The sky, bleeding and crying released it mourning upon the metropolis called Toronto. A pair of eyes eagerly peered through the door of a rotten, monster like house. The green emerald eyes flowed to a pale white faced lined by cascading black hair. Navy cotton covered the broad figure of the corrupt engineer. Night set on the busy city and action slowly began to die down. A grimy, bloodstained boot emerged from the doorway fallowed by a torn pant leg and the soul of a guilty man.
The telephone rang and the officers jerked; on almost falling from his seat. Again it rang. Piercing, irritating, nerve raking, it rang.
“A woman, on Fifth Street,: he announced, “ Mrs. Parkenson.” He stuttered, “It’s a knife wound to the neck,” Silence fell on the room, “we need you there immediately!”
He ran to Detective Randall’s room blurting “Mrs. Parkenson She’s Been murdered!,” Spinning around in his chair Randall got up, “Fassad, Where has this happened?”, “Fifth street.”
Bolting out of his room Randall headed to Fifth Street. Fassad like a slug took his time to get to the car.
While Driving to Fifth Street Fassad noticed two people one giving money to the other. Still driving to Fifth Street he couldn’t stop. When he got to Fifth Street he noticed Randall investigating the surrounding with a giant magnifying glass. Blood was scattered everywhere, on the walls and the boxes. The boxes they were all over the place. Randall hesitantly opened one of them up. It was full of Christmas ornaments. He opened the next one still full of Christmas ornaments.
“What was she doing with theses ornaments it’s the middle of May.”
Quickly searching the boxes one more time Randall pulled out a note. 7:10 be there from your mom Fassad quivering wonder what the note meant.