and treated her like a labourer, with the excuse that she was his wife! I just couldn’t stand it any longer!”

His eyebrows were almost touching, his mouth etched into a scary frown.

“I had to teach this boy a lesson. I invited him to my house and he came. I talked to him about poor Florence, and he laughed it off, saying that she was an amazing housewife, and wrecked my house, the wretch! Ash didn’t even have compunction for his crimes against his own wife!”

“I caught him by the collar and shoved him into the basement and locked the door. I went to sleep, and then you called me here.”

“All because of…”

“Yes! He’s still there.”“If you had problems, you could have called the cops!”

Maurice seemed taken aback, and didn’t respond.

“Couldn’t you think about Florence? She is so worried for him!”

“I didn’t anticipate her worry. He was terrible to her.”

I exhaled sharply, frustrated. I picked up the phone and dialed the Sergeant.

“Sir, I’ve gotten him to confess. He says Ash is in the basement of his house. I’ll make a detailed report for you, but it seems like there are two crimes here, and Mister Fergetter may not be the cause of both.”, I said, a little happy, but a little disgusted as well.

“Good.”, Sergeant replied, before cutting the call.

I sighed. That had been a pretty easy case, but strange. It probably wasn’t the strangest crime though.

I set the phone down and glanced at Maurice. He was rocking back and forth, murmuring to himself, and frankly, I was a bit worried about him. Also about Florence. She had seemed very troubled at the police station, and they had taken her into custody after she showed signs of trauma. Florence was a pretty, and beautiful girl, unlike her father, but they both were probably very worried right now.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed, and Maurice fell off the chair, wheezing, and lay on the ground. My eyes grew wide, and I answered the call but rushed to him and felt for his pulse.

“Mrs.Florence Warner is in the hospital. While no one was watching, she tried to…”

I swallowed. His pulse was faint.

“She’s in a coma, but she has suffered many injuries, and probably many stressful experiences, so we don’t know if she will recover well, if at all.”

A tear slid down my cheek.

“Whoever you are, tell the hospital to send an ambulance to 208 Drake Complex. Mr. Maurice Fergetter is unresponsive.”