Murder Mystery/Thriller (A Work Sample)

It was cold outside.

Large tufts of wooly rainclouds shrouded the moon, stars, and the inky blue canvas of the sky away from sight. Off to the east, the horizon came alive with subdued flashes of lightning; nothing but a lackluster show of elemental power at the moment. The wind combed through with a malicious chill, trying to chew into the skin of Lisette Fournier’s crimson-tinged exposed face. She pulled her overcoat tighter around her petite frame, and wished she had at least gotten the chance to put on a beanie over her short, choppy black hair.

Rubbing gloved hands together, she cupped her cheeks, and trod on along the silent cobblestone path.

Despite the somberness of the sky overhead, the ornate lamps stationed strategically around the compound, flooded the terrain with light.

The trees in the LeDoux compound whispered among themselves, influenced by the wind’s currents.

Up ahead, Alil LeDoux’s private residence drew close. It was a small stone manor slumbering at the end of a circular drive toward the back of the compound. The round patch of mown glass in the middle of the drive was home to a black marble depiction of Alil LeDoux. As if walking through this expansive compound doesn’t do enough to showcase the power of its owner, Lisette thought.

The drapes over the mullioned windows kept the light inside from falling through, but some of the effulgence still seeped out through small openings in the fabric. It was quiet. Awfully quiet.

Lisette’s boots scuffed on the stone floor as she stopped in front of the mahogany double door entrance. Her eyes fell on the antique knocker at the top of the door. She used it, as usual.

Severally, the arrhythmic thump of the knocker traveled through the manor, and the response was always the same. Dead silence.

Lisette’s forehead creased with worry. That was unusual.

She had barely reached for her phone when she noticed the crack between the door.

It was open.

The worry lines on her forehead deepened.

Gingerly, she pushed the door open. It squeaked on its hinges, surfing the waves of silence, which was exacerbated by the well-lit interior of the house.

“Hello!” Lisette asked tentatively, stopping at the entrance.

Eyes glazed with concern and consternation looked past the empty front office, and noticed the mess in the living room.

“Anyone there!” Lisette called again. “Professor?” She gulped dryly. “Alil?”

Her voice whittled, fading in confidence.

Bravely, cautious, she stepped into the house and headed for the living room.

The mess sprawled out all over the glossy hardwood floor. Dirty dishes, food delivery boxes, storyboards and clothes in a heap. The unfazed expression on Lisette’s face disclosed that she was familiar with such sights. Her curiosity took her past the living room. The entire time, her heart thumped spiritedly.

She found three women naked on a king size bed in Alil’s bedroom. A party, she thought. Again, pretty common. There was still no sign of Alil.

“Alil,” she called. Her voice sounded much stronger now. Confidence was trickling in.

She moved into the adjacent room.

For a second, it was all quiet.

Then, someone retched and puked.

Lisette ran out not long after, crimson-faced, eyes bulging, lips wet with vomit. A mangled cry of terror escaped her lips. She looked shaken to the core. Out of breath. Her heart rampaged.

Quickly, she dashed out toward the front office. The alarm button.

She needed help. It was her only hope.