9:58 pm.
Same date.
Same place.
Laurist Schuster.
THE THOUGHT OF BEING FOOLED BY A PIECE OF CLOTH STILL DO NOT SINK into MY MIND. TO ADD INSULT TO INJURY. . . I BECOME A SUSPECT IN A MURDER CASE ORCHESTRATED OUT OF NOWHERE AND IS CURRENTLY BEING SOLVED BY THREE DETECTIVE WANNABES.
Yes. Wannabes. Feelingero. Ambisyoso. Assumero. Makapal ang mukha. Jollibee.
And yes again! Murderers. Killers. Mamamatay tao. Halang ang kaluluwa. Demonyo.
You got it right for the third time! Yes! I was fooled. Inuto. Nagpa-uto. Nauto. Tanga. Naloko. By a shit of a cloth.
Mga punyeta kayo oh.
I let out an exasperated sigh. A few hours ago, I was bored to death.
Yes. Bored. Walang magawa. Walang maka-usap. Walang magawa. Walang maka-usap. State of being disinterested, indifferent, spiritless and wanting salvation. Bored.
I was bored to death but then someone who was more bored than me, sent a series of spam messages through my personal gadgets saying that I should go at this certain coffeehouse. Since I was bored and he mentioned coffeehouse, I decided to have a coffeehouse hopping. I started from the First Avenue and now, I stopped in front of an inconspicuous café called Gustazó Café. This is where he wants me to go.
Yes. Inconspicuous. Hidden. Secluded. Tago. Hindi sikat. Hindi trendy. Marumi. Nasa squatter area. Hindi pangmayaman. Hindi isa sa mga tambayan ko. Gustazó Café.
Walking towards its direction, a little pauper tugged the hem of my suit.
Yes. Little pauper. Beggar. Mahirap. Gusgusin. Pulubi. Madumi. Mabaho. Nakakadiri. Manlilimos.
I do not have mysophobia but I am still an enthusiast of cleanliness that is why I hurriedly searched for my wallet and handed a bill.
Instead of a heartfelt thank you, he threw me a piece of cloth. Walang utang na loob. Mannerless. Walang galang. Punyeta.
The cloth was clean unlike his being—I mean—his state. It was just the size of a one-fourth pad. Same size as my notebook. Definitely not a cotton one nor a satin. Those are the only type of cloth I knew. The writings inside were quite disorganized. It was written with a blood-like ink in penmanship of a child who just started learning how to write.
Yes. Napakapangit ng sulat niya.
The note says: Enter the coffeeshop and never leave no matter what happens.
And so I did.
I entered. An old man—the one that will going to be murdered—bumped into me. I didn't mind it and just sat in the corner—3 tables away from those detective wannabes.
I just sat doing nothing.
Yes. Nothing. Wala. Wala talaga. Bukod siyempre sa paghinga. Nothing.
The old man was accompanied by his family. A middle-aged woman and 2 sons—one looks neat and the other has this spiky hairstyle—in their late twenties. The thing is. . . none of them looks like the old man.
Yes. I said I did not do anything. Yes. I lied.
The quiet son was the one who ordered while the others settled in. The staffs did not take too long to serve the food. In the midst of their chattering, a loud thump was heard. . .
Then back to the present. . .
Sitting in one of the chairs that were arranged—horizontally facing the corpse—by those dimwits, I heaved a sigh of exasperation.
There were six chairs aligned. I was occupying the left-most. For the next chairs—they don't have to be mentioned. They aren't part of the story, anyway.
That was what I want to say but on the other hand, let's just complete the details.
Next to me is the emoticon cashier—I mean—the cashier who likes to smile. Then on the third chair from the left was another shady guy—I mean—the guy who wears an all-black attire. His black hair was ponytailed upward and probably an inch or two longer than Emoticon's. The next three chairs were occupied by the three companions of the victim.
In front of the corpse, there was a crossdresser and a fancy looking guy—his red hair stood out the most. The crossdresser dimwit was playing his curly blonde hair—not as blonde as Emoticon's, probably was bleached—while the other guy was busy examining the body—if he was real.
Those detective wannabes but already passed as dimwits made us sit in front of the corpse. Thus, the beginning of the never-ending interrogation.
Never-ending. Paulit-ulit. Makulit. Wala na ngang mapapala, ipapaulit pa. Nagtatanong pero ayaw maniwala kaya ipipilit. Never-ending interrogation.
That is why it is hard to be a witness or suspect for a crime. Better leave the crime scene if that happens to you. The next time, I'll definitely will.
"Your name?" I snapped back to reality when I heard someone speak to me.
Hindi ko man lang napansin na ako na ang tatanungin.
I stared at the chesnut haired guy. He has a mole under each eye in which probably would be the first thing you'll see if you look at his face aside from the cross-shaped earring on his left ear. He then transformed his disinterested expression into an innocent grin which caught me off guard.
Yes. It did. Ang pangit niya kasi. Kamukha niya iyong nakita kong lalaki sa opisina ni papa noong seven ako.
"Kimi no Nawa," he spoke again.
I gave him a scornful look. "Dimwit. It does not even pass as a pun."
Yes. Pun. Joke. Funny. Definitely not lame. That's pun.
He laughed as he looked at me while the message; are you an alien, is clearly plastered on his eyes.
"What's your name?" he repeated.
"Laurist Schuster. 20 years old. I run a company. I was here around 9:20 up 'til the moment he died. I don't have any motive to kill him. I don't know him. I don't need his money. Most importantly, I am still sane. So. . . where's the police?" I bombarded him with answers to the questions most detectives ask. And of course, I did not forget to ask the most crucial piece of information.
Where are those policemen? Cause if they are going to hand this case to these three dimwits, I reckoned it will be their first and last roleplay as a detective.
"Why are you asking for police when you have one in front of you?"
"It's a common policy at every crime scene. Ambulance and police."
But before he can still argue back, a cheerful voice echoed.
"Tapos na kami!" a woman—I mean—someone who wants to be a woman or dressed as woman announced happily. Since tatlo silang detective wannabes, 'yung dalawa ang nag-check sa bangkay habang 'yung isa ang nagtanong tanong.
"Nasaan na ang mga pulis?" spiky guy-slash-the filial son inquired while he was appeasing her mother.
Yes. Mother. A wife. One who shares the burden of their husband and definitely not a hired crying woman. Mother.
Then am I saying she should die too? Nevermind. Hell is currently full at the moment.
"On their way," the leader answered, uninterested.
"I'll call them again," the cashier guy volunteered.
"No need, Stavroux. Ayaw nila ng kinukulit. Proven and tested," he laughed for a split second and then changed back again to his seemingly detach expression.
"How about the ambulance?"
"The ambulance always arrives a minute after the police. Kaya asahan ninyong mamaya pa 'yun pareho," I butted in.
This is a common fact. Like what that guy said, proven and tested.
"Hahayaan lang ninyong ganyan ang bangkay ni daddy?"
The guy smiled at him. Totally admitting that they will really do it that way.
"May puting tela sa staff room namin. Baka pwede naman nating takpan," Stavroux—said by the dimwit leader—volunteered.
"Protocol number 3. A corpse must not be covered nor moved and must maintain its original position. Everything around the scene of the crime is considered an evidence, therefore, only authorized person such as the police authorities can have contact with the scene," the guy recited the protocol number 3 of Code of Crime.
I see. . . Sounds legit but not enough.
"Ngayon naiintindihan na ninyo kung bakit namin kayo pinaupo diyan?" the crossdresser dimwit twirled his blonde hair. Punyeta.
Anong trip ng mga nito?
"Anong gagawin natin dito? Tutunganga lang?" sigaw ni spiky guy. Mas lalong lumala ang galit niya sa mundo.
"Anak gusto ko nang umuwi. Your dad does not deserve this treatment. He was a retired soldier and yet his corpse was reduced to this state."
"Damn! You piece of shits irritates me to the core!" the other dimwit shouted his grievance. His expression did not even change. Still grumpy. Parang pasan na niya ang problema ng langit at lupa.
Dahil sa lakas ng sigaw nung burgundy haired dimwit at sa sobrang pagka-irita niya, they were left dumbfounded.
"You want the police? I'm a police officer!" Wagner roared flashing a platinum identification card with glittery calligraphy of Corps Against Crime Unit. The most respected unit in Sylembourge.
That definitely made them shut.
One must know that CACU a.k.a Corps receive more respect than the leader of this country.
"Chill, Wagner-tsun. Huwag high blood," the crossdresser dimwit teased the one he called Wagner.
"Bakit ka umiiyak? Hindi ba ito naman ang gusto mo?"
I—we—all turned our gazes to the guy. It was the leader. He was directing it to the woman who was bawling her eyes out because of the old man's death.
"What the fuck you're talking about, Ludwig," asked Wagner, still annoyed. More appropriately, he's always grumpy.
"Anong pinapalabas mo? Si mommy ang pumatay kay daddy?" spiky guy flared up.
"Calm down, Wilson," the other son interfered.
"Paano ako kakalma dito? Pinagbibintangan niya ang nanay ko!"
"I said shut up–"
"Ma–mahal ko si Alex, bakit ko siya papatayin?" she said in her defense, still crying. Her makeup is now a mess.
"That does not guarantee your innocence," the leader muttered nonchalantly.
"Can you just shut the fuck up you traitor!" the grumpy geezer irritatedly pulled the guy by his collar but that did not stop the guy to drop another sentence.
"Anong malay namin? You might be a mistress or he has a mistress and your love turned into hate that murdering him is the only choice you want to acknowledge."
"Where's the police? You're slandering me! I wanna sue you!"
"Sue me?" He laughed maniacally.
Yes. Maniacally. Madly. Insanely. Crazily. Parang baliw. Parang walang nang bukas.
Hearing his laughter, the other dimwit in a dress looked at him with awe. While the other just glared at him like he's saying; I'm going to fucking kill you!
"Police? Oh fuérge!" he exclaimed in traditional Sylem language. Punyeta? Bakit alam niya 'yun? "Are you going to turn yourself in?"
Spiky guy or the one the prim son called Wilson tried to utter something but he was not given a chance. The guy called Ludwig continued.
"Ex NAVY soldier, Alexander Ytrivo, 73 years old, was poisoned to death. There were six people who interacted with him an hour before he died.
"Primary suspects were of course, his family. Wife, Mary and sons named Wilson and Lukas. The secondary are Freigu, who prepared the food which may be the source of poison, Stavroux, who served the food, and this young master named Laurist whom he bumped into earlier," Ludwig summarized.
He summarized the whole information into two paragraphs which usually will consume several pages if we go by the means of dialogue.
"But obviously, the only one who has the chance to put the poison would be you, the wife, since you have every opportunity."
"That's nonsense!" argued by Wilson.
"Everything is nonsense when you can't accept it," said Ludwig with an entertained look.
"Gaano ka kasigurado na nilason siya!"
"Obviously because there's no blood in it, idiot," grumpy geezer remarked which roughly translate to; tanga ka ba?
"What kind of poison?" asked the ever calm Lukas. The other son.
He is totally unlike his brother who's very protective of his mother from the start. Well, I guess it's true that having two sons is like having two suitors; may papaboran at papaboran ka.
Ludwig laughed. "Why are you asking me? Asked the one who poisoned him, his wife." He continued laughing as if he just heard the funniest pun in the entire universe.
"Why would I even kill my own husband!" Unable to take it anymore, the wife totally lost all her patience. She wiped her tears and stared angrily at Ludwig. Spiky guy a.k.a Wilson tried to make her sit again but she stood firm.
Expression of worried was visible on Wilson's face. The other guy named Lukas just sat there watching the overly dramatic opera.
"Ludwig, take it easy," the guy Stavroux reminded him—I don't know if it is for the guy's sake or for the other party.
Ludwig grinned. Slightly bowed his head and shook it. He closed his eyes and the moment he opened it, wickedness flashed all over it.
Why do I feel like something mad is going to start?
∅∅∅∅∅
Same date.
Same place.
Couver.
NOTHINGNESS.
I was born with nothingness at hindi ko alam na hanggang sa pagtanda ko, I still have nothingness.
Wala akong maintindihan.
Ludwig made us investigate the body. Siyempre hindi ko alam 'yun kasi sa pagnanakaw lang naman ako magaling. Sabi niya ayos lang, kayang kaya na raw 'yun ni Wagner-tsun.
Natapos na ni Wagner-tsun ang pagsusuri sa katawan ng biktima kaya lumapit na kami kay Ludwig na katatapos lang din na tanungin silang mga suspek. Wagner-tsun said that Mister Ytrivo was definitely poisoned.
Kaya siyempre, maniniwala ako sa kanila. Isa pa, matatandang tigang lang ang kaya kong utuin.
Kaya nga lang. . . bigla na lang itinuro ni Ludwig bilang poisoner 'yung asawa ng biktima. Siyempre, nagalit 'yung pamilya. Sino bang maniniwala sa'min? Kriminal lang naman kami.
Naghahanap pa nga sila ng pulis. Pero siyempre, hindi pa talaga namin sila tinatawagan. Allergic kami sa pulis. Kriminal kami eh.
Pero teka nga. . . 'Yung asawa ba talaga ang pumatay?
Nilingon ko si Wagner-tsun para makakuha sana ng kompirmasyon pero kay Ludwig lang siya nakatingin. Ang kanyang mga mata ay para lamang sa lalaking nagpapatibok ng kanyang puso.
Sigh. Third wheel ka ngayon, Couver. Kawawa ka naman.
"Saan inilagay ang lason?" Lukas asked breaking the tension between Ludwig and his mother.
Ito naman kasing si Ludwig, hindi ko rin maintindihan.
"Food," sabat noong mayamang gago.
Paano ko nasabing mayaman? Naka-suit pa eh. Tapos sobrang kinis.
"En!" Ludwig agreed. Kinindatan niya pa 'yung nagsalita. Siyempre nagselos si Wagner-tsun. Inirapan niya sila. "Freigu and Stavroux may be the one who served the food but they don't know which one is for Mister Ytrivo."
"At hindi rin sila tanga para manlason ng customer," sabat ulit nung mayamang gago.
"How sure are you that it is on the food?" Lukas questioned once again.
"I did not specify what food it is," Ludwig pointed out. "Poisons can be inhaled, ingested, and entered through open wounds." Nilingon niya si Wagner-tsun.
"He has no visible open wounds."
Woah! Is this the legendary telepathy between lovers?
"Therefore, he either inhaled it or ingested. The fact that he's the only one who got poisoned, ventilation can be directly crossed out leaving ingestion as the only way," Laurist hypothesized.
Naalala ko rin ang pangalan niya!
"It was definitely in the food," Wagner-tsun reaffirmed.
"It has to be in the food," Ludwig seconded. "The only one who assisted him while eating is none other than you. . . his wife. And by crying and continuously wiping your tears, you can also wipe your hands clean for any inspection."
"You're spouting nonsense! Bakit ko papatayin ang asawa ko? All my life I only wish to have a perfect husband. Now that I have it in my hands why would I ruined it?" the wife yelled furiously.
Hinampas-hampas pa niya si Ludwig. Muntikan na nga sana siyang matumba sa sahig ngunit kaagad na nakaalalay ang napakabait niyang anak na si Wilson.
"Then what about if Mister Ytrivo is not the perfect husband anymore? Maybe he has a mistress! Sa sobrang hindi mo matanggap, you decided to kill him. Hindi na kasi siya ang perfect husband na sinasabi mo."
"Nonsense! Hindi magkakaroon ng kabit si Alex!"
"So you're the mistress?" Wagner asked.
"No!"
"Mistresses will never admit that they are home wreckers." Laurist continued the assault.
Woah! Paano kaya kapag sila na ni Wagner ang nag-usap HAHAHAHAH.
"Kaya malamang hindi ka rin aamin na gumamit ka ng poisonerism as a method of killing." Siyempre hindi ako papahuli. Kailangan ko rin ng line.
"Dimwit."
"Idiot."
Wagner and Laurist both mocked me while Ludwig stifled a laugh.
"Hey! Hey! Minamata ni'yo ba 'ko porket hindi English 'yung sinunod ko? Ah!"
"Nope. I am mocking you because of your intelligence. Intelligence. Talino. Fortunately, you don't possess that," Laurist once again shoot his venomous mouth.
"What the hell is a poisonerism?"
Humanda 'to sa'kin mamaya. Nanakawan ko talaga 'to. Hmph!
"You still don't want to admit, Misis Mary Ytrivo?" Ludwig became serious again as he charged her again for the crime.
"I'm not a mistress. He doesn't have a mistress! I'm his second wife and it's only been a year since he remarried!"
"Mom? Are you alright?"
Eh? Edi ibig sabihin. . . mali ang hula ni Ludwig.
"Then you must be after the money. As far as I know, a soldier's retirement fee costs several millions of ruso," suhestiyon ni Laurist na tinanguan nila Wagner-tsun at Ludwig.
Eh? Bakit hindi ko na sila maintindihan?
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