The Case In The Murders Of Monroe by Jack A. Ling (robert munsch read aloud .txt) 📖

I awake upon a dark, cold night. A cold unknown to any mortal. Every speck of snow sent a sharp pain into my spinal cord. As I raise my head up, I notice a field lay in front of me. Snow piled on the dense, frozen ground. A smell then shot up my nostrils as I explored near the forest to my right. As I take my first step into the tree and brush, a crisp, cold crackle sounded behind I. I jump into the forest, paying no attention to my senses. As this cripple overtakes I, a tree produces itself in my way from the distance and I rush my head into the body of it.
“Sir?” said a deep, familiar voice.
I respond with nothing.
“Sir Ling? Oh, I simply knew I would find you near the trees!”
“Who is there?” I said with confusion from my loss of sight.
“Ah, it has been a time after all! I am none but Doctrine Nicholas. Hath thou forgotten?”
“Oh, yes! Have the years treated you well, my apprentice?”
“I am afraid not. But aside the point, you must have questions.”
“Only where I am.”
“All questions shall be answered, sir. Please, follow.”
Before I continue with my tale, I feel that an explanation is order. Doctrine Nicholas and I met in Baltimore several years afore. He was to show me the town when I arrived for the investigation of a murder of Madam Madeline Monroe. He inherited crazy, dark hair from his mother; and got his evil mind from his father. Immediately, I noticed his passion for death and his understanding of murderers (for he was an ex-convict). Therefore, I recruited he as my apprentice in the murder and many more to come. But, this shall be explained in a later tale.
A large, metal door resided in front of us. The door led to a large stone building. The building being at least fifty feet in height and two-hundred feet wide.
“Here we are! The home of Sir Argile Monroe, the far cousin of the late Madeline,” my friend said with a smile.
“Ah,” I began, “I assume, by the smile on your face, that this is a case involving murder.”
“Oh, how the years have not changed thy knowledge of I!”
“Indeed. Now shall we enter?”
“Let's.”
Upon taking my first step into the castle, a great comfort overcame me. The home was warm, comforting, and wide open. It consisted of several large rooms with three sub-rooms inside. Every sub-room contained a bed, four large windows, multiple cabinets, and other accessories.
“Who shall be making our company this cold evening?” I ask to Doctrine.
“Sir Argile shall be here any moment.” He responded only to be cut off by a large man with a rough, strong-looking face.
“Ah, Sir Ling! It is a pleasure to meet you, at last!” the large man said with a booming voice.
“Doctrine, who is this?” I ask my assistant.
“This is no other than Sir Argile Monroe.” I was answered by my friend.
“Oh, yes. Now how, may I ask, that I ended up on your estate?”
“Quite simple really, Sir. I was informed by your friend that you had not been very energetic about cases lately, and how you simply cannot stand the cold. So I had one of my many servants sedate you in order to have you here to solve my case.”
“You say this as casual as anything else.”
“Why yes sir. But I do hope that you understand how dearly I require you assistance.”
“Yes, but there is no need to sedate a man!”
“I was so desperate, I was extremely close to calling the local authorities.”
“Why I never! Don't dare to call such baboons as the authorities or private investigation force! They work only for profit!”
“Why else would you be here?”
“Ah, most clever!”
“Now, may I offer thou a seat and perhaps a drink?”
“Yes, and a simple water would do quite nicely.”
Sir Argile brought us into a large centre of the home. Including a quite grand fireplace, several large chairs, and a set of water. Immediately, I took the seat closest to the fire, as usual in cold situations.
“I infer,” started Argile, “that your friend was correct about your hatred of the cold?”
“Most certainly sir,” I responded with a smile.
“Now to the business at hand?” Doctrine questioned.
“Yes, Argile, why are we here?”
“To investigate the murder of my dear wife Catherine, of course.”
[Now to interject for a quick moment, I must inform you of a crucial detail. In order to make this more of a mystery to those who read, I must keep my inferring thoughts to myself and less important thoughts on paper.]
“What produced the thought that this was murder?”
“After finding the body, we picked up a trace of an iron-silver alloy upon the wounds. We believe the murder to have been made with a knife of such metal.”
“Indeed. Sir, can you explain the environment around her body?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose.”
“Yes, sir, but in murder cases you must think outside of the ordinary. Otherwise, any buffoon could solve the case. As you may not explain what I seek, has the body been moved or touched in any way, shape, or form?”
“No, sir, only by our eyes.”
“Excellent! Where is the body?”
“Out near the garden.”
“We shall leave at once!”
When the thought of a garden popped into my mind, I thought of a simple and beautiful array of flowers and green. Upon entering the gate to this garden, my heart sank to the bottom of my body. This strange garden had only dark green leaves and roses. These roses are some of which are new to my eyes. Not the form. Not the shape. Not the smell. But the color! The color was a dark, deep red. The red of blood. The entrance of the garden was composed only of a formation of wood. This wood was nailed to the shape of a door. The door stabbed into a large “wall” of leaves and roses. What I found most strange was the fact that all was covered in snow, but, the plants were not. In the middle lay the body of the ended Catherine Monroe.
“There!” shouted Argile, “There is the body.”
“A strange position, is it not?” Doctrine asked me in a strange tone.
“Minimally so.” I began, “But, we must not pay attention to the body, but to the surroundings. Would you care to sweep for prints?”
“Not in the slightest, friend.”
“Now, Mr. Argile, When did you discover the body?”
“Well,” Argile began with a tear from his eyes, “I was on a midnight walk through my estate, and I simply stumbled upon it.”
“I see.”
“Sir!” my apprentice screamed as he rand towards us, “There are no prints of man or animal.”
“Did you check the ground?”
“Most certainly, sir. There are several marks in the dirt below the snow.”
“Very interesting. Shall we take a look, Monroe?”
“Why ask the question?”
Upon placing my eyes upon the dirt, which had minimal amounts of snow on it, I smiled a light smile. As for the “marks” that my friend told us about, they seemed like the footprint of a large individual without any toe-prints.
“Quite interesting, wouldn't you say?” asked Doctrine.
“In such a fashion, yes. Now, Argile, you are positive that you know nothing else of this murder?” I ask towards Argile.
“Sir,” he started, “I am more certain about this than anything else.”
“Indeed. We shall start the analysis of the body as soon as I enlighten you gentleman of a few key facts.”
“What facts?” asked Doctrine in a surprised voice.
“Well, first of all, you both believe those marks on the ground to be footprints, no?”
“Of course,” they said in unison.
“I should expect this from men of little talent in the likes of observation. What you gentleman fail to notice is the loss of toe-prints on the mark. And from the small lift of dirt approximately two feet from these marks, I can deduce that she tripped. The two lifts are where the front of her feet flew over. The marks on the extension of her knees from a sliding motion.”
“All this from just marks in the dirt?” Argile asked with a laugh.
“I see not how you failed to realize this, sir. Now, we shall begin examination of the body.”
“Shall you require a blade, sir?” Doctrine asked with a helpful tone.
“Of course not! We only require our eyes.”
“I require a rest, gentleman. I shall return within the hour!” Monroe stated and walked off.
As I reached the body, I had a plan as to how I was to approach this. I began by putting on sterile gloves (to not contaminate the subject). I then unzipped and took off the jacket of Catherine. Under this jacket, Catherine wore a tight-fitting gown. I then took the liberty of removing this, as well as her undergarments. And in removal, I removed all but the woman's clothes below her waist. Snow then began to pile atop her powder-like skin. Upon realization, I began to move at a more rapid pace. Underneath her leftward breast, I noticed a patch of rough skin. To some, this skin would be only a minor detail. But, to I, this could be a major detail in the case. I took a magnifying glass to the subject and gazed into it with a great interest.
“What in the devil are you doing?” Doctrine questioned.
“Do you not see the patch?” I said, demanding.
“Yes. But what does that matter?”
“What does it matter? Doctrine, do not be a fool! In the years of your company, I taught you many things. One of the most important being to never overlook a single detail. Have my methods left your mind?”
“Of course not, sir! But, I simply do not understand how a simple patch of skin could make any progress on a murder.”
“In investigating a murder, you must first become open to all ideas of whether it was murder, suicide, a disease, or any other form of death. For I fear that we may not be dealing with a simple murder, Doctrine.”
“Then what are we dealing with?”
“I shall not plant the idea into thy mind, but, I shall keep it to myself. Now, shall we continue?”
“Yes, sir.”
I then took a large pin-tag and stuck it into the normal skin nearest the patch. I then examined the remainder of the upper body. As I finished the body, I placed a large blanket upon the cold, pale body of she. I now turn my eyes to the face of Catherine. Nothing out of the ordinary shown itself until I turned my attention to her eyes. Bloodshot. I then took a cotton-swab to the inside of her mouth. Upon taking it out, horror struck my soul. What had I seen? Scarlet red. Blood! As assumptions began filling my mind, I take a new swab and place it under her right eye. I move the swab upwards as to move the pupil to the top. I then saw, at the bottom of her eye, a faint yellow substance. Upon investigating, I heard the cough of Sir Argile. I smile.
“Why Sir Argile! Are thou rested well?” I ask with a curious tone.
“A cough hath come over me, but otherwise very well. How goes the research?” he asked.
“Quite well actually. I have noticed excessive bleeding from her mouth, rough patched skin, an extremely dilated eye, and fungus