Alisha Dempsey

Fifteen Minutes

I’d waited ages for that night – a general hum of excitement started in my local book group on Facebook, and soon we’d organised a small event. 
It’s nothing many people would call ‘interesting’ – one of my favourite authors was releasing a new book, Anna, so I’d posted trying to gauge general interest. I’d wanted to arrange a small event, maybe at a café, for a couple of us to get together and read it the day it released. One of the bookshops in town, Grimm’s, had gotten wind of it and offered to do a midnight release for us – even better. The sales assistant there, Megan, had been the one to find my post, and we’d been talking for weeks to try and organise it and drum up numbers. In the end I think only 10 people had marked the event as ‘attending’ – many had already pre-ordered online, and others had reserved via WHSmith’s and Waterstones months ago; it was to be expected, really, as we left the organising a bit late. 

Anyway, it was down to six of us, not including Megan and the barista she’d managed to convince to stay late for us all. 
I’d approached from the shopping centre side of the building, the side that has the service door on it; next to it was an old looking breaker box with exposed wires. It looked like a relic of its time; I couldn’t tell you if it was still functioning or just a fixture that had to remain the building being a listed one, but I digress. I walked past the huge window display that overlooks the Dog and Gun pub, and saw all the advertisements for Anna in the window, as well as this month’s best sellers and other new releases. There was a reason this was my favourite bookshop – central to town, actively engages its customers, and the people that worked there actually read books, not just sell them. 

As I entered from the main door, immediately in front of me was a promo table – this one had an A3 standing poster of Anna’s book cover, as well as details of tonight’s event. The shop was quiet – as I looked past the Anna table, I saw Megan standing at the till desk with who I had assumed was the barista – the deep green apron and completely black ensemble gave it away. 
“Darsha! You’re the first one here.” Megan beamed as she approached me for a hug. “This is James,” she pointed to the chap in the apron, “he’s just on break but he’ll be up at 7pm if you’re alright waiting until then for a coffee?”
I nodded in approval and spent a couple of minutes perusing the Poetry and Young Adult sections on the right side of the store, before finally chastising myself. You don’t need another book, you’re here for a midnight release and you still haven’t finished your current read.  I resigned to the left side of the store, passing the inside of the service entrance that I had seen on my way in, and ascended up the stairs to the café. 

As big as the bookshop was, the café itself was tiny; confined to a small balcony roughly the size of a caravan that overlooked the shop. Some might have thought it a bit claustrophobic, but the bar at the back exuded the aroma of espresso and fresh bakes, the chairs were comfortable, and the views, whichever side you sat on, were fantastic. The two tables that overlooked the balcony were small, and each had only one chair. On the opposite side to the balcony, more chairs were placed next to the large window that overlooked the Dog and Gun, and sat directly above the window display. I opted for a cushioned armchair at one of the tables that overlooked the pub, and faced towards the stairs. The two next to the window were meant for a duo or trio, and I felt a little selfish taking it to myself. It wasn’t long, probably only 15 minutes later, that another person ascended the stairs and into the café. He was a tall man, with olive-coloured skin and tinted glasses. By the way he gripped at the handrail and used his toes to feel out the depth of each stair, I had guessed he was blind. My suspicions were confirmed when he slung his backpack off one shoulder, and I could see a folded cane strapped to the side of it. The name ‘Spencer’ was embroidered onto the base of one of the arm straps. He pulled from his bag a set of earphones, and coupled them with his phone on the table. I admit I was nosy, and leant over to see he was listening to one of the Jeffrey Deaver novels in audio format. He had good taste. I cleared my throat so he knew I was there – if he heard, he didn’t acknowledge it. 

After about 10 minutes had lapsed, James came up the stairs and took our orders. I opted for a cappuccino, and the blind chap requested a mocha. I couldn’t handle the hot chocolate at that time – it would’ve put me straight to sleep. 
I managed about an hour with my book before another man arrived – he had golden blond hair and was devastatingly beautiful, with piercing green-hazel eyes. He darted past me to the only other table with two chairs, and set down multiple bags on the seats before retreating back into the shop. Shortly after, a third man arrived; this one was tall and skinny, and very pale. He looked a bit like a Scandi supermodel – he had practically white wispy hair pulled messily into a bun at the back of his head, revealing an undercut below the longer locks. He rounded the top of the stairs and froze in place – he seemed to be looking at the blind man, and had a quizzical expression on his face. Without too much movement, he settled in a seat at the other table that overlooked the balcony, and was facing directly at the blind man. He seemed almost transfixed, as though he was waiting for a reaction from him. His gaze was finally broken when James approached him – all he said was ‘Americano’ (which I thought was quite rude), and I half wondered if he hadn’t dared to speak in case his apparent opponent recognised his voice. It was such a strange atmosphere. 

It was a silent 45 minutes of nothing but page turning and slurping before two more joined the group, and only an additional 30 minutes after that that the final attendee arrived. There was a beautiful woman of what I guessed was Jamaican descent, with mahogany coloured hair and perhaps the best gold eyeliner I’ve ever seen. Accompanying her was the man with golden blond wispy curls and Mediterranean skin tone – you could tell by how his shirt fit that he was chiselled underneath. The two of them together could easily be mistaken for Greek Gods. They took their table behind me that overlooked the pub and street. 

Finally, around 9:30pm, a white woman, around the same age as me, appeared at the top of the stairs. She had ash-brown hair that was tied back into a messy bun, and had a small amount of fringe in the front. She wore silver wire-frame glasses, and plain clothes with a chunky rust coloured cardigan. She looked like she belonged here, despite the huffing and puffing – I suspect she had arrived later than she anticipated. She looked like she’d worked a late-night shift at the local library. With there being no more open tables, she opted to sit across from me with a timid “may I?” being the only words spoken between us for a while. I nodded, smiling. I’m not the most social person, but I’d never deny a stranger’s company – even if there were other tables available, I was still more than happy for her to sit with me. 

I suppose if I’m painting the scene, I should let you know what I look like, too. I’m Indian Sri-Lankan, so I have warm brown skin and thick dark hair that I usually keep in two loose braids (so much easier to maintain). I have a nose piercing, glasses, and I think I’m pretty okay to look at, all in all. I’d definitely look out of place with the Greek Gods sitting behind me, but I wouldn’t turn anyone to stone, that’s for sure. Think Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, if she was more plain-looking and had a rounder face and a pudgier figure. 

By the time Megan came upstairs around 10:45pm, I only had one fifth of my book left – my third coffee had long been finished, and the cup sat empty on the table, but I was well on my way to finishing the book before midnight. I took a break to glance up and see that the woman across from me was also happily reading – Rachael Lippincott, one of my favourite authors. She noticed I was looking at her, so tipped her head up and smiled, before delving back into the book. I blushed, and returned to my story. Behind me, I could hear the Greek Gods quietly discussing the books they had picked up before Megan had closed the till down in order to come join us. Amongst whispers I heard the woman gush about Longfellow and Tennyson – clear poetry fan – and the man happily showed her his new copy of The Odyssey (which he mentioned was his third); the man was evidently into the classic classics. The blind man to my right ordered another coffee, and I watched him navigating on his phone. I bet he’d finished the Deaver – I knew I’d get through my own read much quicker if I’d have done it in audio form – I’m the type of person that listens to them on 2x speed because the slower-speed voices put me on edge. 

I noticed that the blind man would periodically swap between sipping his coffee and adjusting his glasses – I pondered what he could be nervous about. The midnight release included the audio and braille formats, so accessibility couldn’t be an issue. 

About quarter to midnight, the Scandi-man stood abruptly, looking out over the balcony. He seemed to be sweating a bit – you could see his forehead glistening slightly when it caught the light. Everyone in the café raised their line of sight to watch him – he didn’t acknowledge the six pairs of eyes now on him. Instead, he turned on the spot, and made his way downstairs into the bookshop. A couple of us, myself and the woman sitting across from me, shared perplexed glances before returning back to our own distractions. 

As the clock struck midnight, Megan unveiled the new display in the café for the book release; behind empty shelves, there were posters advertising the novel we had all been eagerly awaiting – Anna. Red and black filigree posters feature its synopsis, which tells us that it’s a period piece – in 1800s regency England, in the dimly lit corners of high-society balls, bodies of some of the most elite and well-off names in the country are being discovered. It’s a crime novel, not too dissimilar to the story of Jack the Ripper, had he targeted rich men instead of poor women. We’d all been waiting on tenterhooks for the release, and up until now, only the vaguest details had been shared by its author. 

Being nearest the staircase, I was the first to rise, and hurriedly made my way to the till, beating Megan only by seconds. The rest of the group, including James, followed close on her heels.

As Megan began opening up the first box of books, the lights went out momentarily. We all looked to one another in the darkness, before the back-up generators kicked in and they powered back up.
“Don’t worry, the till works on a separate system to the lights.” Megan laughed. We all quietly cheered, applauded, and gushed to one another about how excited we all were. Books were scanned and sold one by one, the smooth dust jackets being stroked and admired. I do think I heard someone excited about a ‘new book smell’, but I was too distracted to know who it came from. I hung around at the till, despite the first copy being mine; it would have been too easy to leg it home and begin reading it (the benefits of booking the next day off work meant I had no excuse to go to bed at a reasonable hour), and after co-planning the event I wanted to be the one to see it to its end. I looked around the group, feeling warmed that although only 8 people had turned up (including myself and the staff obligated to be there), we were an enthusiastic bunch. 

I noticed then that we seemed to be a member down. I looked over everyone, studying their faces before it came to me. 
I leant over to Megan, and whispered, “Did you serve the Scandi-looking chap?”
“‘Scandi’ as in ‘scandalous’? Or like…Swedish? Do you mean the chap with the devilish man-bun?” She smirked. “No, I haven’t seen him since just before midnight, actually.”
“Well, the door’s locked, he must be around somewhere.” I summarised.
“Yeah, I have the key for the front door, and if he’d gone out of the service entrance by the stairs an alarm would’ve sounded.” Megan replied, brandishing her keys. 

It occurred to us at this point that we should’ve taken a register – we would’ve been able to shout his name to find him. We settled on hollering ‘THE TILL IS CLOSING’ for a few seconds, and after he didn’t reappear, we each set off down a different row of books to find him, thinking he had headphones in or had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion – the entire time he had been here, he had only had the single americano, and it went half-finished. 

The Greek Gods set off towards Poetry and Romance, James went back upstairs to see if he had returned to the café, the blind man remained with Megan at the tills, the Librarian took Non-Fiction and Classics, and I headed towards Comics and Young Adult, where I thought I’d meet up with the Gods again. 

I walked through the Merchandise section and took a hard right into comics. I cast my eyes past the Young Adult section and its promotional table, thinking I should return during opening hours to take advantage of the Buy One Get One Free. After not seeing Scandi, I turned on my heel, intending to make my way back to the till. 

I froze in my tracks and my blood curdled – I, involuntarily, let out the most harrowing scream I’ve ever made. The Librarian rounded the bookcase of the classic section and started to make her way to me – I held up my hand as I visibly gagged, shaking, in a feeble attempt to stop her advancing any further. I had clearly failed to get the message across, because as she rushed towards me to assist with whatever it was she thought I was going through, her gaze followed my own down to the bloody heap on the floor in the crook of the Crime section. She clasped a hand over her mouth, and sidled backwards with a hand reaching out to me. It took everything in me to steady both of us, but soon the rest of the group had joined and were stuck between helping one another and trying not to vomit. The Greek Gods had hold of one another, the woman sobbing silently into the man’s chest as he shielded her eyes. Megan led Eli by the arm, and they both gasped as they rounded the corner to see the gruesome sight. Megan choked on her own breath, before letting us know that she was calling the police. We all stood there in a silent panic, actively trying to avoid looking at the body.

Megan returned a couple minutes later to let us know that police were on their way. 
“They said they’d be about a quarter of an hour. Due to the football game that went on this evening, a lot of them are already dispersed throughout the city dealing with the left-over hooligans, or else back at the station and dealing with the perps they’ve already caught.”

Fifteen minutes.

“I think we should all move away from-” I paused a second, looking around. “Did anyone know his name?” 
The group looked around at one another, dumbfounded. We definitely should’ve taken a register. 
“Did anyone see if he had a bag?” I asked. 
“At this point, wouldn’t anything belonging to him be considered evidence? I don’t think we should touch anything that might be his.” Megan made a good point. I should’ve known better around a bunch of Crime and Mystery enthusiasts.

A jolt of electricity burst through me – I really shouldn’t have been so excited about a murder, but I couldn’t contain myself. Years of reading Jeffery Deaver and Dan Brown (do not judge me), as well as the teen-lit Maureen Johnson and Holly Jackson, had set me up for this. I really believed I could solve the murder before the police arrived, but time was ticking. 

“Everyone, upstairs. Megan, stay with me.” I’d never had an authoritative bone in my body, but suddenly I was barking orders like a rabid dog with a clipboard. Without hesitation, the rest of the group, who I now had the excuse to ask the names of, marched back up to the café with James as their lead. 
I turned to Megan. “Can you walk me through what happened this evening? Starting with Me entering, in as much detail as you can.” Megan looked flabbergasted. 
“No, no- I don’t-” I lost my composure. “I don’t suspect you, though I suppose it could technically be any one of us. Though I guess not because we all saw him alive and then without anyone moving, he was suddenly dead-” I rambled, my mouth spewing whatever was running through my brain at the time. 
“No, I get it. Theoretically it couldn’t have been any one of us, but one of us must have seen something. I saw you enter around 6:30pm, you said ‘hi’ to me and James. He was helping me fix my little dictaphone,” she looked around me to point at the device, about the size of an iPod Nano, sitting under the counter of the till. “I’ve been using it to record book ideas when I’m on the go, it’s smaller than a pen and paper and I can just ramble into it- sorry, doing that now. Okay, so at about 7pm, James went upstairs so he could actually do his job and serve you and the- wait, sorry. The man with the tinted glasses – please do ask people their names if you question anyone else – he arrived about fifteen minutes after you did.”
I nodded, remembering seeing him take his seat in the café around the same time. 
“Okay, so you came at 6:30pm, the tinted glasses around 6:45pm, and James went upstairs around 7pm. I pottered around downstairs for about an hour, just tidying the point of sales, and then the couple – maybe that’s too presumptuous – the duo?”
“The ones who look like they’d fit in if placed on Mount Olympus?” I chuckled, and Megan agreed. 
“Yeah, they came in around 8pm.”
“They must’ve spent some time downstairs because I didn’t see them until 9pm.” I interjected. 
“Yeah, I served them just before 9pm, they bought about 8 books between them. A lot of Homer and Poe. Anyway, the-” she paused here, and it was clear she didn’t know how to form the next sentence. “…the victim arrived around fifteen minutes after them, so that puts his arrival at 8:15pm. I could see one half of the duo in the poetry section – she looked thoroughly distracted by one of the Sarah Crossan books, so I knew I had time to collect the Anna shipment from the service entrance; she didn’t need me on the till right then. I opened the door, tapped my fob to disarm the alarm, grabbed the box whilst the door was still open, and went straight back to the till. I was gone for all of 3 minutes, tops.” 

Megan was clearly a reliable choice for my first in questioning – not only was she the eyes and ears of the shop but she was incredibly attentive. She pushed her glasses further up onto her nose by the bridge. 
“The quiet, nerdy-looking girl that was reading the Lippincott came next, around 9:30pm. She went straight upstairs, so I cleaned down the tills and the rest of the desk, tidied the point of sales again, and locked the front door at 10:30pm before coming upstairs to you guys and-” she blushed lightly, averting my gaze.
“And James?” I smirked, and Megan blushed harder. She stood, and was half-way across the shop floor before I called her name. “Can I use the dictaphone? I’ve got some written notes but it’d make this miles easier.”

She darted up the stairs, and sent down the blind man next. 

“Hi,” I began, pondering how to begin. “My name’s Darsha. I’ve been sitting on the adjacent table to you since you arrived in the café.” 
“Darsha.” He repeated my name. “Nice to meet you. I’m Eli.” Finally. I wrote his name and a short description down on a pad that had been lying next to the tills.
“Can you walk me through tonight? Starting with you arriving.” I asked.
“Well, I came in through the front door around 6:45pm, I know Grimm’s like the back of my hand so I didn’t need my cane, and headed straight upstairs. As you’ll have seen, I sat down in my seat, popped in my headphones, and carried on with The Stone Monkey audiobook I’d been listening to.
“Is it a good read?” I asked. I already knew – it had been recommended to me by my other half many years ago. 
“It’s my third time reading it, if that tells you anything.” He laughed. “I’ve had two coffees, finished my Deaver, and was just listening to music and waiting for midnight to hit. I heard someone, I’m guessing the victim, stand up and descend the stairs sometime between 11:30pm and midnight, but I couldn’t tell you the exact time. Then we all went downstairs for the release.”

I nodded, imagining myself in his feet as I mentally mapped his journey around the building. “Did you hear anything strange after the victim went downstairs?” I asked. 
He shook his head. “My music was too loud, sorry.” 

“That’s fine, thank you for your help. Could you send down-” I paused, unsure of how to describe to him the person I wanted to see next. I certainly couldn’t send him back upstairs for him to say ‘Darsha wants to see the nerdy girl or one of Zeus’ own offspring next, please’. “Send down whoever volunteers next, please.” 
He nodded, rising from his seat.

Next down the stairs was James, who quickly recounted the same thing as Megan – he saw me enter, saw Eli enter, then came up to the café to serve us. He saw the victim arrive, the Greek Gods arrive, the Librarian arrive, and between brewing our coffees sat reading his own book, Before the Coffee Gets Cold, which I thought was fitting. After thanking him, I asked him to send down whoever he wanted, in the same fashion as Eli before him.

The Librarian was the next to recount her story. 

“I arrived a lot later than everyone else, it seems. I didn’t get here while 9:30pm, and came straight upstairs. I waved to the lady on the tills as I passed, Megan, I believe. And then…” she trailed off, locking eyes with me. “I sat at your table reading and sharing the odd glance.” She was still gripping her copy of She Gets the Girl, which was dog-eared at around the midway point. My stomach did an involuntary somersault. 
“My name’s Aubrey, by the way.” She whispered, eyes still looking into mine.
“Darsha.” Was all I managed before she was back up the stairs, and one of the Gods replaced her. 

“Maya.” She held out her hand to me before sitting – it was well manicured and adorned with gold rings and bracelets.
“Darsha.” I took her hand and shook it gently whilst she took a seat across from me.
“I was going to bring Oren with me, but I thought if you were questioning people, you’d prefer to speak with us alone so the stories match up.” I was gently reminded that we were all here for the release of a murder mystery novel – I really shouldn’t be surprised these people knew their shit. 
“Anyway, Oren and I got here around 8pm.-” I jotted ‘Oren’ down on the paper with his description, too. “I stayed in the poetry section, mainly. I got this book I’ve only heard good things about, The Weight of Water, it’s contemporary fiction written in the style of a poem, and it’s all about the isolation of a young immigrant girl coming to the UK for the first time-” She cut herself short before taking a breath. “Uh, sorry. Oren took our bags upstairs and left them at the table behind you. I was reading the blurb and skipping through a couple pages, someone entered through the front door but I can’t remember who, I was too engrossed, and then around 9pm, Oren and I met at the tills to make our purchases.” The speed at which she spoke would’ve given my audiobooks a run for their money, it was almost as if she couldn’t wait to tell me. I nodded.
“Anyway, I’ll send Oren down next. By my count, he should be the last to interview, right? Which is good, considering you’ve got maybe 7 minutes before the police are due to arrive.”
I looked at her dumbfounded.
“That’s why you’re questioning us, right? To see if you can figure it out before they get here? It’s the only thing that makes sense.” I had to hand it to her – she was 100% correct.

Finally, Oren descended the stairs. 

“Oren,” I began. “I’m Darsha. Could you tell me everything that happened between you arriving and the victim being found?”

His story started out the same as Maya’s – the only difference being that after he had set their bags down, he had wandered over to the Classics section, which was corroborated by the talk of his newest copy of The Odyssey. He confirmed they did meet back up at the till at 9pm and then came upstairs, which lined up with everyone else’s statements. 
I released him back to the sanctuary of the café, acutely aware that I was now alone in the shop with a dead body. Daring myself to face my fears, I rounded the corner of the merch stand and into the Crime Fiction section. The one thing I hadn’t actually done is examine the body – of course, I wouldn’t touch him, but maybe there’s an insight to something. 

It was still too early for me to notice any blood pooling, but I suppose if half of his blood was all over the floor, it might never be noticeable. I surveyed him from all angles; I could see a dagger between his shoulder blades, and on further inspection, noticed it was a replica grabbed from one of the merch stands around the corner, a display piece modelled after one of the elven fantasy books that had been released a couple years ago. It had a silver-coloured filigree handle, and from knowledge of the series, I knew the blade itself was shaped like a feather. It was also planted firmly in his back, all the way to the hilt. His head was closest to my feet, which meant that he fell backwards after the blow – this explained the sheer amount of blood loss. On the inside of his shirt collar, I could see a hand-stitched tag.

‘Heskell’, it read. So that was our mystery Scandi’s name. 

I glanced at my phone – five minutes before the police arrived. I needed to think. 
We didn’t hear anything, which means he must’ve been muffled as he was attacked – this meant the killer had to be relatively tall. It ruled out me and Aubrey, who were both a measly 5’3. For the amount of blood lost, and the fact it was on the hilt of the dagger, it meant the killer would’ve literally had his blood on their hands. That would rule out Maya, whose hands looked like they’d never seen dust, let alone blood, and getting blood off all that gold would’ve taken forever.

That leaves us with Eli, Oren, James, and Megan. But none of it made sense – none of us went downstairs after Heskell. Which means there must’ve been someone else in the shop with us – a chill ran through me at the thought they could’ve still been somewhere in Grimm’s.

Without knowing who had killed him, or at least anything about him, I couldn’t determine a motive.

Four minutes – shit. 

Okay, I entered at 6:30pm. 

Eli entered at 6:45pm. 

James came upstairs at 7pm.

Oren and Maya arrived at 8pm. 

Megan said she saw Heskell enter at 8:15pm, but Maya didn’t because she was in the Romance section, which didn’t have a view of the front door. 

Maya saw someone enter at 8:30pm, but Megan said the next person arrived at 9:30pm, which was Aubrey. That means – 

Someone arrived in the shop whilst Megan was grabbing the Anna shipment from the service door. 

Getting somewhere. 

Megan was back on the tills within 5 minutes, and no one else entered after Aubrey at 9:30pm. Megan locked the door and came upstairs at 10:30pm. She said the service door is alarmed unless she uses the staff key fob, so that eliminates that door being used as their exit. The only windows are at the back of the building, they’re all up too high and even then the drop on the other side would be too big to get away without at least spraining something. 

I needed to stop.

Instead of focusing on how they got out, I had to focus on them getting in. 

Megan saw Heskell enter, but then fifteen minutes later when Megan was gone, Maya was near the door and saw someone enter. That means it can’t’ve been the same person, because you can’t enter twice. Maya and Oren went upstairs, and-

I paused, three minutes left, every thought in my head halting alongside my breath. 

Maya said she saw someone enter through the front door, but couldn’t remember who it was. She went upstairs half an hour later, and hadn’t queried why the person she had seen enter wasn’t up there. 

That means whoever Maya saw entering the bookshop was in the café when she came upstairs. 

There was something I was still missing. How could Maya have seen any of us entering at 8:30pm when we were already sitting upstairs? Heskell was no help, he clearly didn’t see who had attacked him because they had stabbed him in the back. 

Unless Heskell knew the person who attacked him – either that, or it was someone he didn’t believe would be capable of such a thing, someone who would maybe struggle to execute the plan.

A puzzle piece fell into place in my mind. Two minutes left. I had to act on a hunch, with my gut instinct. 

My feet pounded up the stairs. I reached past Aubrey on my right, grabbing an empty coffee cup. I moved so quickly, no one was able to warn him. I thrust the coffee cup at Eli, who instinctively threw his hands up to guard his face. 

The cup was, of course, empty. Any remnants of coffee and sugar had solidified into a single, uniform ring at the base of the cup. Silence fell over the café. I turned to see everyone looking towards us, mouth agape. 

One minute left.

I returned my gaze to Eli, who was still sitting, arms raised. He lowered them slowly, refusing to turn to me. 
“How did you know, Eli?” I asked, placing the cup on the table in front of him. “Why did you flinch?”
Tentatively, he removed the tinted glasses from his face. His eyes met mine for the first time. 
“How did you know?” He responded, somewhere between confusion and arrogance. 
“I didn’t. Not completely.” I confessed. “I hate the ‘it was the twin’ trope at the best of times, but I never expected it to be something that would happen outside of a cheesy crime novel.”
“What do you mean?” Oren asked, who was now holding Maya protectively. 
Despite blocking his only entrance, I refused to let Eli out of my sight for a second.
“When you rounded the corner with Megan, before any of us could verbalise to you what was going on, you rounded that corner and you gasped. How could you possibly have known if you were blind?” 
He gulped. 
“There’s someone else’s name embroidered onto the shoulder of your backpack. That, coupled with the fact that Maya wasn’t surprised to see you sitting up here after she saw who she thought was you enter the café, would lead me to believe that maybe you’re a twin.”
“You’re shitting me.” Aubrey squeaked. 

The café was gradually bathed in blue flashing lights. 
“They really meant a quarter of an hour, didn’t they?” I smirked as Megan passed around the back of me to let in the police and ambulance crew. 

After handing over my notes on the interviews, as well as my own statement, I was alerted by the police that there was no one else on the property. They had scoured the entirety of Grimm’s, behind every shelf, and swept the place; there’s nowhere anyone could have run to or hidden. 

“It’s a good theory, but if the twin was here, he’s long gone.” I looked at the officer’s badge – PC Pyran. The expression on my face had involuntarily said what my mouth would not. “I’m sorry, love. We don’t always get the full picture. We’ll be launching a full investigation, and although I won’t be able to let you know of the outcome, I’ve no doubt it’ll be all over the front of the courier in a few days.”
PC Pyran placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. The foil blanket that the paramedics had placed around my (and everyone else’s) shoulders crinkled under his palm, and set my teeth on edge. I never understood why they used those for ‘trauma’; I know it was the middle of February, and it was cold outside, but Grimm’s had been toasty enough, and my determination had kept me fuelled. 

As the main suspect, Eli was taken away from Grimm’s, willingly, and disappeared first into the back of a police van, and then around the corner past the Dog and Gun. As for the rest of us, our contact details were taken, and interviews were arranged for later that day, once we had all had a semi-decent night’s sleep and washed the image of Heskell’s lifeless body out of our minds. James offered to drive Megan back to her place. Oren and Maya were picked up by Maya’s roommate. Eli had gone with the police, Heskell with the ambulance. After a brief chat, Aubrey and I realised we lived on opposite sides of the city, so would have to separate. I bid her goodbye, and she made me promise to text her when I had gotten home safely. I promised I would.

As I retraced the steps I had taken the evening prior, I passed the pub, still raucous following the football game, despite it now being close to 1am; it was evident that our team had won. I thought it was absurd that after the night I’d had, and what I’d seen, that they’d been living their best lives just across the high street. I had to laugh to myself at the thought of all the times my parents had comforted themselves about my hobby – ‘it could be worse, she could be out drinking into the small hours, or doing drugs’. I couldn’t wait to see the look on my mom and dad’s face when I, who probably wouldn’t wake until around 11am, had to tell them that the book release I’d tandem planned with another quiet nerd had ended in a literal murder mystery. I rounded the corner of Grimm’s and chanced a glance at the service entrance – and that’s when I noticed that the decrepit breaker box had a handful of wires hanging limply from it. My feet ceased their pounding; my heart, however, refused to, and what once was the background noise of my body became the only thing I could hear. 

Tentatively, I stepped closer. I heard Megan’s voice play back in my head, saying that we shouldn’t touch anything that could be considered evidence. After surveying the wires, their frayed copper and strained rubber, I could determine that they had been pulled with some force from the breaker box. The new information swam in my head as I took a couple of steps back. I turned on my heel, intending to retrieve PC Pyran, to show him my new findings. I felt a prickling in my spine as I realised someone was watching me. I looked to the shopping centre to see a familiar face staring back. This time, PC Pyran’s voice rang back clear in my mind. ‘We don’t always get the full picture.’ 

I wish I could tell you that I left well enough alone. I wish I could tell you that I pretended not to see him, like his brother before me, that I sheepishly turned around and alerted the police, or that I stood rooted to the spot and screamed, but my curiosity wouldn’t allow it. Mustering my courage, I approached him. He stood, nonchalantly leaning against the wall of the shopping centre, arms folded, like he hadn’t just taken someone’s life. There was still a trace amount of blood in the crooks of his knuckles and under his nails. I tucked my hands into my cardigan pockets, and was relieved to feel a familiar shape. I faced him, placed only a metre and a half away, trying to be as imposing as a 25-year-old with no muscle mass, and who only stood at 5’3, could be.
“Spencer, I assume.” It wasn’t a question. 
“Indeed.” He said, looking to the floor, and then up to match my gaze. “I suppose you’re wondering how?”
“I know how.” Maybe I was being a bit too confident, a bit too cocky – Heskell didn’t mean anything to me personally. He probably wondered why I cared so much. “But I need to hear you say it.”
Spencer smirked. “If you need to hear it, you don’t know how.” 
Great – not only was he a murderer, but also a prick with a massive ego.
“I’m guessing you cased Grimm’s, saw that when Megan had to receive a delivery, there was no one at the tills, and you saw the delivery of Anna as an opportunity to sneak in. You didn’t know Maya would be near the door, but your contingency plan had already been sitting upstairs for almost two hours. You look so alike – if Maya had been paying more attention, she would’ve been your alibi – she saw you enter, and then she saw who she thought was you sitting upstairs, all whilst the murder took place.”
He remained silent. My frustration bubbled inside me. 
“Eli was pretending to be blind. Maya and Oren arrived, and Oren reserved the table behind me, facing onto the high street, luckily for you. The only remaining table was the one across from Eli, overlooking the balcony, and only had one chair. I’d say it was a coincidence, but I don’t believe that.”
He chuckled softly. “Good observation.”I had to believe at this point that he suspected me of something. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from crying ‘admit it!’. I composed myself, and continued. 
“Heskell took the open table at the balcony, meaning that no one else could possibly have a view of the shop floor. Maya and Oren eventually took their table, Aubrey sat with me, and Megan hung around the bar with James. That meant you were free to skulk about downstairs after entering, and only Eli and Heskell knew. Judging by how suspicious of Eli he was, I bet he knew someone was out to get him.”
His face was twisting into smugness.
“And that’s why…” I had to word the next part carefully – I cast my initial guess aside and concluded my sentence, “…you were able to sneak up behind Heskell without him seeing you, and plunge the knife into his back.”
His bellowing laugh startled me. “Surely, I thought you were smarter than that. In the beginning, Eli would be on the balcony signalling with a touch of his glasses or a sip of his coffee on whether I was too close to another event member, or if I was out of their line of sight and free to move about. Coffee meant move, glasses meant stop and hide. When Heskell came downstairs, I approached him, rounded the corner slowly, patting at the shelves in my own pair of tinted glasses, and the thick sod thought Eli had followed him down the stairs. He stayed silent, didn’t move. I could tell he was trying to minimise any noise so I thought the area was empty and would move on. He didn’t consider it was all an act. When he thought I’d passed, when he had his back to me, that’s when I plunged the knife in.”
My breath hitched at the image playing out in my imagination. 
“Scared?” Spencer asked, righting himself so he was no longer leaning against the wall. 
“Why did you do it?” I felt nauseated. I completely ignored his question, afraid that there was no correct answer. I sensed he knew my answer anyway.

He took two steps towards me, closing the gap between us completely. I could feel his breath on my cheek; my body went into alert, and I could feel every nerve screaming for me to run. 
“There’s just some things you’ll never know, unfortunately.” He said in a hushed, calm tone. His shoulder was pressed against mine for what felt like an eternity before he turned and walked away, skulking off into the darkness of the city’s backstreets. Frightened, I waited until he was completely out of my line of sight before I released my breath. Tears streamed involuntarily down my face, relieved I no longer had to fear for my life (or keep my composure). 

I retrieved Megan’s dictaphone from deep within my cardigan pocket, and hit ‘Stop’.