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The Murder

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29.01.2013 | Marina Orlovskaya

Private detective Alex Zorman looked at the clock in his office. It was exactly 19.00. It was getting dark outside and the rain had just started. He took an umbrella, which had been standing in the corner, picked up the key to his BMW from the table, the cell phone, a pen and the notebook with records. Then the detective closed his office and walked down the hall to the elevator. Having pressed the button of the elevator, Zorman was drilling his shoes with his eyes – he was thinking. He thought about a strange call. An hour before a man had called from an unknown number and asked for an urgent meeting. Alex had set up a meeting at 19.10 in the parking near his car. When the elevator door opened, Alex saw a puddle of blood was spreading over the floor, it was getting closer and closer to his new suede shoes.

He jumped back and looked inside. The body of a man was lying on the floor. His hand pressed his throat, as if he wanted to fix his tie, but instead of a tie the blood was flowing on his shirt, running down on the jacket and on his pants. Zorman took his cell phone and called 911. Then, intuitively, he dialed the stranger’s number and brought the phone to his ear. He heard the beeps and at the same time the standard Nokia ringtone rang in the pocket of the stranger. "This is him" -lightning of thought flashed in his head, "an hour ago, he was still alive and talked on the phone with me." Alex rushed into the elevator and pressed the first floor button while the cab was coming down, he searched the body. He found little: a box of matches, Camel, keys and a phone. The detective looked through the last dialed numbers. "Let's see, there is one missing call on my mobile phone at 19.05, he tried to call me at 18-00, but at the 17-55 there is one incoming call from someone called William ... well, you see William scared this poor man to death" - grimly joked to himself inspector. These were all that day’s calls.

"The ground floor" - said an artificial female voice and the elevator door opened. "Thank God, nobody’s here" - thought Zorman - "I don’t want any women’s shrieking or panicking”. Having found nothing to prop the elevator door up, Alex took the body's legs and pulled halfway out of the elevator. ”There is no blood anywhere on the ground floor," - noted the professional look of the detective. “It means he was stabbed inside the elevator”. Having stepped over the body, he went towards the security room. "Everything is straightforward and clear - Alex supposed, - Just watch the video from surveillance cameras, one of the cameras was right in front of the lift". At that time there were oncoming and increasing sirens of 911 from outside. "Well done" - detective smiled thinking about the services of 9111 and looked inside of the security room. It was empty. "And these guys do not work, especially when they have to" - thought the detective. He sat down at the table in front of the security guard monitors. Having switched the monitor of the right camera on, he pressed the rewinding button, took a cigarette out of the pack, smoked and picked the ashtray which had always been at the security gourds desk. Having looked at it, Alex saw the engraving: “To William from Inga”. Zorman took the badge with his two fingers, he read: security - William Milington ...

The elevator door breached silence of this crazy night. It could not close for obvious reasons.