04.03.18

It’s me, Klaudia writing this. It was extremely weird letting Erin write here last time but I know she thinks a lot and I figured it would be good for her to have an outlet too. I read what she wrote. I agree with most of what she wrote but I don’t understand why she is so suspicious of Drew. I get it, the incident that happened some years back doesn’t paint her in a very good light but that doesn’t have to do anything with the murders. I think Erin needs to look at Akeno a bit closely. He is on the list of people who were in contact with the ferryman and no one really is sure of what he gets up to during the day anyways. That being said, I must admit, Erin did give a pretty thorough rundown of everything that happened. This brings me to why I am writing here today, so soon. A lot, and I mean a lot has happened in the past couple of days.

Let's start with the second of March. I hadn’t slept the last night. Theories and possibilities kept popping up in my brain and keeping me awake. I spent the night tossing and turning in bed. Finally, I gave up and just made myself a cup of tea. I sat outside in the gazebo watching as the sun rose on the horizon. This isn’t the type of thing I usually enjoy doing but I liked the peace. I headed back in at around seven in the morning and I passed a fully dressed June who seemed to be heading out already. I asked her what she was up to since MommyJune’s didn’t open till 10 am. June explained that she was going early to prepare her special chocolate walnut eclairs, which apparently take a good couple of hours to make. She said that she wanted them ready by the time the store opened since she hadn’t put them up for sale in quite some time. I wouldn’t know. Erin and I discussed our course of action during the day. Sleep and weakness with a touch of a cold hit me around the afternoon and I finally collapsed in bed. I pretty much spent the entire day asleep until Erin woke me up to give me my evening medicines and asked me to join her and June for dinner.

The third of March, that is, yesterday, was a very interesting day indeed. Erin and I went over our plan in the afternoon. We were going to investigate the photographer’s murder yesterday. According to Antonio’s notes, there hadn’t been any actual physical evidence at his crime scene as well. Erin and I decided that this wasn’t going to be enough though. Any evidence in the Kabot grounds must have been washed away by the rain by now. So, we were going to have to take a look at his house. There had to be something there that told us a bit more about the photographer, if not his murder. We were about to head to the photographer’s house when Akeno came bearing news. Harry Mathews had returned to the island. This had spread a wildfire of hope and expectation in the town and a group of townsfolk had demanded that there be a meeting immediately at Ant’s Nest to discuss further action to be taken and the updates that Harry had brought. Erin and I were intrigued too, so put our plans for investigation aside for a while and decided to follow Akeno to Ant’s Nest.

When we reached there, we saw that the restaurant was absolutely packed with almost everyone in town, whispering and chattering amongst themselves, waiting eagerly for Harry Mathews to show his face and provide some answers. Harry arrived fifteen minutes late, strolling leisurely into the establishment with his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets. He was wearing a very expensive-looking white button-down shirt. This was the best I had ever seen him present himself. Silence fell across the room as soon as he came inside. Everyone looked at him expectantly. “What happened on the mainland, Harry? Could you get any help? Are any authorities going to get involved?” Erin asked finally and Harry rubbed his neck.

“They..they can’t come, Erin,” he said grimly, looking down. There was a moment of stunned silence before the room erupted in chaos with people talking over each other and discussing with electric rage this unexpected outcome. I was utterly shocked too. Erin shushed everyone. With her mouth stuck in a slight frown, she started, “Why? Did you not tell them that three people are dead and it is most likely a serial killing? That there is absolutely no one left to do anything about this now that Antonio is gone?” Harry looked annoyed at that, which made me scowl at him. “I did. I told them everything, believe me. They said that three people are too few to determine anything, and besides, it's too difficult to reach here. They didn't want to waste resources until they knew it wasn’t nothing,” he said nonchalantly. Everyone around me was shocked. I could see people tearing up and others getting angrier by the minute. I was one of the latter. The indifference with which he was talking made me want to punch his smug little face.

“That…that can’t be true,” Mr Andrews, the owner of the local orchard said feverishly. Harry frowned at that. “I don’t know what else to say, man, there is no one coming for us, we are on our own.” Mr Andrews’s face kept getting redder. “You’re lying!” he spluttered and there was a wave of audible agreement that passed through the crowd. Harry was getting visibly frustrated too now.

“Yeah, Harry. Forget that, if you weren’t able to get any help, that means you must have only spent money on travel and lodging. We gave you a lot more than just that much. Where’s our money, Harry?” a middle-aged lady standing near me asked loudly and her sentiments were echoed loudly by a few others in the crowd as well. Harry definitely looked affected now. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he barked, “Money? I had to use it all, of course, you know how expensive the mainland is. Besides, how dare you people accuse me, I did all of this for you.” The crowd raged at that. There was something definitely wrong.

“Yeah sure, we can see that Mazeratti logo on your shirt, where did you get the money to buy that, Harry? Oh, was that for us too?” Drew sniped and the crowd roared in agreement. Harry was getting red in the face.

“All of you, you undeserving, pathetic people, you can’t see anything beyond your stupid little lives, can you? You never understood my worth and you are going to regret it! I am going to reach heights that none of you small-minded morons have ever even dreamt of, and no one can stop me. There have been people in my way and no one has made it till the end, I have. You just wait and watch the things that are going to happen,” Harry almost shouted with an eerie sense of craziness in his eyes. Everyone remained silent, trying to process what he had just said as he stood there looking unnecessarily triumphant while he caught his breath. After a moment, Erin said quietly, “You know, Harry, it’s never wise to make an enemy out of an entire town.” She then walked calmly out of Ant’s Nest. Everyone stayed quiet for some time. I saw Harry’s confidence falter a little but it was back in no time. The townsfolk finally left the establishment too and I followed them.

Erin and I visited the photographer’s house on our way home. It too, like the ferryman’s house, was boarded up. This was slightly disheartening but then Erin said that we would break into it at night and conduct our investigation. This was slightly shocking but no part of me refused. A wave of excitement surged through my veins. I couldn’t wait for it to be night.

Erin and I rendezvoused at the looming portico of the Manor. We were dressed in all black, ready to conduct our slightly (very) illegal activities. Erin parked her truck a block away from the photographer’s house. There was no moon in the sky tonight so the town was entirely engulfed in obscurity. Using no flashlights, Erin and I crept through the shadows to finally reach the photographer’s house. Erin amazed me yet again by being able to soundlessly break the lock on the photographer’s door and let us inside. We finally turned our torches on. The house wasn’t too big. It was quite messy, and it looked like the decoration of the house had been left midway. It was strange to be there. Everything was covered with dust but it was a house that had been lived in, it seemed like someone had just abruptly disappeared from their own life. There were newspapers and magazines scattered on the coffee table, a towel strewn lazily on the sofa, two dead potted plants and other such objects that screamed domesticity. It was a bit weird to imagine there was a living breathing human here just some time back, going on with life, believing he was going to have plenty of time.

Erin and I were really thorough with looking everywhere. After basically turning the ground floor over and finding nothing (we weren’t sure exactly what we were looking for but we were certain we would know when we would find it), we went to his bedroom. We were rummaging through his bedroom when I opened a small drawer in the photographer’s bedside table and there I found it.

It was an envelope addressed to ‘The Company’ on the mainland, evidently ready to be posted. I called Erin over. I don’t know why but I had a feeling that this was going to be really important. With bated breath, I tore the envelope open and out fell three photographs. Of Drew Smith.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. What were these doing here? There was a slight smugness of Erin’s face though she was shocked too. After going over the rest of the room, we quickly headed out and headed home.

Once we were home, Erin and I sat at the dinner table and opened the envelope again. It didn’t make sense to me. What was ‘The Company’? Why was the photographer sending them pictures of Drew out of everyone? Erin took no time in pointing out that this looked terrible for Drew. I begrudgingly had to agree. Drew is sweet, yes, but that maybe doesn’t discount the fact that strange things are said about her around town and there is an eerie morbidity that she seems to be constantly fascinated by. Maybe I was wrong in defending her so blindly. I sighed. I didn’t like this.

Just then I remembered a couple of things. The photos of Drew looked scarily similar to the photos of June that I had found at Mocair’s, with the angles they were clicked in and the image quality and reproduction of colour by the camera. Could there be a chance that June’s photos had also been clicked by the photographer? Maybe Mocair, being the creep he is, stole them and…and in that process murdered the photographer? I voiced this to Erin who raised her eyebrows in interest. She agreed that this was definitely a chain of possibilities that could not be ignored. Furthermore, there were Mocair’s muddy boots that I found the same day I found the photographs. Erin said that it was highly unlikely for Mocair to leave his establishment for any reason, much less if it was raining. So the muddy boots definitely meant that Mocair had been out and about at some point around that time. When the body of the photographer was found, it was clear that it had been rotting for a few days. It all fell into place. I felt a chill run down my spine as I relayed this to Erin who also grew serious and quiet.

It’s the next morning when I’m writing all of this down. I have been buzzing in my skin ever since we had that discussion about Mocair last night. We might just have cracked this, we might just have the killer. Erin and I have decided to go talk to Mocair this evening. I have this uneasy feeling in my gut that something is about to go horribly, horribly wrong…

by Klaudia Kabot on March 04, 2018