Avery Trudge and Murder: Episode Three

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The papers documented two missing persons; Yu Furukawa, a Japanese businessman who had gone missing three days prior; and Horace Princeman, an unemployed American. They were undoubtedly the two bodies in Felicia’s apartment; neither report had much information, but Avery now had the names and thus a lead. He left the police station immediately, taking care not to be seen by the tall detective. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that the papers were left on Krill’s desk; of all the detectives in the local police, Avery knew Krill to be the most incompetent. Whoever was trying to ruin Felicia had friends in the police. Or just some skilled burglars–either way, this person was powerful.

Avery’s first step was to speak with his contact, Mr. Ian Kilpatrick. Avery had qualms about seeing the bumbling, often useless man, but Mr. Ian Kilpatrick did have connections, and often knew things only rocks had the right to–and if there was any link between the two murdered men, Avery had to find out.

“Hello, Janie,” Avery said as he entered Mr. Ian Kilpatrick’s office; why he needed a secretary Avery didn’t know.

“Mr. Trudge!” Janie the secretary replied, her tightly curled red hair bouncing animatedly. “Mr. Kilpatrick has not seen you in some time!”

“No he hasn’t,” Avery said curtly. “May I go in?”

Janie looked perplexed as she peered up at Avery from her desk–then again, she had a tendency to look befuddled even when she had perfect knowledge of the situation at hand. “Yes, of course,” she said, picking up the phone on her desk then mumbling something unintelligible into it.

“I don’t think you–” Avery began, noticing she hadn’t dialed or pressed any of the numerous buttons on the phone’s base.

“He’ll see you now!” Janie said, giggling in a eerily maniacal fashion.

“Right.” Avery didn’t care to speak any longer with Janie, so he strode right past her as she stared intently at the door Avery had entered from.

Mr. Ian Kilpatrick was turned away from the room when Avery entered–Avery stared at the back of the tall chair in the back of the room for a moment before it slowly swiveled around, revealing an empty grey suit. Another one of Mr. Ian Kilpatrick’s tricks; Avery did nothing, itching for Mr. Ian Kilpatrick to reveal himself.

“Avery,” came a voice to Avery’s left; he turned in the voice’s direction to find himself face-to-face with a mirror. As Avery sighed, the mirror swiveled around to allow two passages on either side of it, both shrouded in darkness. Mr. Ian Kilpatrick soon stepped out of the left passage, wearing a suit identical to the one on the chair.

“Brilliant entrance,” Avery said, his voice dripping with sarcasm he knew Mr. Ian Kilpatrick would ignore.

“Yes, I do think so–are you here for any business in particular, or are you going to apologize?” Mr. Ian Kilpatrick strolled to his desk, carefully picking the suit from off the chair and sitting down.

Not knowing what he could possibly have done to warrant an apology, Avery brushed past the small talk:

“I need information on two men; Yu Furukawa and Horace Princeman.”

“You don’t say. I will need time, of course.” Mr. Ian Kilpatrick leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk. “What are you looking for?”

Avery thought a moment before speaking. “Any connection between them, between them and Felicia Spatt, or between them and anything that might get them killed.”

“That’s a quite extensive list of things to look for,” Mr. Ian Kilpatrick said gravely. “Sounds fun!”

“I expected nothing less of you.” Avery had expected quite less, of course, but flattery never hurt.

“Yes, well, that tends to happen. You may leave.”

And so Avery left, ignoring Janie’s attempts at a conversation as he passed by her desk. His destination was now his apartment; all the traveling of the day had taken time, and it was now early afternoon. He didn’t have specific plans, but he found that important things tended to happen just as he began to relax, which was occasionally useful.

Avery’s apartment was shrouded in darkness when he arrived, the drapes shut tight and the lights all off. He flicked on the nearest light as he entered, putting his coat on its rack and moving into his living room, where he turned on the light as well before sitting down on his couch.

And, sure enough, just as his mind drifted from the case and he begun to relax…

“Mr. Trudge. You haven’t been expecting me, I assume?”

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