⌦ ˚₊· ⊹ ａｂｏｕｔ:
“Rebecca,” she said, “there’s been murder.”
Mary-Jane is just a normal five-year-old. She's generally like by the people of Davenport. But then who'd want to push her down a well?
Rebecca Smith is a notoriously clever, undercover detective. But she only has two days to crack the case. Will she able to find the murderer in time?
Five suspects. One murder. One detective.

☕︎︎ - - ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　１
It was a Saturday when I heard the news. I was on a tight schedule so I knew I didn’t have a lot of time to solve the case.
I was to be in London by Monday, checking in on Headquarters. We had recently been tipped off about a murder taking place in the West End. Someone had telephoned in, saying “Theatre. West London. Murder. Happening Sunday. Fierce killer.” The line had been crackly, though the receptionist had said the voice had been deep, but with a somewhat strange accent. It sounded to me like a woman was trying to impersonate a man to hide her identity, or it had been a foreign man. We couldn’t track down where the call was made, though we guessed it had been from a telephone box. There had not been any foul play reported yet, though my assistant said I’d receive a telegraph or call if they’d found anything out.
I had been quite starved for excitement recently, something I wasn’t used to, being an undercover detective. I had been reading on the porch when I saw her huffing up the hill towards my house. I flung down my dull gardener’s manual and cried “Hello Mandie! Do come in, would you like a cup of tea?”
I ushered her in through the door and took her hat and coat.
“Oh, Rebecca,” she said, her face pink with exhaustion and eagerness, “I really have the most interesting story to tell you.”
Mrs. Attenborough came to me every weekend, telling me the town news. I lived about a mile from the small village, a fifteen minute walk at least. Mrs. Attenborough said it was worth it though; she said she liked the fresh air. I think she mainly liked having someone to chat with: someone who was also interested in gossip.
She pulled out a chair for herself by the breakfast table and watched as I boiled the water. She started muttering to herself.
“Really, quite unexpected.”
I poured the water into cups.
“Y’d never think she was that hated.”
I poured in the milk.
“Good thing Polly told me as soon as Mr Davies told her. Who’d’ve told you then?”
I smiled at her weakly. “Well, what’s the news?”
With a large smile across her mouth, her face positively glowing with mischievous exhilaration, she told me.
“Rebecca,” she said, “there’s been murder.”

☕︎︎ - - ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　２
“What?!” I cried. “Who? Where- when? Why?”
“Remember Robert and Delia Bennet’s little girl, Mary-Jane? She was pushed down the convent garden well. Poor thing, I don’t know who’d want to kill her?” Mandie explained in what I suppose was a grave
“How do they know it was murder?” I asked, shocked.
“Oh, she was too little to just climb over the wall by herself. Someone obviously picked her up and threw her in.”
I was dumbfounded.
“But- do they know… why? Why would someone do that? She was a nice enough child was she not?”
“Oh, the police are looking into it now. Passed their station and had a peep in. Mr. Davies told me some things. Of course, when Polly-”
“Who?”
“Mrs. Malone. You know… the plump one… big eyes?”
“Oh, yes. Married to the fishmonger? Carry on.”
“Well, Polly told me. You see, she’d heard it from the kitchen staff in Rushford, you know, the Bennet’s estate. She was just delivering the fish and they told her. Most dreadful really. Yes, just on my way up here, Mr. Davies said that they had only a few suspects. Never really been in the convent garden, I’m more of a woman for real, country walks.”
I snorted into my tea at that, because, although Mandie was a dear friend of mine, she really wasn’t much of a walker. Even the walk to my house made her breath very heavily.
“But yes, they have I think … five suspects? Arthur Smith, you know the much younger brother of that girl, Sarah was it? Went to America I think. Mother of them gone mad I think. Never leaves the house, must miss her daughter greatly. Then there’s Frederick Darcy… that young, rich one. I think there’s also the maid … meant to be looking after the child- honestly.” She shook her head sadly. “There’s also Patricia, her sister. To be honest, I’m surprised they even count her as a suspect, she’s only eleven! I think there’s also John Delaney.”
“Mmm…”
“They’ll probably want you down there, to, you know, investigate and all that.”
Mandie was one of the few people in the village who knew I was a detective.
“Goodness, look at the time! I better be off now Rebecca, though you drop in to me any time.” She smiled warmly and got up from the table.
I was glad that she understood that I needed to go down to the police station and begin investigating.
“You know Mandie, I’ll just go down to the village with you now.”
I got up from the table too deciding that I’d clean everything up when I got back. I went into the hall and joined Mrs. Attenborough as she got down her coat.
“Off we go!”

s9226403 wrote:

oooohhhhh i like this. mostly bc i don't see murder mysteries on Scratch a lot lol

oreowaffIes wrote:

AAAAAA LOLA THIS IS AWESOME I LOVE IT SO MUCHHH <3333