Elizabeth opened her eyes as the bright morning sun shone through the curtains. She squeezed her eyes shut. The light was too bright, and it was far too early. A sharp pain shot through her skull. That was the price for last night’s drinking. She opened her eyes again and blinked as the room came into view. Elizabeth gripped her forehead as she recognised her surroundings.
I don’t remember falling asleep here.
Elizabeth threw her legs off the couch and dragged her weary body to her feet. As she shuffled through the living room, she stepped into a pool of liquid. It ran through her toes and seeped into her pantyhose. As she staggered across the living room, Elizabeth tripped over a heavy object. Reaching out, she steadied herself with the aid of her entertainment unit. She looked down to find her assistant, Pippa Baker, lying face down in a pool of what she could only assume was Pippa’s blood.
Her body clenched as a rock formed in the pit of her stomach.
What happened last night?
She looked at her bloodstained pantyhose and tried to recall the events from the previous night, which was a blur. She remembered struggling to open the door of the taxi and staggering inside, but after that, everything was a little hazy. Her memory had large gaps.
Who would do this to Pippa? What was she doing here?
Elizabeth stared at Pippa’s body, then she remembered. She whirled around and sprinted down the short hallway, then took a right turn into her office. It was just as she had expected.
A glass case was resting on her white bookshelves, just as it had every day since she’d moved it into her home. But this time, it was empty.
My career is over.
The artefact was never supposed to leave the museum, but she was addicted to her work and broke the rules and brought it home for research. Now, she would pay the price. As she contemplated the repercussions of the events that had unfolded in her house, tears streamed down her cheeks.
Then another realisation struck her, this one far worse than the first.
I have no memory of, or alibi for, anything that unfolded after dinner.
She gasped as she recalled a moment from earlier that day.
Could I have done this? What did I do with the sword? Did I take it to London?
Tears streamed down her face as she hobbled towards her desk and sat down. For the second time in three years, life as she knew it was over. Through her sea of tears, Elizabeth saw a small, beige tag lying on the floor with a catalogue number written on it. She reached over, picked it up, and slipped it into her pocket.
Elizabeth trekked back to the living room. It was time to call the police. The longer she waited, the more suspicious she would appear, and that was the last thing she needed on top of her workload.
With a sigh, Elizabeth gazed at Pippa’s lifeless body. Why can’t I remember anything? I need to stop drinking like this. Then she realised there was a call that she needed to make first. Scrolling through her contacts, Elizabeth winced as a name flashed across the screen. She had to tell him. Striking the screen with her index finger, Elizabeth listened to the dial tone as she braced herself for the inevitable fallout.
‘Hello,’ a refined English accent said on the other end of the line.
‘It’s happened, again.’
‘What did you do this time?’
Elizabeth’s posture stiffened. ‘I, I—’
‘If you don’t tell me, I can’t help you.’
‘Pippa is dead,’ Elizabeth sobbed.
‘What?’
‘I found her on my living room floor when I woke up. I can’t remember how I got home. But I made a call to Pippa last night.’ Elizabeth continued to sob.
‘Yesterday, you were at her throat. I thought you were going to leap across the table and strangle her. And you have been known to get violent when you’re drunk.’
Her chest tightened. ‘I have a DUI, and then there’s the domestic violence report,’ Elizabeth said through a sea of tears. ‘I’m screwed.’
‘Nonsense, I’ll get you a good lawyer. And I won’t tell the police that you confessed. I’ll think of another reason you called. Let me think for a moment.’
‘There’s one more thing.’
‘It better not be another body.’
‘It’s missing. I took it home from work.’
‘Oh, shit.’
Elizabeth’s hands trembled. ‘I’m going to be the first person the police suspect. They’ll take one look at my record; I’ll be under suspicion after that.’
‘What about the murder weapon?’
She peered down at Pippa’s body. ‘It’s not here. I think she’s been stabbed.’
‘Touch nothing. Call the police, but don’t mention the arguments you’ve been having. Just mention that you’re shocked that she was even in your apartment.’
As Elizabeth opened her mouth, a dial tone screeched from her phone. Where’s the murder weapon? Turning around, she dashed down the hall. As she reached the front door, she glanced to her right. Sitting in the middle of the kitchen bench was a knife block set with a missing knife. I’m screwed.