Chelsea Forsham

I stand there, rooted into place, staring aimlessly at the family portraits. The portraits that captured us all at our happiest, the portraits that gave us these memorable moments, that help us come to terms with their demise, allowing me and my sister to remember how loving, caring and passionate they both were. All while still allowing us to move on with our life's.

I trace my fingers along the frame of the portrait, looking into my father's eyes, thinking, 'what happened dad?, why did you leave us?'. I thought that somehow I would be able to imagine him back into existence, it wouldn't have been real but, it would have felt real, as if he was beside me once again. I tried and I tried, but nothing, my own imagination now abandoning me.

Of course, I have always loved my father but, there were times when our relationship broke apart, his work keeping him distant and preventing true connections with his beloved family. I knew that it had nothing to do with a lack of care for us, no, the reasons so much more heart-breaking.

Father was just a baby when he was left outside a factory on a cold, wet, winters night. His screams falling on deaf ears, as the workers had already gone home for the night. He was alone for a whole night, no one there to comfort him and even when he was found the next day, he was placed into the system, passed from foster home to foster home, to carer to carer. It was all just a job for them, never truly loving those they cared for. He had no one to call his own, leaving him forever with a void, that could only be filled by the love of a mother and a father, that he could call his own. 

This was why he worked so hard, his job taking priority. He had endured a rough childhood, limited money and gifts, trips were rare and often local, his life strict and orderly. He didn't have the chance to do what many kids his age were doing and because of his sad and lonely childhood, father wanted to give us our best chance. Tutors, luxurious holidays and lavish gifts, were just a few of the things our father squandered away his money on. Many people would have loved this spoilt life but, what I really wanted was my father and his love, passion and support. I could have lived without all the luxury, if I knew my father was by my side. I mean the best gifts I ever got from him were those that came from within his heart, the ones he made with his bare hands. Oh now they were the best. 

Paul Harvey 

With the forensics team now here, I decide to let them continue on with the search. I give them prompts on what can be counted as substantial evidence, before then leaving them be. It was like I was their leader and they my minions, obeying my every command.

I knew the girls would be aching, my actions and words only briefly easing the loneliness and misery that they both so deeply felt. But, if I was the one to block out this pain, letting them briefly forget about all their troubles, I would feel so greatly accomplished. I thought a game would brighten their spirits but, the Forsham household was overloaded with a variety of games. I knew it had to be specially selected, the game itself carrying a significant bond between the girls and their father.

Of course, I had just the game, a board game that held a deep meaningful place inside the girls hearts. The game was a special because it was made by Clive Forsham himself. It was called Real Estate and was very much alike Monopoly but, instead of buying properties, the aim was to sell them. The girls loved this game because not only did it leave them delighted and pleased but, it allowed them insight into their fathers career.

I pull the game from the cupboard, striding positively down the steps, a sense of pride and pleasure held deep inside my heart. 

Although, this happiness did not come to last, as awaiting at the bottom of these stairs was a home now overcrowded with so many unwanted, unneeded guests. They swarmed around the girls, like bees. all trying to comfort them at once. It was pure carnage. The girls squeezed between them all, just standing their lost, frightened and confused.

Seeing this horror splayed out in front of me, causes me to loose my footing, causing me to trip on down the steps. The game falling from my fingertips and dispersing all over the hallway floor

I feel a familiar chunk of flesh grab my arm, helping me up to my feet. As I stand, I see Carlos's cheeks blush a shameful red. A deep sense of guilt and embarrassment enriched in his mood. I wanted to understand his reasoning but, that was for another time. We still had plenty of work still to do.

So, instead, I simply said "Just, get them out. I will stay with the girls for now." It seemed like a solid plan but, dear old Carlos had his own set plan.

His plan required me to accompany him to a potential lead, to question this person, to understand the nature of their relationship between the victim.

Carlos had found a set of receipts, that seemed at first simple and ordinary but, on a closer inspection I came to realise these were all for the same restaurant. These receipts proved that my dear friend Clive Forsham visited Enchatned Feats well over 30 times in the span of only 2 months.

With a heavy heart I agree to travel to this restaurant that lies in a far of neighbouring town. It is a 20 minute drive to this town, which of course leaves me plenty of time to research this establishment, contemplating my findings and analysing how this then fits into what I know about Clive.

I hated this feeling of leaving the girls alone with their burden, allowing them to experience a deep sense of emotional turmoil all by themselves. I knew that Seymor (the officer that sat with the girls, while they waited for our arrival) was with them now, comforting them and listening to their stories of saddens, reminiscing on the good old times. Of course I could not fault this man, he was hardworking, kind Hearted and supportive. However, he was no me. He was just a stranger, a stranger that they have never known.

We're finnaly here and the building and its setup was so much more glamourous and beautiful than I could have ever depicted. It had auroa of magic surrounding it, a magic of love and hope. A long line of eager people patientley waited for there turn to feast.

The staff were all women, well except from one measly, grizzly security guard. Other than that, they were just young, beautiful, girls, that put the beuty of goddesses to shame.

We walk right up to the front of line, receiving many cries and objections from those within the line. We could easily just walk straight in but, standing in our path was a man.

A man of pure muscle, a man with a toned, athletically fit body. His arms like blades of steel.

His voice gruff and deep, as he says "Oi, back of the line you two."

Of course, before any blood is shared, Carlos pulls out his badge and explains are reasons for being here.

A few moments later we sit in a refined oak wooden chair with a cushionable piece of red velvet, in the owners own private office.

The owner was a woman that was coming into the years of age and although most accept the changes of age, she was one of the many few, that wished to remain with her features of youth, a desperation to still be young, while they grew old. Her hair has been curled and dyed, stopping her fear from becoming a reality. Stopping people seeing her as a old grandma and instead the beautiful princess that she longed to be once again.

I scan my eyes around the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary, anything that could be related to this case. I also allow my eyes to analyse this woman that is before me. My conclusion being she seemed harmless enough, her relationships professional but, reachable.

I was going to lead this questioning, demonstrating to the Sheriff, the way in which you should word your sentences, the way in which you should phrase, so as to get what you desire, without causing any or limited unrest.

"Ms Harper, we are investigating the murder of Clive Forsham and we were  wondering if you wouldn't mind sparing us a few moments of your time, so that we can ask a few questions." I say with confidence and conviction on the outside but, inside a sense of absence and longing takes a root inside.

Ms harper sits open mouthed, as she takes in this news. Her body no longer showing signs of calmness and strength but, instead fear and nerves. As evidenced, by her now clammy hands and difficulty communicating her words.

"I take it you knew him." I say with a calm, gentle voice of understanding.

She gives a weak little nod, before then saying this "He was a regular here, used to come all the time, ordered the Quil of Tesh and a Cordian coke. Actually, as I come to think of it, I haven't seen him in a while. Last time had to be 2 weeks back now."

"Do you have any idea, why he may have stopped coming?"

"No!"

I knew in that moment she was lying, after all she jumped on that bandwagon way to quickly. It was as if she knew the answer, before I had even asked the question.

However, it was no use persisting, she wouldn't give me anything, unless I had evidence backing up those claims.

So, for now, I say goodbye and exit from this cosy little office. Carlos had already left a few moments earlier, after receiving a call from the lab.

I find Carlos talking to a young chap. I wander over to them both and I hear this boy quite clearly state "I accidentally overheard your conservation earlier and I think I can help."

I was greatly intrigued, this boy now offering us more to this enigma of a puzzle. A puzzle, that with all the pieces collected, will have a monster safely locked behind bars.