Diary of Murders by Sarah Cook

Author:Sarah Cook [Cook, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Sarah Cook
Published: 2023-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

My goodness! What luck! What grotesque luck! I cannot contain myself. There is a part of me that wishes to caterwaul throughout this small townhouse. I dare not wake… Oh. I must not dwell.

I am already fearful that the knock has disturbed the household.

This household now knew only silence and dust, settling on once loved ornaments and fine furniture that we had little use or care for. This was our temple for one another. It held our secrets like a confessional box. We would anoint and praise one another until the sunlight beckoned us back into society. The house had passion seeping from the woodwork, drenching our bodies in shadows as we basked in the night like demons.

Now it knows nothing. The shadows only hold shame. The fire is only ornamental. This house is cold and lifeless. It is silence and dust.

No visitors had knocked on the door since Adelaide and her newly born child had been sent away. No visitors. So, a knock as darkness was drawing in scared me from my previous writing. I stayed still in my seat, hoping it was just a figment of imagination. Another procession of knocks. They were neat and concise. Authoritative. I knew at once that it was the Law.

Steeling myself, I answered the door and saw Detective Blythe at my doorstep. The very sight of him must’ve paled my face. I feared he’d find me guilty on the spot. I tried my best to look innocent and confused, perplexed by his appearance. He greeted me with the usual guff platitudes and asked if I was alone. Glancing up the stairs, I breathed in a heavy sigh. I nodded. “In some manner, yes.”

Without another word, he breezed by me into the living room, curiously looking around the place as though there were bloody handprints on the wallpaper and a banner hung from the ceiling screaming “I am the Soho Slayer.”

I nearly chuckled at his squinting saunter across my home. I offered him a drink which he declined silently. Fear not, Detective, for I do not poison. It is the knife by my breast of which you must be afraid.

Regardless he paced as though he were summoning up the courage to accuse me. He said in his usual gruff tone that he was here on a sensitive matter. “Regarding your… case.” He could not look me in the eye. I tried not to look stressed, but my cheeks flushed. He did not notice in the dim gas-lighting as the night snuffed out the last of this heated summer day.

“I hope you are here to tell me that you have caught Harry Wright. Otherwise, this is quite the imposition, Detective.”

“My apologies. Alas, it is not the incarceration of Wright that drives me here.” He stayed still scouting the room with a degree of rumination that I feared would turn into recrimination. At this point, I half-expected him to begin riffling through my belongings. I gave him a stern look.

“Then why are you here detective?!” I almost shouted, wincing as I boomed.

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