HM Mafia Lynch #5: Breaking News
Aniyah had managed to escape the confines of the house for a moment. Although the manor grounds didn't seem pleasant, she thought the fresh air could do her some good; after all, during all her years as a journalist, she hadn't come across anything quite like this.
It is too bad she hadn't gotten a chance to get this story, instead of being a part of it, she thought. It would have brought a fortune. She might have gotten a cover artical in the Times.
Sighing, she came back to the grim reality she probably wasn't going to live through the night. Already she could see the faint glow of morning on the horizon. But it didn't warm her heart at all. It seemed a lie, a farce, some trick. She wouldn't believe it. The reporter had heard the accusations. The expected the mob would be coming out soon. She wondered how she would go; she hoped it was painless, but was doubted the truth in those thoughts.
She clicked on the recorder she held for field work and began to speak into the microphone.
"This is Aniyah Le'Marou, freelance journalist. I was recently invited to the manor where I am now. Lucrative rewards for a seemingly straightfoward task lured me. My decision was wrong and I will pay for it dearly. If anyone hears this recording, I am dead, killed by the others invited here."
She paused, pondering what to say next. She never had been good at endings, she never felt she could sum things up quite the way she needed to when writing. It didn't seem odd that she couldn't think of one now. This was the biggest ending of all, wasn't it?
"There she is!" called a voice. Louder, "I've found her!"
Aniyah seemed slightly surprised at how quickly the group had assembled and how few people were actually left.
Panting, the crowd slowed as they neared. All pretenses and deceptions dropped they got straight to business.
"You are guilty of terrible things. You must be held accountable."
"Make this easier on yourself."
She didn't mean to back away, she wanted to be strong, but she found herself pinned to a wall. Looking around, she realized she was by a garage, seperated from the rest of the house.
"Your actions will eventually incriminate you, of that, I am sure," she said. Her voice shook, but all in all, she was impressed. At least she went out with some dignity, she thought. More dignity then those closing in, lawn tools and other makeshift weapons poised to strike.
Her blood spattered the side of the garage, staining the white walls and glass windows. Again and again, red lines, telling of evil deeds, smeared the building. Her recorder finally slid from her hand, clattering against the ground; the story of Aniyah Le'Marou had come to an end.
The crowd was surpised by the sudden appearance of the lawyer. Glancing at the still warm corpse on the ground, he made a show of pulling out some papers and holding to the moon light.
"Looks like I was a bit careless," the man said without introduction. "I didn't specify anything regarding the," he paused saying more with silence then with words, "untimely death of a guest of the manor." He shrugged and turned.
"Please, follow me back inside, it is a bit chilly out here, and it is almost morning, I will need to account for who is still here soon, and it will be easier if I don't have to go running about the whole place searching for the truth of where you are."
Minutes later, as the group neared the dining room, clocks called out the new hour. Another hour, another corpse.