Masterpiece Murders #2

Hey anyone who reads my work, sorry it's been so long, I've been a bit stuck. On the bright side, I'm back baby!

I stared hard at the painting, as if the soft faced woman in the painting would turn and tell me the identity of the killer. Unfortunately, I had no such luck. “My name is Deborah by the way, Deborah Blaire, My sister’s name is… was, Rose.” I quickly got out a pad of paper and a fountain pen from my desk. I scrawled “Rose Blaire” at the top of the page. “And how did Rose die?” I asked, brow furrowing at the portrait. “The police say she poisoned herself, they said strychnine poisoning.” If it was strychnine then this was no accident one way or another. We discussed my rates and quickly came to an agreement. I asked her if I could hold the painting with me, just for the duration of the case. “Please, keep it; I don’t think I could bear to see her in this light every day in this thing.” Her voice was small, almost distant. “If you could excuse me, Mr. York, I have to attend a memorial service.” Her words had a strange bite to them; I attributed it to grief, not a common thing, losing someone as close as a sister, so striking out at everyone isn't uncommon. She got up with a small sigh; I could almost hear the sound of her determination returning to her in a small amount, knowing that someone was looking into it. “Thank you” she said, her voice the size of a pea but I could tell she meant it. I stared at the painting; I noticed a few things, the woman in the painting lived on the third floor of a house on 27^th and River Street. In the window, across the street was the top of a sign for Robinson’s general, I've walked past that place a million times, never thought it'd help me figure out where someone was murdered. I continued to look at the painting, trying to discover its secrets something that seemed… “Off” I said aloud, noticing something I couldn't believe the police missed. She was wearing makeup. That was peculiar but not as odd as the cigarette sitting in the ashtray, it was lit, and half finished, yet there was no lipstick stain. So it was probably the artist’s. I also don’t know why she would make herself up before killing herself, she was also wearing a beautiful dress, but other than that I didn't notice anything that was notable. It was about time to pay a visit to the home of Ms. Blaire.

© 2013 Nathanial Tirado

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N. Tripper

I like your prose but would like to suggest that you not write in long continuous paragraphs. It makes it a little easier to read when quotes stand alone and separate the story a bit. But I do like the way you write and I realize the difficulty of posting writing to these pages - this site messes it up and you get unwanted colorful underlined words.