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Freeman's Front Porch Musings

My website to showcase my creative writings-such as they are.

The Murder Business…new writing, unedited and incomplete…

Tiffany Watkins woke up chained to a damp wall. The room was not well lit, it reeked of mildew. Her arms were chained above her head. She heard the scurrying of tiny feet. Tiffany’s vision was blocked by a blindfold.

“Oh God,” she whimpered. Heavy footsteps approached her; a loud metallic sound drew near. She couldn’t tell if the person was dragging a chair or a pipe. Fear clutched her throat and refused to loosen its grip.

“Ms. Watkins, I have some questions for you.” Tiffany whimpered as rough hands lifted the blindfold from her eyes.

A brilliant light filled the room when the blindfold was lifted. Tiffany closed her eyes tight and tried to duck her head. Sharp prongs jabbed into her skin. Whoever had taken her had placed a spiked dog collar on her.

Any hope that she could escape dissipated into vapor like the steam from the pipes in her prison.

Monday, 1000 hours:

Lilly Thompson sat at her desk and studied the cold file in her hands. The decrease in murder had brought an opportunity to visit some of the ‘unsolved’ cases that resided in the Records Room. The phone on her desk rang. She reached for the phone with one hand and continued to read.


“Come in my office,” Tia Mathers said. “Bring your partner with you.” Lilly put the phone down and looked across the desk.

“Come on,” she said. “Something is going on.”

Konan stood and followed Lilly. He trailed behind her, his nose still in the cold file. Lilly took it from his hands and shut it.

“Pay attention, Konan. This could be important.”

“Sure, it is.”

Lilly opened the door and the pair of homicide detectives walked in. Tia Mathers sat behind her desk. A middle-aged woman sat in a chair in front of her. Tia waved them in. One chair was available. Konan went and leaned against the wall, while Lilly sat next to the woman.

“What’s going on, “Lilly asked.

Tia motioned to the woman that sat beside Lilly. “This lady is Judge Patty Traylor. She has not heard from her clerk since close of business Friday.”

“So,” Konan said. “It’s ten o’clock on a Monday. Maybe she had a wild weekend.”

“It’s more than that,” Judge Traylor said. Tia motioned for Konan to step forward. Lilly leaned toward the desk. Tia spread photos across the desk.

The photographs showed Tiffany Watkins partying, and then in various stages of undress. The last few were of the young woman chained to a wall, wearing a spiked collar, and bleeding from various injuries on her face.

A message had been sent to Judge Traylor, along with the photographs, it simply said: Confess.

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About Me

I’m a retired soldier. Writer and full – time coffee addict. I was born and raised in Mississippi, and I joined the Army at 28 for a life of adventure and travel. Interests include: Reading, walking my two pups, Casanova and Chunk, spending time with my wife Chassidy, and trying to pen the next great American novel. I am on Instagram under Freeman’s Front Porch Musings. I sometimes do Twitter under LarryF7371.


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