Men in general judge more from appearances than from reality. All men have eyes but few have the gift of penetration.
★

It had been a rather uneventful morning for soon-to-be-fired Detective Archer Finn. Well, that would be true if you considered almost being led out of your house at gunpoint by Harleigh's mother uneventful.

Lindsay had somehow managed to find out that he had been kicked off the case and she, just like every member of the Boston Police Department, had jumped to her own conclusions. Archer had had to convince Lindsay that he was not involved in whatever had happened to Harleigh, while simultaneously staying in the safe zone of Lindsay's shotgun. Eventually, she had believed him, but that was after he had haphazardly narrated his childhood story. Lindsay had even allowed him to leave a piece of chocolate cake and a goodbye note for Emilia before she had whisked him away.

Now, they cruised the city like best buddies.

Their journey had began at the Community center where Harleigh had worked. Lindsay and Archer had interviewed everyone present from dancers to actors and even puppeteers. The janitors were not spared as well. They all had the same thing to say about Harleigh Amari. She was a beautiful, kind and committed dancer. Her death was a tragic case of one gone too soon. She would have gone far with her dancing blah blah blah. Archer found it funny how everyone had something nice to say about you when you were dead.

They had also managed to get hold of the manager of the Community center right before he was taken up by an "important" board meeting. The manager had introduced himself to them as Carlos Johnson. Carlos was a plump, short man with a gut that bulged in his charcoal grey suit. His round head held an endless supply of wrinkles, a pair of thick round spectacles and thinning grey hair. It was safe to say that time had been unkind to him. Whether his appearance was a result of stress or bad lifestyle choices, Archer wasn't sure.

Carlos had said that he didn't know of anyone that would have wanted to harm Harleigh. He had been sad about Harleigh's death, but his sadness seemed more as a result of the loss of profits than the loss of life. He had, however, added that a week before Harleigh went missing, Thelma and Harleigh had gotten into an argument. He had claimed not to know what the argument was about and had advised us to ask Thelma about it. Archer had given Carlos his business card and they had left the community center to find Thelma.

Archer parked opposite the entrance of the Easton College campus. They were going to wait for the lunch bell to ring so that they could pounce on Thelma immediately she got out for lunch. It was now more than clear that Thelma was hiding something and Archer was not leaving unless he found out what she was hiding. He was willing to use unorthodox means if it came to that.

Archer's six foot two frame was literally folded over like a burrito in the driver's seat of Lindsay's extremely short mini cooper. The steering wheel dug into his knees, cutting the supply of blood to his legs and the air in the car was stifling. As a result, his clothes were soaked through with sweat. Archer was sure that Lindsay, who was tapping a jolly beat on the dashboard, was having fun seeing Archer fidget. Lindsay still held the determined look in her steely grey eyes. Momma Bear at work.

Looking at Lindsay made him think about his own mother. He was sure that Abigail had already gulped down an entire barrel of vodka today alone. Why wasn't his mother like Lindsay? Why didn't she love him the way Lindsay loved her daughter? Archer was saved from his debilitating thoughts by the shrill ring of the bell. They both checked their watches. It was one pm. Show time.

Archer got out of the car and spared a few seconds to make peace with his back. He cracked it back into an upright position and stretched his legs to restore the flow of blood to his lower body. Nerve endings fired to life causing Archer to wince. Damn he felt old. He pocketed his backup gun in the waistband of his black jeans and pulled down his grey shirt so that it was not so visible.

Lindsay walked towards his side of the car. She had tied her burgundy hair in a messy half bun and her untacked flannel shirt was glued to her back with sweat. Archer could clearly see the bulge of Lindsay's hand gun in the waistband of her mom jeans. Whoever got in Lindsay's path today was going to receive a befitting reply.

They watched casually dressed college students storm out of the double doors that served as both the front entrance and exit to the school in small groups. Most of them were glued to their phones, while others were engrossed in deep, loud conversations about nothing.

Both Archer and Lindsay spied Thelma at the same time. Her strict ponytail and ramrod straight posture gave her away. She was clad in a red halterneck crop top and high-waisted denim shorts. She was walking with another female student who had devoted all her attention to her iPod. Thelma noticed Archer and Lindsay waiting for her and she immediately began to run.

Thelma's running act had surprised Archer but it seemed that Lindsay had expected it because she took off after Thelma almost immediately. Archer was scared that Lindsay would do something in anger; like shooting down their only witness, and he ran after her.

Thelma pushed her way through a thick cloud of college students. A few students, who didn't have the sense to move out of the way, found themselves on the rough tarmac. Lindsay leaped over their fallen bodies and Archer painstakingly did the same. Lindsay was yelling Thelma's name. A few students who had recovered from the shock of the chase had pulled out their phones and were now recording the scene. They were probably going to go viral on some website in a few minutes.

Lindsay was a fit woman for her age. She gained on Thelma easily. She grabbed Thelma by her crop top and slammed her face into a wall causing Thelma to scream in pain. Archer couldn't stop the smile that split his face. Lindsay dragged the woman back to the campus and was about to deliver a timely punch when her phone rang.

"Don't you even think about running because if you do, no one here will blame me if I shoot you to death." Lindsay warned and then answered her phone.

"Mommy?" Lucy's voice whispered on the other end. "I t-think there is someone in the house."

"Lucy, where are you?" Lindsay asked. The urgency in her voice attracted Archer's attention.

"I-I am hiding in the closet i-in m-my room."

"Good. Stay there. I am coming." Lindsay replied.

Thelma, who had been crying silently, chose that exact moment to whirl and punch Lindsay in the face. Archer ran to Lindsay's aid and belatedly realized that he had made a mistake when he saw Thelma's retreating figure. He tried to chase after her but she was too far gone. Damn it.

★★★

Lindsay's house was exactly what you expected of a struggling middle income household. It was a simple craftsman bungalow with an attached garage. The white paint on the exterior of the house was sun bleached and peeling in some areas. It wasn't the worst house on the block though. The small lawn was well taken care of and there were petunias growing out of pots on the verandah. The mailbox at the entrance of the driveway was flamboyantly designed with glitter; so much glitter that it reflected light into Archer's eyes. This was probably Lucy's handiwork from when she was younger.

Archer and Lindsay both drew their guns and circled the exterior of the property. At the back of the house the white picket fence was decorated with climbing plants and more glitter. A few pine trees speckled the almost non existent backyard. There was no threat outside. That only left the interior. Archer signalled for Lindsay to enter the house. He was going to remain outside incase the intruder tried to escape. They had already lost one person of interest. Hell would freeze over before Archer let another one escape.

Lindsay took a few deep breaths. Her false bravado had dissipated and only raw fear remained. A killer could be in her house doing bad things to her daughter. She shouldn't have left her alone in the first place. She opened the front door and proceeded into her ghostly house. She knocked a heap of magazines from the worn sofa over and jumped when they made contact with her feet. Lindsay now wished that her house wasn't so cramped because she kept bumping into things.  Lindsay heard a scuffing sound coming from the hall and her bubbling anger gave her courage. Lindsay passed her open-concept kitchen and living room and proceeded into the narrow hallway that led to the rooms.

Lindsay willed herself not to breathe. She took off her shoes and walked bare footed with her back to the wall so that incase the intruder was behind her, she was not an easy target. She opened the first room. Lucy's room. Nobody. Well, there was Lucy in the closet but Lindsay didn't want her  daughter getting exposed to sudden bursts of gunfire. The intruder was still in the house. So she left her there.

Next, was the room she had shared with her husband. She opened it, her gun pointing upwards and entered. Still no one. That only left Harleigh's room. Lindsay seethed with rage. The intruder was contaminating Harleigh's memory with his/ her presence.

Lindsay yanked open the door of Harleigh's room. The door creaked and the masked man, who had been checking through Harleigh's belongings, turned. She was aware that he held a knife. It was one of hers, from the kitchen. She raised her gun and the man's eyes widened. He raised his arms in surrender.

"Please, I don't want to hurt anyone." The man said.

"You have already hurt me, my daughter and my daughter's memory by coming to my house unannounced. Why shouldn't I shoot you, right now?" Lindsay replied. She could hear the blood rushing through her ears. Lindsay willed her legs and arms not to shake as she moved her finger from the trigger guard to the trigger.

"Lucy?" The masked man said. He was looking over her shoulder and Lindsay turned. There was no one in the doorway. She didn't have time to regret her mistake as the man speared her to the floor, jumped on Harleigh's bed and made his escape through the window.

The masked man didn't make it far before Detective Archer Finn tackled him. He dug his elbow into the masked man's neck and used his other hand to peel off the mask.

The masked man turned out to be just a masked boy. Archer guessed that he was around seventeen. The boy's dark hair was wiry and stringy. His gaunt face held a few hairs in place of a moustache and he had a scar on his lower lip. Archer could feel a few of the boy's bones jutting out of his all black attire. Maybe he was a thief looking for food because he surely looked malnourished.

"I'm not a criminal or thug or whatever you think I am. You have to believe me." The boy said. He couldn't stop trembling and lost control of his bladder. Archer stood up immediately and waved his hands infront of his nose to stem the pungent smell of urine. A few moments later, Lindsay and Lucy joined him with crinkled noses.

"Who are you and what were you doing in my house?" Lindsay asked.

The boy stood up and dusted his pants. He was probably trying to retain the shreds of dignity he still had. "My name is Danny and I was looking for money."

"Well that definitely makes you a criminal in my book." Archer replied.

"No, you don't understand. The money is mine. She borrowed it from me two days before she went missing. She said she would pay it back but she didn't."

"Hold up. So, when you found out that my daughter was dead, the first thing you did was come to her house looking for your money?" Lindsay asked.

"I'm a homeless kid. For me, money is money. Money lenders can't afford to have feelings or be taken up by mundane things such as emotions. We give money and we also collect it. " Danny replied with a shrug.

"Why did she take money from you of all people?" Lucy asked. She was a smart cookie. Lindsay was proud.

"I'm among the few money lenders that don't ask for collateral. I just give you the money but when the time comes to pay, I collect. I don't care whether you have my money or not. You pay with whatever you have." Danny replied.

"Pretty dumb idea if you ask me." Lucy said and Archer smiled. Lindsay was frowning.

"Did my daughter tell you what she needed the money for?" Lindsay asked.

"Well, not exactly but I found out, through my own means, that she was going on a trip. New York City, I think. She wanted to try her luck in the city that never sleeps. Something like that."

"But Carlos never told us of any trips." Lindsay was frowning again.

Danny laughed, "Carlos is just like me. Only difference is that he wears fancy suits and eats with a fork and knife. I bet Carlos didn't tell you that Harleigh wanted to leave the community center. She wanted something big. That's why she was traveling. Carlos wouldn't tell you about that because then he would have to tell you how he hit Harleigh the day she announced that she was going to resign. Can I go now?"

Archer, Lindsay and Lucy were shocked.  Was it as simple as that? The manager had killed Harleigh because she wanted out. Carlos was pissed that his money magnet was going to leave him and then he killed her? But that didn't add up. Harleigh's torture was slow, meticulous and methodical. It wasn't an act of rage. It was all about power and control. Those were actions of a psychopath.

Finding out the truth would be the police's job. Atleast they finally had a solid lead to follow. He called his confidant and former partner. She answered on the first ring.

"Rukelle? I have an important lead for you to chase."

★
Do you think the manager is the killer?

Feel free to vote if you like it.