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MysteryFiction
Home›Fiction›Mystery›Sally: Part Six

Sally: Part Six

By Brooke_Smith93
December 3, 2020
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Photo courtesy by Enrique Meseguer on pixbay.com
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“Of course. This shit would happen to me,” Emilee murmured as she searched through the sand by the burnt debris. “I just wanted a simple life, but here I am.”

She found nothing but seashells and a broken beach shovel. Her patience was disappearing faster than daylight.

“I don’t even know what color the journal might be. Damn brat is just wasting my damn time.”

A gush of wind blew by, carrying Sally’s voice.

“I am not!  I really want to end this!” Sally cried. “My journal was light purple with a yellow star on the cover. Keep looking!”

“I haven’t spotted anything like that. It’s probably a pile of ashes now,” Emilee replied. “I’m about to go. I feel disgusting with all this sand.”

Another gust of wind came.

“Ugh! He will never stop until somebody stops him. Be that person!”

“I’m trying,” Emilee said, slamming down each broken wooden piece harder each time. Her heart jumped to her throat when she realized the shadow of a man standing behind her.

“Oh. Sorry for scaring you, ma’am,” a bulky man in a neon orange vest answered. “I came to pick up the rest of the debris.”

“Oh. I am looking for a purple journal with a star on it. Any chance of you coming across one?”

The man held up a finger and walked over to his wagon. He dug in a pouch in the front.

“Is this it?” the man answered as he held up a purple journal with a burnt corner.

“Yes,” Emilee smiled. “That’s it. You are truly a lifesaver!”

***

“I’m sorry, Sir. I cut you off.”

“Fuck you,” Mr. Irwin cursed as he leaned over the bar and grabbed a whiskey bottle. “I’ll drink as long as I want.”

“You can’t, and you won’t.” The bartender pulled the bottle out of his hand and pushed him off.

Mr. Irwin growled and swung his fists towards the bartender’s face. The bouncers grabbed him and held him down until a cop came.

“Nice job lying low, you moron…” The demonic voice appeared. “Don’t worry. We will have lots of quality time soon, HA!”

***

“Looks like Mr. Irwin tried to drink his problems away. He got into a fight with a bartender.” Madsen smiled.  “The deputy from a sister county is transferring him here.”

“Wow, what crazy luck,” Berber responded. “When will he arrive?”

“In a couple of hours. I’m going to get lunch and get my notes together.”

“Alright.”

Emilee was about to slide a manilla envelope with the journal inside under the door when Madsen stepped out.

“Oh. Hello, Mrs. Dolson. I was about to go… What brings you here?”

“Crap. I was so close. Here goes nothing,” Emilee thought as she cleared her throat.

“I found evidence that might help your Sally case… Evidence that will reveal her killer,” she answered as she handed over the envelope.

Madsen raised her left eyebrow and opened it.

“Is this hers?”

“Yes.”

Madson pulled the journal out and skipped through a few pages. Her blood boiled as she read an entry stating, “I am just glad he drugged me before putting me through the terrible pain.”

“Where did you…”

“You wouldn’t believe me..”

“Well I was about to go grab a bite. Please join me. I’ll be all ears.”

***

“You can’t charge me! There is no evidence!”

“Then what do you call this?” Madson said as she placed copies of Sally’s journal entries in front of him.

“NOOOOO!”

“Gotcha,” Sally giggled, disappearing into the light.

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Brooke_Smith93

Brooke Settoon Smith is from Louisiana. She graduated from Southeastern Louisiana University with a bachelor's degree in English with a concentration in Creative Writing and a minor in History. She has a blog called Creative Works by Brooke Settoon Smith, which presents her most recent short stories and poems. She is recently an author on the mobile app called Texties. She is a contributing writer for The Mighty and Unwritten. She has also created a blog called Rolling Through Life by Brooke Smith, which presents her perspective on being born with Cerebral Palsy.

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    There are Facebook and Reddit groups dedicated to women expressing ongoing frustration over flying with breastmilk. ...

    Post 9/11

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    thank you!

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    Seth you have a magical way with words.

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    Ivor, your poems are always so uplifting as are your photos!

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    A very heartfelt message. I'm sorry for your loss.

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