C'est le Loup-Garou
Posted August 28th, 2009 by Melissa
August 28th, 2009
"Le fini... c'est etroit que cela l'air."
There was only one clue at the scene of the crime. One simple clue. Several words etched by a pocket knife into the soft wood of the living room halls. Most of the home had burned, but the words had been severed. Translators, of Italian, French, and Spanish origins, were quickly called. The translator of French color was most useful.
Directly translated, the note read, "The end... it is closer than it seems."
The information the police had behind the crime was not sufficient. It was a terrible crime indeed; the thief behind it was a genius, with nothing less than top-notch experience. The house was in a heavy heap. Arson, manslaughter, and much more than that seemed to all tie together to form the most questioned murder case of the decade.
Yes, it was a murder case. There was blood all over the house; blood, and marks of flame. It was a complete wreck. The roof had caved in on the third floor of the 19th century victorian home; the staircase had collapsed, and nearly all the walls were past repair. The house was absolutely destroyed.
There were no bullets. How could such a terrible crime be done without a single bullet? Perhaps it was a baseball bat.
The final, and most trivial part of the case... with so much blood, and with a murder case, where was the body?
The inspectors and investigators on scene could find no evidence of a corpse of any sort. There was no source for the relentless splatter of blood all over the walls and floors. There were no footprints, there was hardly anything that would have consituted an escape route. It became difficult to travel through the house. It was continuing to dismantel, mostly in a domino effect.
One shingle would fall into the second floor's main hallway. The hallway would creak and start to break. Under pressure, it would collapse. One more part of the house would be impossible to scope out. It grew increasingly harder to find anything that would help the case.
The most awkward part, aside from the words on the wall and a missing corpse, was the fact that there were very strange decorations about the house. Odd, foreign paintings and figures of golden wolves were everywhere. In every room, there was a small golden wolf. Sitting on its haunches, in a howling position, it appeared to be pointing up at the moon.
Every time a golden wolf was found, it was in the moonlight.
Investigators began to lose hope. There was simply no trace to this endless crime. Who would dare do something so terrible? Who lived here? No one really knew. It was apparently unoccupied, but... well, it wasn't unoccupied, and it was too late to realize that. It would take days to unravel the mystery.
Just outside the home, on a hill overlooking the house, two figures were seated together. The older and taller of the two was holding a replica of a small golden wolf; the same kind that had been in the house. He turned to his younger friend, and grinned.
"You've done well. You now are free." he said, nodding.
"Thank you, sir."
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