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domingo, 12 de julho de 2015

A SINGULAR DETAIL IN THE GARDEN

A SINGULAR DETAIL IN THE GARDEN


A SINGULAR DETAIL IN THE GARDEN
 Röhrig C.
Pelotas/2015







John and Brenda Koldowsky lived in a beautiful wooden house. Up the street. Almost at the feet of the hill. It was a strong walking uphill difficult to access. Three houses down lived a retired professor Ralph Bradwin.
At the time I was the detective Raymond Chester Jr. And I had an office in the center of the quiet town of Pulp Pulp.
Both Koldowsky family and the professor were my long-standing acquaintances. Furthermore that was one of the biggest cases of my career as a detective in that place, connecting the two residences. And a lady who was passing through town. Her name was Pamela Himes.
The famous disappearance of Edgar.
For a quiet town where nothing ever happened that was a great tragedy.
Mainly because he was too young. Edgar had been adopted by Koldowsky family. They liked to call him "Junior."
And that's how it all started.
The next day after the storm, the phone rang.
I answered.
- Hello - I said.
- Detective Raymond Chester Jr.? -  asked a female voice.
- Yes, speaking – I Said – Who is talking?
- It’s Brenda Koldowsky.
- How can I help you Mrs. Koldwsky?
- Junior has disappeared!
- Has he really disappeared? Have you already searched around the neighborhood?
- Yes, sure! You need to come. It's urgent! Our Junior disappeared.
- Calm down lady, I'm on my way.
- We're desperate! You need to come soon.
She hung the phone up.
It appeared to be very serious. I hung the phone up; I grabbed my coat and my detective hat. And moved toward the Koldwskys’ house.
Five blocks walking through the mud and debris that the storm had spread. Fallen trees in the street, tiles, pieces of windows, boards, a headless teddy bear. It looked like the scene of a war zone. People over the roofs of houses. Stretching tarps to protect themselves. It was very sad.

A lady was coming down the street toward me; she looked worried and too hasty. She passed me and bumped into my shoulder. Almost knocked me down, and continued down toward the center. I stared at her as she continued walking. That lady was an outsider; I had never seen her before. My detective instinct said that there could be something related to the case.
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Copyright © 2015 by Röhrig C.
Copyright  desta edição © 2015 by Röhrig C.
Todos direitos reservados.
 Translation:  Danusa Goulart 


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