Lola Longleg by Mr.Peanut

Lola Longleg was very dead.

My job was to find out how and why.

The crime scene is a huge mansion in the opulent part of the town. I enter the house with white walls, marble floors and a bloody staircase. Extremely bloody. Since this is where Lola was murdered roughly two hours ago. 

 Dozens of worried teenagers and tense police officers stare at me. I show my badge to the officers and declare:

—Detective Axwell. Here to chat with the suspects.

Having been informed everything I needed to know about the victim, I already know who I need to question first:

—Where can I find Blake Roberts?

The smug voice from behind me replies:

—Here.

Looking around I spot a brunette guy on the sofa, his arms draped around its back, head tipped backwards. The room is full of nervous looks and murmurs, yet he seemed to be relaxed.

—Where may we talk privately?

Blake smirks. Seemingly unfazed by the prospect of being questioned. That meant that he was either a)innocent b) a sociopath or c) stupid enough to think he’d get away with anything. 

Despite his attempts to seem relaxed, his left eye twitched and his legs trembled when he stood up. So it was most like d) a facade. That indicated secrets. Secrets I was here to uncover.

Blake leads me to a nearby guestroom. I sit at the armchair and he leans against the windowsill and crosses his arms.

—You live here with your parents?

— Yeah. They left for the weekends so I could throw this party. Neat, right?

—Not so neat considering your ex-girlfriend has been murdered today. Did you happen to see who pushed her?

—Nope.

—There was Vicodin found in her blood, do you know who gave it to her?

Blake snorts:

—Lola was a junkie. She didn’t need anyone to “give” her anything.

If he’s telling the truth, that completely ruins my theory about someone spiking her drink. But if Lola was an active drug user, why would she mix it with alcohol? There was lots and lots of it in her system. Surely an experienced person would know not to make such a mistake. Maybe she was reckless and if that was common knowledge—the murderer would expect her to be weak and simply picked the right moment to push her. That left plenty of suspects. And a lot of work for me.

—Is there anyone among your guests who could’ve been her enemy?

Blake chuckles at my question:

—Who wasn’t? Lola didn’t exactly have the best reputation.

—Did you dislike her as well?

Blake freezes in shock, evidently not expecting such a blunt accusation. I push:

—Did you maybe have some unresolved issues?

His mask is almost fully off by this point. He no longer has the strength to keep pretending he’s not worried, so he keeps silent. I sigh.

—I will be honest, Mr.Roberts. This doesn’t look good for you: your ex-girlfriend gets pushed down the stairs at your house party and you are reluctant to cooperate. 

—I won’t talk without a lawyer.

I knew this would happen. So I decide to change tactics:

—Fine, don’t talk, just follow me.

To my surprise he complies and follows me out. I lead him to the staircase, ignoring the scared faces of his friend around us. We climb up, careful not to slip on the blood, until we’re stood at the top.

—This was the last thing Lola had seen before she died.

Blake looks down and shudders, but glares at me after a second:

—That’s not gonna make me talk.

—I know. I don’t need you to. Just picture it: Lola, In a room full of enemies and people who only see her as a disgusting junkie, looking down the stairs. And then she feels the push. Being under the influence of alcohol and drugs, she can't fight back, so she just…falls. 

—Finally

—Pardon?

—She probably thought “finally” when she fell.

—You’re saying she wanted to die?

—Who wouldn’t? You said it yourself. She was disliked. Severely.

Of course the primary suspect would suggest suicide as the best explanation, yet it was something I have also considered. Regarldess, I was glad my method worked and made him talk. 

—Why did you invite her then? 

Blake is silent at first, and for a moment I’m worried he remembered his promise to be silent, when he whispers:

—We were never together, it was a cover.

—A cover?

He winces at that, looking down the stairs surreptitiously to check if any of his friends heard anything and I piece the puzzle in my head: Blake wasn’t attracted to women so he pretended to date Lola. Classic. That explained his earlier behavior: he was used to hiding his true self so he preferred to wear a mask. 

—She knew your secrets. So you decided to kill her.

His eyes widen at my suggestion. 

—I would never- She wouldn’t- She helped me out and promised to keep it between us. 

So he invited her as act of friendship, and she decided it was the perfect place to end her life. That would explain her mixing alcohol with drugs. Blake’s body language told me he was telling the truth. Unlike his previous attempts to fake cockiness, there was no facade. Just raw emotions. But I still wasn’t sure.

—Why didn’t you tell me that earlier? Why should I believe you?

Blake sighs, looking down the trails of blood on the stairs below us.

—She wouldn’t want anyone to know she did it. That would make her seem weak in their eyes… It feels like I betrayed her by telling you.

I look the boy up and down and try to see signs of uncertainty. I only see a defeated teenager, who’s tired of battling alone and who just lost the only person who knew his darkest secrets. 

—So what, you just wanted me to pin this on somebody so she wouldn’t be exposed?

Blake chews on his inner cheek and smiles at me weakly:

—I didn’t think this through, did I?

—We won’t make it official. 

I was still supposed to question more people and confirm a lot of Blake’s words, but something told me the case was closed and Lola Longled was in a better place.