"Sergeant, what do you suppose happened here?"
"G-g-g-god only knows, sir. The house was locked with a deadbolt. We had to b-b-b-break a bay window downstairs to get in."
"Sergeant, will you try to get yourself under control and stop shaking!"
"Y-y-y-yes s-s-s-sir."
The detective stared at the bed, rumpled with sheets and blankets tossed about, the impression of two heads still imposed on the pillows. There was no blood, no signs of any violence at all. But the occupants of the room, of the home, were missing.
He stared at the window above the bed, locked shut . . as were the windows along the wall. The house seemed to be an impenetrable fortress but Mr. and Mrs. ___________ were nowhere to be found. His men had searched from this room on the upper floor throughout the house, down to the basement. He, himself, had explored the walls, knocking to see if a hidden compartment existed. But there was nothing. No sign of the couple at all.
They were known throughout the village but no one knew them well. They had kept to themselves, made no friends. No one knew the source of their income or where they had come from before moving to the house barely seven months before. They had come in the night, at first creating gossip that they might be vampires. But when they were seen outside in the daylight, that rumor died.
Now they had disappeared.
The alarm had been sounded by a gardener at a nearby home, who had seen no sign of their existence for several days and notified the police. And now, having entered the home by force when no response came to the bell or to repeated knocks on the doors, the detective stood alone in the room, staring at the bed.
The only clue came from a night watchman at a nearby factory, who claimed he had seen a bright light in the sky, hovering over the house, a few nights previous. But he was the only one who had noticed anything at all out of the ordinary.
Now it was up to the detective to solve the mystery of the disappearance and, quite frankly, he didn’t have the vaguest idea about it.
Do you?
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Mysterious Willow has posted the photo prompt and invited others to write from their memories or their imaginations about it. My tale is totally imaginary. You can read others by clicking on
Magpie Tales.
As is frequently our wont, we traveled to Jerome yesterday to view a few shops. Tom, in particular, loves the store that sells multitudes of kaleidoscopes.
In the upper left of the photo above you can see the Jerome Grand Hotel where we had lunch in the Asylum restaurant with its amazing views of the Verde Valley.
All in all, a great day with much talk of old memories, dear and some now gone friends and past adventures. Though I have changed some of my less healthy habits, Lana says I am "still crazy after all these years."
