He came himself to the front door of the Mansion to meet me, eyes as dead as stale oysters; a seemingly perpetual tight grin of thin lips that appeared curled in petulant disdain.The dressing gown, I was expecting. It was all part of the act as far as I was concerned. He looked slyly sideways and seemed to lean forward with a concentration, alien to his normal public demeanour.
“Come in Detective Baker”
He led the way. Heavy ornate and excessively stuffed furniture, vied with dark crimson drapes for wealthy mediocrity, and what penetrating light apparent, reluctantly prevailed like shafts of ennui into this man's private world.
The broad with the balcony had already mixed him a drink and enquiringly looked across. Translucent lids, of fine texture scarce hid the dark blue orbs that burned below with unapparent fire.
“Mine’s Jack on the rocks,” the policeman responded.
She somehow managed to negotiate the sheath of a dress from the drinks cabinet across to where he was sitting. Bending to place the tumbler on a side table, he noted the droplet of moisture on her top lip, and the balcony precariously cantilevered forward.
Sustaining anticipation on her part? It was if she would have to touch him. To speak, to see, was nothing. Darkness and silence must fall perfectly on her, then she would know mystically in unrevealed touch; fingers of silence upon silence.
“Have you heard of Appius Claudius Caecus?” from the host opposite. The voice was soft and the mask slipped just a touch.
“I thought I was here to interview you about the murder, but sure, was he not the Roman senator who coined the phrase “fabrum esse suae quemque fortunae?”
“Correct. He was in fact originally a Censor under the Roman system and had not previously been Consul. He got his promotion by seeking support from the lower classes, and allowing sons of freed slaves to serve in the Senate. He later went blind according to Livy, apparently due to a curse. But it was when he gave a famous speech against Cineas, declaring that Rome would never surrender, that this became the first recorded political speech in Latin, and is the source of the saying "every man is the architect of his own fortune."
“So, where is the connection for a dick from Homicide like myself?”
“ I’m sorry Detective. I realise that this might at first appear as irrelevant as Oprah interviewing this months celeberity of the month, but bear with me.”
Fear is a *****. Stroke its neck and it will follow you faithfully to the darkest corner of your room. One could smell it on him.
Over in the corner, this months centrefold wished he were passionate, because in passion she was at home. But this was so still and frail, as space is more frightening than force.
When the owner of the house spoke, it was slowly and with effort as if wrestling with an accommodating vice as opposed to an obstinate virtue.
“You are well aware of my business and my age Detective.Sometimes I have said to myself that sensual pleasure would put an end to my trouble, and I have increasingly tried to liberate my mind by exhausting my flesh. But wheras rejection is unknown in my position, pity and humiliation is too hurtful. I strangled her in the knowledge there was some of the inevitability and the beauty of fate, fate which one asks for, and which one accepts in full. Do you understand?”
“Actually I do,” answered the detective, and went through the litany of the formal caution.
The squad car eventually took the arrested individual away; outside of the Mansion, in a setting where clouds were a canopy akin the sun's resplendent couch. As the block sedan pulled away down the long drive, one could see in the rear, a handcuffed figure of crime, the likeness of a fallen throned king.
The lambent warmth of the lady stood aside to let the detective re-enter the house. In both his mind and hers, there was unfinished business.
NOTE: ***** denote a female canine.
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It would have been funnier or more appropriate to have said something like, "Somehow she persuaded her sheath of a dress to cooperate as she slunk from the drinks cabinet to the place he was sitting." That, "he came himself" is just tautologous. If he came to the door, he came to the door. It's over-written and trying too hard. Kind of clashes with the hard-boiled tone. Methinks it should be pithier. "Translucent lids, of fine texture scarce hid the dark blue orbs that burned below with unapparent fire." again, overwritten and the comma's in the wrong place. "Scarce(ly) hid?" "unapparent fire?" Kind of drifts into the realms of nineteenth century romantic poetry, which is just clashing with the Warner Brothers noir!