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It was a dark and stormy night, one that should be spent inside with a cup of hot chocolate in front of the fireplace. Unfortunately for detective Presley his apartment didn’t have a fireplace and the taste of hot chocolate made him sick so it was either sit at home and think about how his life had ran past him so fast or take up this case and come out here like he was told to and, he figured, he would get paid for that.
“So”, said McStorgin, “you decided to show up, how come?”
“TV doesn’t work”, Presley replied, “so what do we have here?”
McStorgin went over the situation while they walked through the crowd of policemen, media and curious bystanders. A 43 year old woman stabbed in the throat with a cooking knife at her home in Shersky, a little town just outside of Manchester probably between 10 and midnight last night.
They ran into Dr.Hide in the doorway, a small, fat and constantly sweaty man.
“It’s horrible” he said “just terrible oh my god who does these sort of things?”
Despite his popular nickname around the station, the penguin, Presley had always thought of Dr.Hide more like a goldfish because no matter how many murder scenes he’d been to and no matter how much he was warned over the phone he was always so surprised and shocked when he saw the body that it was like he was doing it for the first time, every time.
“She didn’t even die right away” he continued “she must have laid there for at least an hour struggling to breathe.”
They left him in the doorway still talking and walked into the kitchen where they were greeted by a blinding flash, when his eyes started working again the first thing Presley saw was a hairy cat sitting on top of the refrigerator like a vulture and there, on the floor was his pray.
She was wearing a red dress with flowers on it and blue plastic sandals and pink curlers in her hair, her face almost as blue as the sandals and her head sitting in a puddle of blood, the knife had not been removed from her throat and stuck out like a flag pole.
“It didn’t hit her in the artery or else she would have died within a minute”, said McStorgin, “so, what’s your theory?”
Presley wasn’t listening; he wasn’t focusing on anything but her face, so blue from not being able to breathe, he’d seen it before, it was all so clear now, he hadn’t thought about it in15 years.
His mothers face so blue, hanging from the chandelier, her feet still twitching….
He closed his eyes and looked away, he needed to get out of there
“I…I want to talk to the husband”, he said.
Bob Blunton was a tall and masculine man, sported a cowboy-like mustache and his hair combed over the bald spot, he lay over the table with his hands covering his face and breathing very heavily.
Presley had introduced himself and Bob had done the same, Presley hadn’t said anything more hoping that Bob would somehow start the interrogation.
“Did your wife have any enemy’s Mr.Blunton?” He said to start somewhere
“Enemy’s?” Bob yelled “enemy’s, this isn’t 1743 you know”
Presley sight, there was a thin line between sorrow and anger and anger always felt a little better.
“No I didn’t mean it like that I’m sorry” he said “I just meant someone who would like to cause her harm, someone who…..”
“No” Bob said “no one”
“And you’re sure about that?”
“Absolutely”
“Where were you at the night of the murder mr.Blunton?”
Bob banged his fist on the table “what the hell are you suggesting?”
“I’m not suggesting anything I just….”
Bob didn’t let him finish, “I know what you’re doing” he said “you’re trying to make me confess something I didn’t do”
Presley didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say
“That would be very comfortable for you wouldn’t it?” Presley couldn’t tell whether Bob was crying or just yelling any more.
“Her husband did it, case closed”
Bob fell down to the floor crying,
“We will talk more later” Presley said and walked out.

Anna Mabry was a small but good looking woman in here twenties, it was she who had heard noises from the Blunton house and went over there to find Mary Blunton dead.
She was wearing a white shirt and a black skirt and looked surprisingly calm under these circumstances. The guy interrogating her, a rookie called Eugene, seemed more interested in her personal life than the case so Presley interfered.
“Good morning Mrs.Mabry I’m detective James Presley and I’ll be taking it from here” he said as he walked through the door.
“Presley?” she said “like Elvis?”
“No, not like Elvis at all”
“Excuse me” said Eugene “but I’m handling this interrogation just fine thank you”
“Well, you certainly know how to keep your eyes open” said Presley “and if we think that any clue regarding the murder can be found on Mrs.Marby’s breasts we’ll be sure to call you”
Eugene’s face got even redder then his hair and he ran out of the room while mumbling “excuse me” and “sorry”.
“Hormones can do a lot of things but they can’t solve murders” Presley said as he sat down in front of Mrs.Mabry “So, what exactly did you hear last night?”
“Well” said Mrs.Mabry “I heard a terrible laughter, a maniac’s laughter, like nothing I’ve ever heard before”
“Was that all you heard?”
“No there was screaming, it was Ms.Blunton screaming, then there was a thump and then silence”
“The laughter did you recognize it at all?”
“No”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes”
“How well did you know the Bluntons?”
“Can’t say I did at all”
“But you knew it was Ms.Blunton screaming?”
“Well, she’s the one who’s dead isn’t she?”
Presley decided to use a different approach
“Do you know where Mr.Blunton might have been at the night of the murder” he said
“It wasn’t him” said Mrs.Mabry
“I didn’t…….”
“You didn’t have to”
It was obvious that beating around the bush wouldn’t work with Mrs.Mabry so Presley decided to cut straight to the point.
“Look” he said “Mr.Blunton wasn’t at his home and so far he has no alibi”
“Well” Mrs.Mabry said “It wasn’t his voice laughing anyway”
“I thought you said you didn’t know the Bluntons at all”
“Well I do hear Mr.Blunton’s voice every Sunday, he’s a priest”

“So let me get this straight” McStorgin said “you’re saying that Mr.Blunton, the small town priest who collects stamps, suddenly decided to brutally murder his wife for no reason and not think of an alibi?”
They were sitting in McStorgin’s office and Presley was drinking coffee and thinking about his mother
“I’m sorry I didn’t catch that” he said
“Presley your being ridiculous, now either you go and do some real work on this case or I’m putting you on traffic duty”
Presley looked at McStorgin, he was obviously serious.
“He has no alibi” he said “you can’t ignore stuff like that just because he’s a priest”
“He told me he was at the church cleaning up” said McStorgin
“Why didn’t he tell me that?”
“Maybe because he was insulted that you were accusing him of killing his own wife”
“Or maybe he’s hiding something from us”
“Leave the poor man alone James”
Presley stood up and walked to the door but turned around just before he was out
“A lie detector test”
“A what?” said McStorgin
“One little lie detector test that’s all I need” Presley said “If he’s telling the truth it can’t hurt, right?”
“No way”
“Why not?”
“Because we need a special warrant for those tests and I’m not going through that kind of trouble just because you have a stupid hunch”
Presley was going to say something but didn’t, he walked out the door but quickly turned back
“It doesn’t have to be that kind of lie detector” he said

Bob Blunton looked extremely pissed to have been brought back to the police station, he sat with his hands crossed and didn’t take his eyes of a spot on the wall even when Presley walked in.
“So I hear you’re a priest” Presley said
“That’s right I am” Bob replied
“So I guess you know this baby back and forth” Presley took his hands from behind his back and showed Bob a copy of the Bible.
“I would say so yes” Bob replied
“Tell me father Blunton” Presley said “What does the ninth commandment say?”
“Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor”
“And that means?”
“It means you shouldn’t lie, it’s wrong” said Bob
“I see” said Presley “put your hand on it please”
“What”
“Put your hand on the Bible father”
Bob put his hand on the Bible and sighed.
“Now” said Presley “repeat after me”
Bob repeated after him what he said
“I Bob Blunton swear to tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth as god is my witness, in Jesus’ name Amen”
“Now father Blunton” Presley said “where were you at…….”
He couldn’t finish his question, Bob lift he’s hands to the sky and screamed.
“Forgive me lord for I have sinned”
“Was that a confession?”
Bob turned to the detective and shook his head
“Mr.Presley I did not kill my wife, I did not, I did not, but I did lie to about where I was that night”
Presley was disappointed but curios
“Well were where you then?” he said
“I don’t know, I don’t know” Bob cried
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“It keeps happening, it keeps happening”
“You’re not making any sense”
Bob tried to calm himself down and stop crying, he took a deep breath and sat back in his chair.
“Mr.Presley every now and then I tend to sort of black out you see?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I suddenly wake up somewhere and I don’t remember what I've been doing for the last hours”
“Pathetic” Presley said “Just pathetic”
“What”
“That’s got to be the worst excuse I have ever heard in my life and I've been a detective for 13 years”
“It’s true I swear”
Presley didn’t answer, he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. He met McStorgin in the hallway.
“You were right” he said
“I always am” McStorgin replied

Bob Blunton sat at home and read in the Bible, he knew every word but seeing them there on the page gave him hope, hope that his wife was in a better place now. The doorbell rang, probably some more well-wishers he thought. He opened the door but quickly closed it again; he’d had enough trouble from that man.
“Mr.Blunton?” Presley called and knocked again “I need to have a word with you”
“Go away” Bob said “I want to be alone”
“I understand sir, but I need to get in”
Bob opened the door slightly and Presley rushed in and closed it behind him.
He explained to Bob that the police had reason to believe that he had killed his own wife and was indeed a danger to society, he said that until they had figured out completely what had happened he would have to stay inside his home.
“I” he added “am here to make sure you do”
“This is outrageous” said Bob
“This is the law” Presley replied
It was nine O’clock when the priest decided to go to bed, they had sat the whole night in silence, Bob reading and Presley thinking about his mother.
“So where do I sleep?” Presley asked
“You’re going to sleep here to?”
“Of course”
“Alright just sleep on the couch I guess”
Presley didn’t sleep at all; he sat there reading in one of the priest’s books.
Shortly after midnight he heard noises from the priest’s room; he stood up and moved closer.
Suddenly the door sprung up and out came Bob with a grin on his face.
“Hello copper” he said
“Hello” Presley said calmly “and who would you be?”
“I’m Sam” said Bob “Sam-slam the back door man”
“Just as I suspected” Presley said and smiled.
Half an hour later there were police cars gathered around Bob Blunkan’s house and he himself was in a car on the way to Manchester Mental Asylum to be treated for schizophrenia.
Presley saw McStorgin across the street and smiled at him.
“Alright, alright I was wrong” McStorgin said
“You always are” Presley replied




THE END