Deadline

[Michelle Mackenzie (Admin)]

Chapter I[/u]

Nadine followed her husband, George, to a large hotel in Flagstone.
The building loomed over the smaller buildings, making them look tiny in comparison.
She kept out of sight, biting her lip as her nerves ate at her. George lingered outside the grand building, repeatedly looking at his wrist watch.
He tugged nervously at his stripey blue and white shirt. Pacing back and forth once more, he finally buried his hands deep into his black trouser pockets, grimacing.
A woman walked up to him. It was no one she knew. She was wearing a long seqeuin red dress, red high heeled shoes, with a white jacket that just about covered her back. The woman smiled at him, greeting him with a passionate kiss.
Nadine gritted her teeth,watching as her husband ran his fingers through the woman's long blonde wavy hair.
"I knew it," she thought bitterly. "He is having an affair. Who the hell does he think he is?"
Her hands clenched tightly into fists, bitterly considering walking up to them and slap them both.
Before she could make a decision, George and the woman in red disappeared through the hotel entrance.
Standing silently for what seemed an eternal five minutes, she turns her back on the Ominous building.
Tears threatened to blur her vision as she walked down the frosty pavements of the Flagstone town in the Old Empire of Splice.
She clutched her leather jacket, trying to fight back some of the icy coole air. Her fingers stung from the cold; she wished that she had remembered to pack her gloves before following her husband for almost an hour.
The street was unusally empty; she assumed that a lot of people stayed home to avoid the cold. Now, she wished that she had chosen to do the same. Though, if she had stayed at home in the one bedroomed flat, she would not have seen her husband having an affair.
She felt sick, trying not to think about what her husband was doing with the woman in red.
"I shall not stand for it," she told herself firmly. "Now I know their dirty secret, she is welcome to him."

As she arrived home, she dug her hand deep into her pocket and pulled out her front door keys.
The door opened with an unwelcoming creak. She stepped inside slowly and closed the black painted door behind her. She was greeted by the silence. She walked down the hall, listening to her soft footsteps. She sighed reluctantly before reminding herself of her cheating husband. As much as she loved him, cheating was the only thing that she could not forgive.
She opened a white door, situated next door to the lounge. She glanced around with a frown. The door opened to their bedroom. Swallowing hard, she got down on her knees feeling the soft lilac carpet beneath her. She thrust her hands beneath the double bed and dragged out a suitcase. She grunted, dislodging it from the mattress. Solemnly, she climbed back onto her feet and placed the luggage on to the bed. She blinked, then raised her hands idly to the wardrobe door knobs.
Her clothes were hanging tidely on the right hand side of the large pine wardrobe. A tear rolled down her cheek, as she began to unhook her clothes and place them neatly into her case.
She grabbed her handbag that sat on the dresser beside the bed. It was fairly big, so she had enough room for all her make up.
Zipping up the bags, she took a final look around their room. Returning to collect more of her belongings was something she was not in the mood for. She smiled sadly, glancing proudly at George's manuscript sitting neatly on his bedside cabinet.
She rummaged through his draws and pulled out a sheet of blank paper.
A pen was sitting on top of the pile of paper. She held it gentley and began to write.
A tear rolled down her cheek, dripping on to the paper.

"Dearest George,
I know about your affair with the blonde woman. I saw how you kissed her; the way you used to kiss me. I am sorry that I am not enough for you anymore. I am angry at your betrayal. Worse, I am angry at myself for thinking that you wouldn't betray me. Be assured, this will not happen again.
Yours no more,
Nadine.
You are free."

Nadine pulled a pin out from her sewing kit she found in her husband's draw, then pinned the letter to a wall beside the front door. She took a deep breath in, then opened the front door, closing it behind her. She stood mute for a long moment, silently vowing to somehow repay him for his betrayal.

The morning arrived with the usual bitter cold air.
Warren's phone began to ring. "Hello?" he yawned.
He sighed, it was his boss calling.
"George Groundsman didn't turn up for court? Are you sure?"
He rolled his eyes, his boss wasn't amused.
"No sir. I am not second guessing you. I will go and pick him up right now."
He hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes. He would have to buy some breakfast on the way over to see George, again. It was becoming an unhealthy habit.
He grabbed his coat, for once being thankful that he always got dressed before breakfast.
He slipped on his black shoes, then fastened his buttons of his brown trench coat.
With a sigh of reluctance, he grabbed his brown texas immatation hat from the coat hanger.
He grabbed his keys and walked out of the front door, slamming it behind him.
He stepped out of the house, gritting his teeth from the cold.
He stepped towards his silver car, and unlocked the doors.
He climbed in, shivering as he pulled his sleeves over his hands.
Warren turned on the heating and waited to warm up.
A few minutes later, he switched on the egnition and began to drive towards Flagstone.

The Bounty Hunter stepped out of his car. He frowned, shuddering as he approached the front door.
He raised his fist to knock on the solid door. The front door creaked open, revealing the dark appartment.
He flicked a light switch, hoping for some light. The halls remained in darkness.
"Hello? Mr Groundsman? You've missed your court appearance. I have to take you straight to the station."
Warren walked through the halls and entered the lounge. He could see a shadow of someone laying on the floor.
He took a step closer, feeling a wave of dread wash over him.
"Dear spirits, watch over this mans soul." he preyed.
Swallowing hard, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called the police.
He clutched the phone tightly, staring into the dead eyes of George Groundsman.
He layed on the thick moave carpet, beside a broken flower pot. It had some visible blood on the surface. He swallowed hard. This man had been murdered.
Whilst he waited for the police to arrive, he slowly began to look around. There was no sign of a break in when he approached the house. It would be a good guess that the killer was someone he knew.
He frowned, wondering where the wife was. Feeling a little uneasy, he glanced down at the body again. He wandered back over to the entrance, noticing the bedroom door was open.
"Hello?" he called. His thoughts strayed as he began to worry for Mrs Groundsman. Was she ok?
The bedroom appeared untouched. He frowned, then stopped as he gazed down at the floor beside the bed. A sheet of paper had fell between the bed and the cabinet. Warren tilted his head, reading a sentence on the page; below the last sentences he could see someone had typed "The end".
He blinked, smirking a little. There had been a couple of rumours among the hunters that George was writing a manuscript to a novel. He looked around again, unable to find the rest of the pages.
Maybe he already sent it off to be published? He mused. Beside the bedside cabinet, was a calandar with an appointment written down. He took out his mobile and copied down the details.
"Publish Proudly with PP Self Publishing. Talk to publisher about MS."
Beneath that, was a number to contact them on. Warren copied the number into his mobile and then turned back to face the front door. He blinked, noticing a letter on the wall.
It was from George's wife. He frowned, shaking his head with disgust. Some men just don't know what they have until they screw it up.
Finally, the police arrived along with the coroner.
"Warren Rage?"
Warren nodded. "You are?"
The detective flashed him her badge. "I'm Sarah Rox. Homicide Detective. You can call me Detective though."
Warren nodded mutely.
"What happened here, Warren?"
Warren frowned. "I am a bounty hunter. George here has missed his trail yesterday. I came to pick him up. The door was open. I looked inside and found him laying in the lounge with a flower pot beside his head. He has a wife, though I am not sure where she is. There is a letter from her on the wall behind you."
Sarah began to take some notes, tagging the letter as evidence.
She walked into the lounge, taking a breif glance at the victim. "The man was killed with a flower pot?" she raised an eye brow. Warren shrugged his shoulders. "It looks that way."
The woman groaned, "Great. A killer who thinks he is a smart ass."
Warren frowned, "Not necissarily.. Maybe it was a spur of a moment. Maybe the killer just grabbed the pot and hit the man over the head?"
Sarah glared at him. "I am not bothered with your theories. Your bounty is dead. Go back and tell your boss, then move on. I have a murder to solve."
Warren sighed, thinking of all the evidence he saw. Reluctantly he began to leave.
"Find the wife. I am liking her a lot for this murder."
Warren turned around to object, sweeping his hat off his bald head.
"I don't think she killed him."
Sarah laughed coldly. "Well, I do!"
Frowning, Warren left the flat.
[/size]

[Erosaf]

o.O surely she didn't do it....

[Michelle Mackenzie (Admin)]

You will have to wait n see.

[Michelle Mackenzie (Admin)]

Chapter II[/u]

Stepping outside, Warren pulled out his mobile phone with a frown.
He swallowed hard, then began to dial the number to call his boss. He will not be in the best of moods. "Hello, Sir? We have a problem."
There was a tense moment of silence.
"I can't bring Mr Groundsman into court."
His boss sighed, "Why not?"
Warren cringed, here comes the big news.
"George Groundsman has been murdered. The police are at his place now."
"Are you sure he is dead?"
Warren sighed, "Yes sir. I am the one that found the body."
There was a moment of silence. "All right," his boss had said.
"Take a few days off, then come back to work when you've recovered from this shock."
Warren nodded, "Thank you, sir."

The boss hung up on him. Warren closed his eyes, then began to walk to his car.
As he climbed in, he waited for a few minutes, warming by the car heating.
After feeling warmer, Warren switchen on the ignition, took off the handbrake and then began to drive home. The roads were icy, making it difficult to drive. Frowning, he reluctantly drove home stuck in second gear, slightly faster than mobility scooter.

After a very slow drive home, he finally arrived at his bungalow.
He let himself in and switched on the kettle in the kitchen. He grunted, feeling slightly grateful that he had not eaten breakfast before finding the victim's body.

He washed his hands, then dug some bread out from the cupboard. The door opened stiffly, before clicking it closed again.
He slipped the oat bread slices into a toaster and waited.
He reached beside him, grabbing the margerine from the fridge. He sighed. He toyed with the idea of adding cheese. After a moment though, he closed the door and returned to the toaster.
The toast was all ready waiting and were quickly becoming cold.
He spread the butter onto his slices then went to the lounge.

Though less than half the morning had passed, the day was becoming cooler as time dragged on. He leaned in towards his fire place, poking the wood with the fire poker. Then, grimacing, he shivered. He took a match from the shelf above the fire place, then struck the stick against its box. He watched vividly as a flame leapt from the end.

Carefully, he placed the lit match stick into the fire place and waited. He frowned, the fire was not big enough to light the fire place. Using another match, he grabbed his old newspaper sport page, then lit it with another match. The flames began to grow, dancing on the end of the newspaper.

Once again, he placed the flames in the fire place and watched as the fire began to grow.

Soon, there was enough fire to warm his room. The fire gate guard framed the fire, avoiding getting burnt. He wasn't stupid though, he mused to himself. Even he knows not to leave the fire unattended.
With a smile, he watched as the fire began to die out. He reached for his drink, then sat in front of the desktop computer. He huffed. Eventually, he will get a laptop. Desktops were taking up too much room. He thought about the manuscript, sighing again. It was a shame that he could only find the last page. He scratched his head thoughtfully. Would it be so hard to write a novel?

He sat staring at the blank screen. "Apparently," he muttered to himself. "It's harder than it looks." Warren leaned back in his chair, staring at the blank white screen. His eyes transfixed on the blinking cursor. "Maybe I will give it a try after George's killer has been caught."
He grabbed a sheet of paper, then wrote a memo to himself. "Tomorrow, offer the detective some help. If refused, then will just have to investigate this case myself."

The time began to get later in the day. The sky began to darken, and his stomach began to growl.
Warren reached into the fridge, pulling out a chocolate bar.
The fire had now completely died out, and was no closer to writing a novel.

Feeling like a spare part, he opened his bedroom door and stared at his book shelves.
He smiled, pulling a crime novel off the old cracked shelf. He continued to walk into the bedroom, then sat in his bed. A small lamp beside him glowed softly, shining just enough light to read the black print in the ten year old book. It was his favourite, and had been reading it for ten years.
As he began to read, his eyes began to drift close. The night had sneaked up on him.

Tired and eager to sleep, Warren placed his book beside him and rested his head on his pillow.
As soon as the soft surface greeted his head, he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Warren's phone began to ring. The sun had just started to rise over the horizon.
"Hello," he groaned. A panicked voice greeted him.
"Warren? This is Nadine. George's wife. I am down at the police station; they have arrested me for murder."
Warren groaned, Sarah didn't take her time.
"All right," he yawned. "I will be right over. I will see if there is anything I can do."
"Thank you," Nadine sobbed. "He was a cheating bastard, but I didn't kill him. I swear I didn't!"
Warren sighed, "All right Nadine. I am on my way."
He hung up the phone, then once again got dressed and ready to leave with no time for breakfast.

As he arrived at the police station, he stood tensely as he waited at the front desk.
"I would like to see Nadine please. I have been asked to come see her."
"What's her crime?" the receptionist asked boredly.
Warren sighed, "I am not sure she commited a crime. She has been accused of killing her husband. Now, let me see her."
The woman shook her head. "I am not allowed to allow you to see the suspects."
Warren groaned, "Then let me speak to the officer in charge of the murder investigation."
The woman rolled her green eyes as she twirled her short brown hair.
"Sarah, there is a man demanding to see you. He wants to see your suspect, Nadine Groundsman."

There was a moment of silence. The receptionist hung up the phone and glanced at the bounty hunter warily. "She will be right with you," she told him firmly.
Warren stepped away from the desk, and waited for Sarah to arrive.

A few minutes past, waiting in the awkward silence before Sarah finally stormed through the office door. "You again? Why have I been interupted to see you?"
Warren sighed, "Nadine called me. She said that you lot have arrested her for murder. I am not sure that she killed him. So. I would like to talk to her, as she has asked to see me."

The woman glared at him, hate filled her brown eyes. She remained silent.
"That isn't going to be a problem, is it? Now, lead me to her cell."
Grumbling to herself, she opened the door. "I suppose I have no choice. Maybe we might finally get some answers from her."
They walked down a long cold corridor. The halls smelt of fresh paint, and the walls beside them was teal blue. At the far end of the hall, Sarah Rox unlocked a large metal door.

Nadine jumped from her bench, throwing herself at the bounty hunter.
"Thank you for coming. I never thought I would be so pleased to see you again."

Warren nodded. "George missed his court trial. I had to pick him up, which was when I discovered his body in the lounge. I am sorry for your loss. Now, tell me what happened. I saw the note when I arrived at your house, but I would like the whole story."

Nadine nodded and had begun to tell her story.
"After I pinned the letter to the wall, I got a taxi to my sister's place," she finished.
"Maybe she was his publisher? I saw the last page on the floor beside the bed."
Nadine shook her head, "Not the way they kissed. Besides, his publisher is Carl."
Warren frowned, "Was the woman the editor?"
Nadine thought back a tearful sob. "No. He edits his own work. You'd see the corrections when you look through the pages."
Warren cleared his throat, "We only found the last page."
Nadine gasped, "Then someone has stolen it."

Warren's brow creased, "What's the name of the publishing company?"
"PPSP, it stands for Publish Proudly with Self Publishing. They say that they are very good at their job. They better do him proud with the price they have got from him."
Warren sighed. It could be a vanity publisher, he thought silently.
He turned to Sarah, who was looking just as impatient.
"Have you spoke to the publisher?"
The woman shook her head. Sighing again, he got out his mobile phone and searched for the number that he had copied from the calandar at the crime scene.

The phone began to ring, and the bounty hunter waited in silence.
After a couple of rings, the phone finally stopped ringing.
"Hello?" Warren greeted, "I would like to speak to Carl please."
"This is Carl," a man replied.
Warren smiled, "Carl, I need to speak to you about a manuscript. Can we meet?"
Carl agreed. "Come to my office in an hour. We can talk then."
Warren looked at Sarah, grinning. "I shall be there."
The bounty hunter hung up the phone and turned to the police officer in front of him.
"Sarah, we have an hour to get to the publishing company. Would you like some help?"
Sarah glared at him for a moment. "I shall talk to him myself. You have done enough all ready, now let me do my job, or I will have you arrested for interfereing."

Warren rolled his eyes. "There is no need to threaten me, such tactics don't work with me.
If you won't find the real killer, then I will."
[/font][/size]

[Michelle Mackenzie (Admin)]

Chapter 3[/size][/b][/u]

Warren gave Nadine a breif hug before leaving the building.
He looked down at the mobile phone, reading the address of the publishing company.
He smiled, it wasn't far from where he was staying.
He climbed into his silver car, then began to drive away.

As he arrived, Sarah too, had pulled into the car park.
"What are you doing here, Mr Rage?"
Warren shrugged his shoulders. "I am here to find the real killer. What are you planning to do?"
Sarah sighed. "All right. Follow me, but don't say a word. You're only observing."
Warren grinned and followed the officer into the building, pressing his tongue into his right cheek.
"I wont say a word, yet." he smiled.
Sarah rolled her eyes. It was going to be a long day.

They looked up at the large building.
The grey cobbled stone wall looked grainy and old.
It loomed above them, towering over the smaller buildings.
"What floor is it on?" Sarah asked, slightly anxious.
"Right at the very top," Warren murmered.
They glanced at each other with pale faces.
"You are kidding me," she scorned.
Warren shook his head as he approached the building, holding the door open for her.
Her face paler than it was, she stepped through the doors.
"Thank you," she muttered.
Warren payed no attention to the guards that stood in the corners of the lobby.
Sarah, though, flashed her police badge as she passed them.
The elevator door opened noisily, waiting to take them up to the twenty seventh floor.
"Twenty seven floors? Are you sure he is at the very top?"
Warren nodded, mute for a moment. "Yes, I am sure. I copied the address down from the calandar."
Sarah frowned, "What calandar?"
The bounty hunter rolled his eyes. "I copied the address from the calandar whilst I was waiting for you to arrive, back at the crime scene."
Sarah gasped, looking outraged and horrified. Her eyes went wide, as her jaw dropped for a moment.
"You wasn't suppose to touch anything. It'd compromise the evidence, you fool!"
Warren Rage gritted his teeth as his eyes narrowed, glaring at her.
"Don't get your suspenders in a twist. I didn't touch anything, I am not stupid. It was hanging on the wall. I used my mobile to copy it."
Sarah cringed, biting her lip. "Oh," she muttered. "Sorry. I - "
Warren shook his head angrily. "You're sorry? You honestly think that I would go around touching everything in a crime scene?"
He bit back his words, muttering bitterly. "Yet, you call me the fool."

The elevator lift halted to a stop as they finally reached the top floor.
Warren peered through the window beside the doors. "Wow. We are really really high up," he mumbled.
Sarah shook her head, "Thanks for the reminder," she groaned.
Opposite the lift doors was another door. It was closed, with a sign on the door. "Carl Laminate" was printed with gold lettering on the plain black sign across the door.

"Carl. I would like to talk to you about George Groundsman's manuscript. Have you seen it? We think the manuscript may have been stolen," Sarah chided.
Carl smiled, "Of course I have seen it. I am his publisher. Stolen? Are you sure?"
The woman nodded, as she watched the publisher frown.
"Well then, it's a good thing that George sent me a copy. He pays us a lot of money to publish his work, so we make sure that he himself keeps the origional and sends us the copy. That way, if the work gets lost or ruined, we can be sent another copy right away."
Warren raises an eye brow, "You have a copy of the work? When did he finish the editing?"
Carl cleared his throat. "I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"
Sarah rolled her eyes, "We can't. He's dead."
"He's dead? That's terrible!" he gasped.
The man sat back in his large black leather chair.
"Do you know anyone who would want to kill him?" Sarah asked.
The man shrugged, "Maybe his wife did it? He was having an affair after all."
Sarah nodded, "That much is true."
The publisher smiled, "He is a bit of a ladies man, really. Well, he was until his wife caught him at it."
He paused for a moment. "What about the woman he was having the affair with? Oh, what's her name? Oh- that's right. I remember.
Her name was cynthia. Cynthia Grace. Lovely woman, pretty little thing she is."
Sarah wrote the name in a small black book. "You know where she lives?"
The man shook his head. "No. But there have been certain rumours that he has been seen going to the Flagstone hotel. Maybe they can tell you, I mean, they have some record don't they, so they know who to bill, and where to send the bills to?"
Sarah smiled, "Flagstone hotel? All right, I will check it out. Thank you Carl, for your time."
The man rose from his seat and followed them to the door with a small smile on his face.
"If any of you want to go into publishing, please, give me a call."
Warren chuckled, "He gives his sales pitch after hearing his client is dead. Doesn't that seem odd to you?"
Sarah shook her head. "No. Not odd at all, though it was insensitive. Being a jerk isn't against the law though."
Warren sighed, she was right.
They walked into the elevator and went back down towards the ground floor.
They stepped outside onto the cobbled stone pavement. Warren looked up at the building as the company loomed above them.
"I don't trust him," Warren muttered.
Sarahh rolled her eyes, "I don't either but it doesn't mean he is guilty of any crime, or even murder."
Warren grunted, frowning at her. She sighed, vaguarly noticing his crows feet at the corner of his eyes.
"I will do a background check on him when we get back to the station," she said tiredly.
"That's all I ask of you," he replied.
Sarah chuckled to herself, "You aren't suppose to ask me to do anything. I am sure she is guilty, I just want to convince you that I know what I am doing."
Warren shrugged, "I'm sure you know what you're doing most of the time."
Sarah shook her head, there was no convincing this man.
"I have been doing this for ten years, I know what I am doing."
The bounty hunter grimanced, "You've been accusing innocent people of murder for ten years or you have been a detective for ten years?"
"I have been a detective for ten years, and I put away the people that evidence says who is guilty."
Warren sblack personed, "So what evidence do you have against Nadine, other than she is his wife?"
The woman smiled smugly, "The letter pinned to the wall. She also has motive."
Warren shook his head. "What about Carl? He has motive too. Greed. He also knows about the husband cheating, and he has a copy of George's manuscript. According to the wife, he hadn't finished editing that yet. What if the manuscript is the origional? We only found the last page, where is the rest of it?"
Sarah sighed, "Maybe it is the origional. Maybe George had finished editing the novel and sent it to be published, and simply dropped the last page?"
Warren fell silent. She had a good point.
"How did he send it? The post takes a few days to arrive. He would have had to send it before he was killed but the wife says it was there the night she left after finding her husband with another woman."
Sarah smiled, "Then, lets go and find this woman he has been seeing. He might have mentioned his manuscript to her."
There was only one problem, a large problem. "How are we going to find this blonde woman? We don't even know her name."
"Easy, we go to the hotel. They might have paid by credit card."
Warren nodded, "That’s a good idea, they might have been going to the same hotel regulary."
"Lets go to Flagstone Hotel then. Maybe she has motive too. She might have killed her lover to stop him from leaving her to stay with his wife."
Warren thought in silence for a moment. The manuscript being sent to the publisher was still questionable.