Prompt : A detective wakes up with no memory of the previous day and finds a murder weapon in their home.

I woke up with a start. What the heck was that? The noise felt like a red hot piece of metal was being drilled into my head. Why did people have to make such a racket in the middle of the night! Was a peaceful night’s sleep too much for a man to ask?

There it was. That sound again. Too bloody loud and sending shockwaves through my poor head. But…Wait a minute. That sounded like my door bell. Hmm… I never knew it was this loud. Who was at my door at this unearthly hour? Ouch! There it goes again. Stop leaning on that bell, damn you! Go away! Can’t you let a man get some well deserved rest? I had worked so hard yesterday to finally uncover the….

I sat up suddenly … or tried to. But the pounding inside my head was too much and I dropped back, wincing as my head hit the pillow. My eyes were also hurting from the bright light streaming into my room through the open curtains. What the f! This was not midnight, like I imagined, but more like midday. At what unearthly hour had I turned in last night?

Now that I was awake I wondered who could be at the front door and what the urgency was. Carefully I sat up, not that it deterred the fella pounding away inside my head. Apparently it was his life’s aim to keep me in bed. Sigh. Nothing I would have liked better. But I had to find out who was at the door. As of on cue, the bell rang again sending the pounding to a crescendo. I gritted my teeth. When it all subsided I realised someone was now banging on my door.

“I am coming!” I shouted, annoyed.

My voice sounded more like a croak to my ears than a shout. Gawd! What had I downed last night? More importantly, how many of them? The little fella upstairs seemed to be busy. My head felt like a lot of fiery hot screws were being driven into it simultaneously, and my throat felt parched.

Thankfully, the banging on the front door had stopped. I slowly walked to the window and peered down on to the driveway. There was a police jeep and a van out front and at least a dozen policemen milling around my front door. What the f* was happening? Was this a dream? Maybe I was still sleeping.

There was the DSP – new young chap, I didn’t know him – leaning against the jeep and giving out orders. I could tell that he was telling the constables to surround the house. Had some fugitive from the law broken into my house seeking shelter in the night? What irony if he had! I smiled wryly, turning towards the door and stopped short. There was a blood encrusted cricket bat lying on the floor beside my bed. F* f* f*! This was not good. Not good at all.

From the cloudy recesses of my mind came the memory about what the coroner’s report had suggested. The murder on third street, of the bookmaker, had been committed using a cricket bat. Not surprisingly, it was missing from the scene of the crime. Faintly I recalled being out looking for clues in the man’s quarters in the shady part of town. What had happened after that? Damned if I knew. I drew a blank.

Suddenly I heard a crash. There goes my front door, I thought bitterly to myself though the door should have been the least of my worries just then. Within seconds, they were teeming inside.

“Got it, sir!” I heard a voice say in triumph.

I saw the young policeman bag the cricket bat carefully. He looked back at me with pity. How the mighty fall, was written on his face as he walked past. Senior detective, good at his job. Nay, excellent. But also addicted to gambling and drinking. My weaknesses were widely known in the forces. I was tolerated only for my brilliance in solving crimes.

Not anymore.

I heard someone reading me my rights while handcuffing me. I could clearly see the headlines in the morrow’s papers. Drunk Cop Addicted to Gambling Arrested For Murder of a Bookie. The constable shoved me roughly from behind. “Get going!” he said shortly. The mighty had indeed fallen.

©️ Shail Mohan 2024

This was written for the RedPen Society writing exercise in June.