"And that's why I know you're the killer!" concluded Xavier confidently.

Everybody in the drawing room gasped and stared at me. Their eyes were accusing, condemning, afraid but ready to fight. I felt like a tiger loosed amongst them.

Like a tiger, I wanted to roar, to lash out, to flee. But I was no mere beast. I was Archibald Darius Rucker, and nobody got the better of Archie, not an overpriced whore like dear departed Rebecca and not a so-called master detective like Xavier Black.

He was right about me, unfortunately. Every circumstance he described occured as he deduced. He wasn't exactly correct about everything my motives, but close enough to be damning. That wasn't good.

However, as my dad used to say, close only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades. Decades of doing business in the most cutthroat markets of the world inured me to the most righteous activist protestor and corrupt bureaucrat alike.

I needed time. I had time. More importantly, I had money. And with that came the best damn lawyer alive.

So I sighed and shook my head ruefully, hiding my smile. "Wonderful performance. Tell me, how often have you rehearsed?" I asked, unable to resist taking a jab at me adversary.

"When you speak the truth, no rehearsal is necessary," Xavier asserted righteously.

"I know many people who would disagree, Mr. Black. Yvonne, you would need time to disclose exactly how you concluded the Morrison merger, wouldn't you? Not because it was dishonest, merely because it was complex. And Mark, you and I both know you wife believed you cheated, but convincing her that we really had been working late couldn't have been easy, no?"

I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure they'd agree with me. And as they did, the audience started looking unsure. I pressed my advantage. "Indeed, Mr. Black, human beings believe they're characters in a story and expect certain story beats. It's why a story like yours sounds believable. But that isn't how justice works. You need proof. Real, concrete proof. And where there's doubt, people aren't thrown in jail, no matter what convincing fable you tell."

"Your speech flowed pretty easily yourself," Xavier retorted. "Haven't you prepared for this moment?"

I laughed. "In a sense, perhaps. If you'd check my interview with the Economist, you'd see I said the same sort of thing before."

"This nonsense doesn't bring Rebecca back!" he declared.

"No. It doesn't. My dear guests, I'm very sorry to have to trouble you with all this," I said, slowly reaching into my jacket with a smile.

Xavier pounced, tackling me to the ground and punching me. I wasn't used to being hit and saw red, but he was younger and stronger than me. I didn't fight back as he subdued me, but when Xavier searched me, all he found was a pen and notepad. He let go, confusedly muttering, "I was sure he had a gun."

I dusted myself off and stroked my bruised jaw. "You hit me, you asshole! Everybody saw that! Everyone here will be a witness not only about this assault, but the heinous slander this madman spread! Mr. Black, get the hell out of my house! You'll be hearing from my lawyer!" I finally roared.

[removed]

Miles sat back and sipped his drink. Ah... this was the life... and yet he wasn't happy quite yet not really. Helena had cost him something far too valuable...the world far too valuable.

That Foghorn Leghorn wannabe was still out there, but there was nothing he could do against the actual police force. The investigation quickly proved him (at least, in the destruction of the Glass Onion and the Mona Lisa) as a victim. his 'friends' (the backstabbing bastards that they were) quickly betrayed one another after their supposed little pact there in the ruins; Helen tried to kill them too, after all and clearing their names from both a murder of someone too stupid to set up a twitch channel and the destruction of a work of art was... poetry.

Miles would admit, privately that mister Southern-fired asshat was smarter than he was... but you didn't need brains to win, just a cool head and a good lawyer. The Insurance on the Glass Onion alone made back his fortune, as did Helena\'s sudden bad press, and now with Klear in the clear, his future was set.

He decided to Fax the Great Defective with one last thank you, just a glass onion with Mile's face there in the center. He wasn't smart; he was petty though, and he had won.

“I believe all evidence is stacked up on you now.” Marco says as the room goes into discussion. “Quite the accusation but let’s look at the evidence sha’ll we?” my lawyer replies. “9:47pm, the murder took hold, my client was at grocery store which is 200 meters aways and he had entered 8:52pm, I have the security footage here so that’s already one major hole in your story.” “Hm…” Marco starts to think.

I cover my smile, knowing full well that my plan is working. My dear lawyer is the best one however, he is one of my own men and that’s a secret that will never be shown. I’m the one who killed the lady but it was due to a slow working poison that was put in days before. Created by myself to be untraceable. The knife was thrown fifty meters away in a blind spot when she was in an area where there were no cameras and it wasn’t far from the grocery store…

“The witness was standing in an area 30 meters away when it took hold, the area they were in was too dark for them to see anything so you can’t trust their claims.” my lawyer continues. “All your evidence is solely reliant on claims and rushed dna tests, therefore making it invalid so unless you have full concrete evidence that cannot be stood against, avoid such a story that has holes.”

I just adore the power I have being converted into words here.

Mr White had already made a mistake. It was right there, in his book even, he writes there are 3 kinds of criminal. When caught a criminal will either confess, attempt to kill him, or very rarely commit suicide. That, is where Mr White is wrong, I think to myself sitting comfortably in my mansion as I sip my wine and down a painkiller.

I am what some would call a criminal, but I view myself more of an opportunist. Mr White took down the previous drugs ring and there was simply a gap in the market you see. And I was careful and calculated, always keeping myself distant. No direct links, no direct evidence, always at least one trusted middle man.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before that mastermind pieced together the puzzle and there was a ring on my doorbell.

"Ah, Mr White, what a pleasant surprise, please come in, please, have a seat" I say guiding him to a leather sofa.

"Mr Black, let's not play games here, I know it's you" he replies as he sits.

"Oh please, I'd love to hear how you solved yet another case!" I reply.

And so Mr White starts his long monologue, filled with pride, smug smile on his face, that won't last long.

"... and that's what lead me here" he finally finishes.

I do a slow clap with my hands.

"and you think any of this will stand up in court?" I have the best defence lawyer in the country. You will need to add a fourth type to your book" I reply with a grin.

"well..." he says, pouring two beers. "it'll be a good excuse for a second edition" he replies, sitting and passing me one of the beers.

"ah! a bit money motivated! I knew it!" I reply.

"You know what? Before the court battle, let's enjoy the evening. I spend so much time with boring simpletons, I'd love to discuss things with a fellow mastermind" he replies.

Of course, I accept. We spend the evening discussing past cases, downing drink after drink, talking philosophy and whatnot.

"Allow me a brief trip to the gents" I say, standing unstably.

"You know... that sexy barmaid, she taught me how to make a cocktail called the bloody murder, shall I shake us up two?" Mr White asks, starting to slur his words.

"Good luck with those shaky hands!" I reply looking at his hands shake in his tell-tale white gloves, as I excuse myself.

When I arrive our cocktails are at opposite sides of the chess table.

"I guess you'll play White?" I ask with a grin and smile.

"Actually..." he says, rotating the board "let's turn the tables" he replies.

"Time to see who is truly the greatest mastermind" I state, pushing a pawn two spaces forward.

"I think you'd make a great criminal" I say sometime later as he ruthlessly takes another of my pieces. I respond with a revenge capture.

"You know, I do have a bit of a confession..." he starts.

"Oh, go on!" I say excited.

"Sometimes I think about how I could kill people and get away with it. For example if someone was an alcoholic and took pain meds, I could encourage them to drink excessively and then mix all their pain meds into a deadly cocktail. 56 minutes later, their heart suddenly fails and the police rule deliberate overdose." he replies.

"Ah, fascinating! I knew you had it in you Mr White!" I reply.

"Checkmate" he states positioning his protected queen next my king.

"well played, well I guess we call it a night here" I state.

"56 minutes" he replies, looking pointedly at his watch, my empty cocktail and then me.

My eyes open wide and suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my chest. I step towards my phone, but fall to the ground.

"Three types" Mr white sternly states as my vision fades to black.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See Reality Fiction and Simple Prompts for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]