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Footsteps
It was a Friday night, December. It was blasting outside, nearly 30 inches of snow had already accumulated. Everyone from the town country club was gathered in the mayor's mansion for a dinner party he and his wife were throwing. I was the chosen journalist sent there to cover the occasion. There were fancy butlers towing around trays of cocktails and martinis, the housekeepers with hors d'oeuvres. The fireplace was crackling, but it was still frigid in there due to a broken window. Kind of tacky for such a lavish mansion.
Everyone was socializing in the commons area, waiting for the mayor to arrive. I was keeping to myself, sitting on a burgundy-colored leather armchair, sipping on a small water bottle I got from a bucket full of ice, looking at all of the hunting prizes he had hung on his wall.
I could hear subtle bumps coming from the room above us, but I never thought anything of it as no one else seemed to notice.
It started to get louder, however. Muffling could now be heard. I could see some of the other citizens start to perk up.
SLAM
Everyone flinched at the impact of a 100-pound door.
Footsteps were heard sauntering down the stairs, everyone was quite still. The doorknob of the double doors began to jiggle, and they slowly begin to open. I stared intently.
"Welcome, folks. I hope you all haven't been too bored."
The mayor enters the room and everyone simultaneously begins clapping. He had mutton chops and a pocket watch hanging out of his coat like it was still 1870.
I take out my pad and pen and prepare to start taking notes for the journal. Mayor Devereux was walking around the room shaking hands with all of the guests. I noticed a small red stain on his dress shirt.
I stood up and began slowly making my way toward the area of the room he was in. I had just noticed his wife was no where to be seen. I started jotting down my concerns. This was most likely all coincidental, but could I be too sure?
I finally got over to the mayor.
"Hello, Mayor Devereux. Do you have any comments for the town journal before the evening begins?"
I was merely ignored.
"Sorry for the wait, but if everyone could follow me to the dining area, then we can begin the dinner meal!"
The dining room was only a few rooms down. The mayor was first out, and we all followed.
It was a grand room, could sit about 70 people. I sat in a corner, and a few other people occupied the same table. The smell of gourmet cooking filled the air, My standards were set to having gold flakes in the food.
The mayor's wife still hasn't shown, and I took note of that. I tried talking about it to the other people at my station, but they put their nose up to me.
After about 30 minutes, dinner was served. No gold flakes, but they had oysters.
Mayor Devereux was coming over to us, and I started thinking about the questions I'd ask.
"How's dinner everyone?"
Before the other three could get a word in edgeways, I began speaking.
"Where's your wife, Mayor?"
"That's Devereux to you, and she's a bit ill with the flu, I'm afraid."
The others expressed concern, but I asked where the bathroom was.
"Upstairs, take a left, second door. It's labeled with bathroom."
I got up, I didn't have to use the bathroom though.
The stairs had a purple and white carpet draped over them. Seems like a slipping hazard to me. When I got to the top, I spotted the gold-plated bathroom sign, but I also saw the drawing room. I decided to peek inside.
I couldn't believe my eyes. A knife wound had killed Mrs. Devereux.
I ran downstairs to the telephone and dialed the town detective. Luckily, he had been invited to the party, and was seated in the other room. I led him to the mayor's wife and soon the once elegant party became complete chaos.
Everyone was scrambling. People were trying to leave, but the snow outside had barricaded the door.
The detective began questioning everyone, beginning with Mayor Devereux. He looked sweaty, in shock. When detective Grey asked about the red stain on his shirt, he simply said it was red wine. He calmly said he hadn't realized he spilled some on himself when he was trying to lift his poor, old wife from her wheelchair into her bed. Me and detective Grey both started writing. The mayor wasn't ruled out just yet, but there was another suspect. There was one person at this party no one had ever seen. Dressed as a butler, that's what everyone assumed he was. Mayor Devereux said he'd never seen him either. Detective Grey walked up to him as slowly as he could.
"Who are you?"
"A butler, detective."
"Nobody here has ever seen you. Did you know Mrs. Devereux?"
"Yes, she was my first wife."
Everyone was silently confused.
"LIAR!" Mayor Devereux shouted, his emotions began to rise and tears fell down his face.
"Why would I lie? She told me the day we were divorced that I was irreplaceable... and that I would get all of her money the day she dies."
"Are you confessing to her murder?"
The mystery butler and detective stared at each other for a few seconds. I could see Grey was trying to piece it all together.
"All I am saying is whoever it was, I shall get her riches."
The butler reached for his hip, and everyone knew what would happen next in that moment.
The police in the room yelled at everybody to get down and they tackled the butler. Ambulances and seemingly the whole police department showed up. News vans and other journalists set up microphones and cameras, only trying to make a quick buck at the expense of Mrs. Devereux.
That night after I got home, I took the pad out of my pocket. I decided to tear up the notes and throw them away.
The butler was put away. He was deemed insane, proven to be lying.
Mayor stepped down from his position and left town. He was never seen around those parts again.
As for me, I never picked up a notepad again.
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This piece was a writing prompt for my creative writing class.