Miles and Ethan stood on the front porch of James Anderson's house, the cool air settling around them. Miles took a deep breath, 'I've been dreaming to investigate a crime, I didn't know it was gonna be that hard, i still don't know how I ended up like this,' he wondered in his thought, dipping his hands into his coat pockets.
Ethan raised a hand and knocked firmly on the polished wood of the front door. James who just settled in his house heard the knock and got frustrated, "I just entered and the next second a fellow is banging at the front of my door." A moment later, they heard footsteps from inside, followed by a low grumble. The door swung open with an annoyed sigh, and there stood James Anderson, his tailored suit slightly rumpled as if he had just settled in after a long day. He looked at the two men on his front porch, a look of tired impatience on his face.
"Can I help you fellas?" James asked, his voice laced with annoyance.
"Mr. Anderson," Ethan began, his tone sharp and formal, a perfect match for the era's proper speech. "My name is Ethan Morales, and this is my partner, Miles Corbane. We're with the Aethelred Initiative for Singular Cases. We're here to ask you a few questions regarding the death of Katherine Vance."
James's face hardened, his casual demeanor dropping instantly. "I'll be frank with you, gentlemen. I don't know who this 'Katherine Vance' is. And if you're going to keep pestering me, I'd like to call my lawyer."
"Now hold on a minute, Mr. Anderson," Miles said, stepping forward. His voice was surprisingly calm, and his words were smooth and confident. "There's no need for a lawyer. It's just a few questions, and they're nothing you can't handle. You won't feel uncomfortable with us, so..."
James hesitated, his eyes narrowing at Miles's unexpectedly confident tone. He saw the grim seriousness in Ethan's eyes and the easy-going charm in Miles's. With a sigh of resignation, he stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. "Fine. But make it quick. I've had a long day."
They stepped into the sitting room, a space of grand furniture and heavy curtains. James took a seat in a large armchair, watching them with a wary gaze. Miles and Ethan sat opposite him on a plush velvet sofa. Miles, however, couldn't sit still. He rose and began to hover around the room, his eyes, powered by his Observation skill, scanning every detail. He noticed a faint layer of dust on the bookshelves, a scuff mark on the rug near the fireplace, and a peculiar empty spot on a side table, as if a small item had been recently removed.
Ethan, cutting straight to the point, leaned forward. "Mr. Anderson, we have information that you were acquainted with Katherine Vance. Who were you to her?"
James scoffed, feigning ignorance. "I don't know who you're talking about. I didn't read the newspapers, so I don't know the dead one you're talking about. And how the hell do.....would you know I was with her?"
Miles, who had been busy scanning the room, saw a small, silver-framed photo, tucked away under a stack of magazines on the side table. He picked it up, his fingers brushing against the cool metal, and walked over to the armchair. He leaned forward and gently placed the photo on the table in front of James, sliding it toward him.
"Then if you said you don't know her how about you explain, Mr. Anderson, what is Katherine Vance photo doing in here," Miles said, his voice quiet but firm.
James's composure crumbled. He stared at the photograph, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and frustration. He stuttered, "It's a... a coincidence. Maybe..."
"Don't say you don't know, you can't deny that far, give on the denial and explain this photo Mr Anderson!" Ethan said in hoarse and James abruptly stood up in anger.
"You said I wouldn't be uncomfortable with this, I'm not a murderer and it was a suicide case why are you suspecting me? And don't you dare yell at me in my own house Mr! Now I think you should leave!"
"I'm sorry for my partner discourteous behavior, a minute please," he gripped Ethan shoulder firmly and ethan stood up and they gave James some distance, who took the picture and started tracing the pictures with his hands, "we have the privilege to be here after pleading with him, why the hell do you want to ruin it." Miles whispered to Ethan his arm still around his neck.
"He acts so immature!" Ethan complained and miles rolled his eyes exhausted by Ethan stoic behavior, "we are here to investigate, be tolerant, I'll do the talking form here," miles warned and thought, 'I didn't know I had so much skills when it comes to being a detective.'
They went back to the sitting room and Miles asked, "so....?"He trailed off. James sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. Fine. I've had enough. She was my girlfriend." He leaned back in his chair, a flicker of a long-ago memory passing through his eyes. "We met at a birthday party for her best friend's boyfriend. It was two years ago."
1955
A girl with bright, blonde hair stood before a large vanity mirror. She hummed a cheerful tune as she adjusted the lace collar of her sky-blue dress, its full skirt a perfect swirl of fabric around her waist. The dress was the latest fashion—a classic 1950s silhouette, with a fitted bodice that nipped in at her waist and a voluminous skirt that fell to just below her knees.
It was a proper, feminine style that made her feel elegant and sophisticated. She brushed her long blonde, her green eyes staring at her self through her perfect fitted glasses, she tied her hair in a bun, decorating it with a blue ribbon. "I hope I'm not late to the party?" She gave herself a final, satisfied nod, a picture of youthful innocence and excitement, and grabbed a small clutch purse before hurrying out the door.
The afternoon sun warmed her skin as she walked a few houses down, stopping in front of a neat, two-story home. She smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling, thinking of her best friend Ava and the fun night they were about to have at her boyfriend Adrian's birthday party. She beamed brightly, inhaling the fresh air that passed through the environment, clutching her purse as she strides with her white heels to the front door.