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The First Impression

MUHAMMAD AAFAQ NABI

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 Table of Contents

Acknowledgements 4

Preface 5

Short Stories 9

Story I: The Coincidence 10

Story II: The Two Faces of Noah 49

Poems 64

Poem I: The Epiphany 65

Poem II: First Impressions 66

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 Acknowledgements

For giving me the chance to pursue such a

project, I owe many thanks to my
instructor, Ms. Shanzay Kamran. I would
like to thank her for giving me the
opportunity to write this book, and for her
support and guidance throughout this
project, despite the restrictions of the
pandemic. I would also like to thank my
family, for their constant encouragement
and for believing in me during the process
of the making of this novel.

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 Preface

The First Impression is a

collection of mystery short stories that
were an outcome of my Creative Writing
course. Through the years, however, I
have gained more and more interest in
how writers are able to allude and leave
readers puzzled through their story telling,
and once the opportunity arose, I decided
to try my hand at it as well. For giving me
the chance to pursue such a project, I owe
many thanks to my instructor, Ms.
Shanzay Kamran.
Murder mysteries have a way of
leaving me with feelings of excitement,
confusion and bewilderment. Usually, it
does not matter who the killer is, but the
way the writer may present the evidence
and the story to mess with the reader that
matters. A good murder mystery is able to
manipulate the readers, without them
knowing it. This is exactly what I intend to

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do with my short stories. I hope young
readers are able to savor the feeling of
suspense, and enjoy reading this novel as
much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Several masterful, suspenseful,
psychological thrillers have further
inspired me to create these stories. The
character of the detective in my first short
story is an amalgamation of some of the
most well known and most established
detectives and police officers in film and
in novels. I wanted to attempt creating a
suave, quick, but also snarky character, to
help highlight the stories main essence.
Mystery books, besides a great
detective, also include suspects. My first
story will also involve the way each
suspect holds up their account, and how
each attempts to absolve themselves of the
crime. This is to delude the reader even
more, and to add an extra dose of
suspension. I hope readers will be attempt,
on their own, to uncover who the killer is,
but that they find themselves more

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confused as they go along, unsure of who
is the possible killer. With the idea of first
impressions being important, I hope to
confuse readers further.
Similarly, the second short story
mentioned in this novel follows a different
approach, with more focus on a killer than
on someone attempting to solve a crime.
This is another topic of interest that I
wished to pursue for two reasons. One, it
was always fascinating to me to try to
figure out what may drive a serial killer to
kill, and how their mind works. Two, this
story would allow me to share a difference
perspective; the point of view of the
‘villain’ in comparison to the more
common story telling of the ‘good cop’.
This villain will be hiding under
an unnoticeable façade, which is why I
have given such an importance to the fact
that first impressions are crucial. To
amplify the theme of the book as a thriller,
the story will be slow paced. This is
because the characters of these short

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stories is meant to add into the general
mysterious and suspenseful theme of the
entire book. The way the stories will be
told, I hope to portray and evoke this very
theme.

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The First Impression

Short
Stories

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 Story I

THE COINCIDENCE

T he cold blowing wind, and the

dark, tumultuous, cloudy night that
encompassed the sky showed a
promise for rain. Earlier that night, a car
chase took place with the police in pursuit
of a man who was driving his Mercedes at
a speed above 140km/h. It seemed as
though something was out of order. In a
flash, the man lost the control of his car,
and crashed it. Out of the overturned car
came a wounded man who managed to do
so with the help of the people who
gathered around the scene of the accident.
Immediately after getting out, the man
heard police sirens in the near distance,
and so he shifted his feet to slowly begin
running. Despite the bloody injuries, the

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tall, raven haired, and blue eyed man
seemed to be from a good financial
standing. His well shaven face and black
suit indicated he was well off.
Police were still in pursuit when it
began to rain cats and dogs. The slight
pitter-patter had become a torrent of rain.
The uniform clad police men were
searching the area of the accident under
the assumption that the man was injured
and would never manage to go too far. A
group of police men arrived at a nearby
colony. The board outside of the entrance
read City Housing Society.
“Did you see anyone come this
way?” one of the police men yelled loudly
to the security guard at the entrance over
the noise of the heavy rain. “About 6 feet
tall, slightly handsome looking fella?” the
police man continued.
The guards denied seeing such a
man with the shake of the head. Just as the
police men were walking back to their car,
wet from head to toe due to the rain, ready

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to leave, a lady in her early thirties
approached the car and pleaded for help.
The two men rushed to follow her lead.
She led them to her apartment to show
them what the matter was and surely, they
found the man they were searching for.
But to their dismay, they also found a
warm, dead body in the apartment. The
police immediately arrested the man while
the young lady mourned over the body.
Her screams of despair confirmed the
deceased man was her husband.
The good-looking man the police
had arrested was a very famous British
novelist, Andrew D’Souza. He was being
charged for a double murder. The first of
his wife Katherine D’Souza, who was
found dead in their hotel room and the
second for the murder of Roger, whose
body was lying still in the midst of all the
rush.
Amongst the swarm of police
officers at the scene, is Detective Liam
Davis, a dark haired man with a well-kept

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brown and upturned moustache. He is a
sharp minded, cunning police detective
and a specialist in murder cases. He was
immediately called to the crime scene
because of his expertise. Upon reaching
the apartment, he examined the body and
the crime scene closely and was able to
come to a few deductions. He found the
murder weapon amongst all the mess – a
heavy, off-white, candle stick holder – and
blood samples on glass shards from the
broken coffee table. Apart from this, the
police found an assortment of burnt
photographs and papers in the dustbin
outside the apartment door, which
Detective Liam then had sent to the
forensic lab along with the blood samples.
After examining the scene, Liam
drove to the police station in the rain to
interview Andrew D’Souza and
investigate further on the case. Upon
reaching the police station, he was stopped
by the senior detective.

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 “Davis!” he said boldly, “You’ve
got three days to solve this thing.”
“But-” interjected Liam, but the
senior detective cut him off.
“I don’t want to hear it, Davis.
D’Souza’s a British citizen. You can’t
hold him for longer than that. He’s well
connected too. If it’s not done within three
days, the British government won’t let you
touch him.”
Liam knew he was right, and so he
took this challenge and felt a surge of
determination come over him. He needed
to find the truth behind these murders.
Andrew was sitting on a chair in
the interrogation room all alone, in a
shock. He was sniffling quietly, dry tear
stains on his cheeks. He had taken off his
shoes, and was rubbing his feet over his
socks, as the brown dress shoes were one
size too small. It seemed he was having
difficulty grappling with the drastic
change of events that had taken place in a
blink of the eye. Only yesterday, he was

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launching his third book, with his happy
wife and colleges, and now she was gone
and he was in a deep mess.
Detective Liam entered the room
and stood in front of Andrew, “I’m Liam.
Your case,” he paused, and pulled the
chair that stood opposite Andrew back,
before sitting on it. “Is under me.” Andrew
looked back up at the detective dumbly.
After more moments of silence he
said, “You’re a writer, aren’t you?” he
asked. Andrew only nodded in response,
too afraid to say anything. “Tell me a story
then. What happened last night?”
Andrew started by detailing that
on the night of the 23rd of April, there was
an event being held for his book launch in
Hotel Marriot. Katherine, his wife, had
flown all the way from London to attend
the event to support him as a spouse and as
the CEO of the publishing company.
According to Andrew, since Katherine
was tired due to the long trip, she’d
decided not to attend the book launch and

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to spend her time at the hotel instead.
After attending the book launch solo,
Andrew came back to their hotel room
early, only to find his wife’s pale, lifeless
body in the washroom, surrounded by a
pool of her stark, red blood.
Detective Liam cut Andrew off in
between his retelling to ask, “Why did
your wife skip the launch if she had
travelled all this way for specifically that
reason?” It was a valid question. It didn’t
make sense for her to not attend given the
importance of the event.
“Katherine had a minor heart
problem since her childhood. She was
fatigued due to the long flight. She even
took medicine for it, you can check.”
Andrew retorted.
The detective paused, and crossed
his arms around his chest. “Then what
happened?” he prompted.
Andrew continued to recount the
rest of the night. According to him, he
called the police after stumbling upon his

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wife’s dead body. After they arrived,
instead of providing an atmosphere of
comfort, the men were suspecting him and
taunting him as if he was the one who
killed his own wife. Due to their rude
banter, he was afraid of being unjustly
charged and considered running from the
hotel to be a safe option.
“If you ran because you were
scared,” Liam spoke slowly. “Why did
you kill Roger?”
“I didn’t kill him!” Andrew
exploded with fury and clenched his jaw.
After taking a moment to calm down, he
began to narrate exactly what happened
that night.
After escaping in his car and
crashing it, Andrew had severely wounded
himself just below his ribs. He got out of
his car and walked some distance on foot.
It felt as though if he made it any further,
it would faith. Unable to go farther, he
decided to ask for help. After stumbling
upon the closest society – in this case, City

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Housing Society – he climbed the stairs of
the first apartment building he saw to the
third floor, to an apartment whose lights
were on. He climbed the staircase slowly
and upon reaching saw that Sarah, Roger’s
wife, was outside the flat, disposing
something in the bin. He pleaded for help
but Sarah refused, attempting to close the
door on his face. With the little might he
had, Andrew pushed on the door and
insisted. Feeling guilty for him in his
injured state, she allowed him in, only to
make a phone call.
“The minute I entered I knew,”
Andrew explained, “Something was
extremely off about the whole thing.” The
entire apartment reeked of strange vibes.
He further detailed how Sarah had
locked the door of her bedroom from the
outside, which seemed very odd. The
coffee table in the living was broken when
he had entered, and he could spot blood
stains on the pieces of broken mirror of

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table. “Something had already happened
here, I could tell.” Andrew said.
Sarah brought the phone to
Andrew from her bedroom, and just as he
was about to dial for the ambulance, Sarah
saw on news that the police were on the
prowl, looking for an Andrew D’Souza, as
he was suspected of having killed his wife
and was now on the run. Sarah panicked
and asked Andrew to leave. Out of
desperation, Andrew tried to explain the
situation as best he could, but Sarah was
sceptical and backed away from where
Andrew was standing in her living room.
She grabbed a knife off the dining table,
which was lying next to some apples, and
pointed it towards the man who, now felt
like, had entered the apartment under false
pretences.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Sarah
and Andrew looked at each other in
confusion and fear, and then at the door.
Sarah continued to point the knife at
Andrew and directed him to stand off

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quietly on the side. “Don’t say a word.”
she ordered.
Upon opening the door, Sarah
released a sigh of relief. It was just the
maid. Sarah asked her to leave and come
back tomorrow, but the maid argued with
her. “Why aren’t you letting me in? Why
are you behaving this way?” the maid
asked. Sarah closed and locked the door
without answering her, and the maid left,
but her swearing and muttering echoed in
the halls.
Detective Liam listened to the
account and started to analyse in his mind
whether the story added up. He knew that
Andrew was a well-known, now three time
published, writer, which is why he was
hesitant in trusting his testimony straight
away. To confirm the details of the story,
he had to interview Sarah too.
He walked out the interrogation
room and met with his subordinate
outside. “Any information on Andrew?”
he asked. It was then revealed to the

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detective that another ongoing case was
charged against the world renowned
writer. The detective and the police man
walked across the busy station to where
Sarah was seated, and discussed the case
as they went.
“Detective, this case is about a girl
who committed suicide.” Liam stopped in
his tracks upon hearing this. “Her father
pressed charges against him.” Liam
nodded and thanked the police officer for
the information.
He continued his way towards
Sarah. After exchanging niceties and
apologising for her loss, the detective
asked her to explain what exactly
happened that day and to share her
account. She was a petite girl, with brown
hair that came up to her waist and big
green, seemingly innocent, eyes. She
started by stating she was alone at her
apartment as Roger usually returned late at
night from the office. “He was a lawyer,”
she said softly, “He had a heavy workload,

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and it meant he often had to work late. It
wasn’t unusual.”
Sarah shared her side of the story.
According to her, the bell rang, and she
opened the door. After looking around,
and not finding anyone, she turned to close
the door, but someone covered her mouth
from behind and overpowered her and
forcefully entered in the apartment. “Don’t
scream,” he whispered.
After wiggling free from
Andrew’s tight grip, she grabbed a knife
from the dining table and pointed it
towards Andrew. He was however, much
stronger than her, even when he was
injured, and so was able to overpower her
once again. “Who else is in the
apartment?” Andrew asked.
“I admit I lied,” said Sarah to
Detective Liam. “I told him my husband
was in the bedroom, so I could run there to
get my phone to call for help. But he was
too strong, and I was so scared,” her voice

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quivered. “We wrestled and fought for the
mobile phone, when the doorbell rang.”
Andrew stood behind the door and
threatened Sarah with the knife not to say
anything. Just as Andrew said, it was the
maid, who Sarah asked to leave. After
closing the door on her, Sarah saw the
news which declared Andrew was on the
run and was suspected of having killed of
his wife Katherine.
“I felt terrified. If a man could do
something as horrific as that to his own
wife, he wouldn’t possibly have any issue
doing it to a woman he barely knew.”
Sarah said to the detective.
Sarah continued with her account
to say she seized the small window
opportunity while Andrew was distracted
by the television and ran out of the flat.
However, after having reached the flight
of stairs, Andrew caught up to her and
brought her back to the apartment again.
“Detective Davis, sir,” Liam’s
subordinate cut off Sarah’s narration of the

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incident. “The father of the girl who
committed suicide, he’s here and he would
like to talk to you.” Detective Liam
nodded and asked Sarah to pause for just a
moment.
Outside the office, towards the
entrance of the station, patiently sat a
greying old man. “I’m Detective Liam
Davis,” he introduced himself, “I’m on the
D’Souza case. May I ask, why did you file
a case against him?” he questioned.
“My daughter, as you know,
detective, was gang raped a few years
before her death. Mr. D’Souza came to our
house before writing his second book. He
asked my daughter if she was okay with
him using her story for his book. He said it
would help other rape victims speak out,
and he promised to keep her identity
anonymous. That’s the only reason why
she agreed. But as soon as the book
launched, he leaked her identity,” the old
man spoke with a hint of rage, “All just to
make it more popular, more interesting.”

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He shook his head. “My daughter…” he
whispered, “She was a kind girl. But she
was depressed and shattered after having
to see herself everywhere in the media,
after what that sick man did. I don’t care if
your report rules it a suicide.” He was
crying now, “That man killed my
daughter. I know it.”
Detective Liam listened
attentively. It came as no shock as to why
she committed suicide. This was clearly
not a straight forward case. In order to
solve it in three days, it would require
crucial evaluation. Each and every fact
needed to be checked carefully, and twice.
There were three versions of that night;
Andrew’s version, Sarah’s version and the
truth. He had to find it as soon as he could.
The next day on the case,
Detective Liam went to where Andrew
was locked up to inquire further about the
night of the double murder. Andrew
continued his account where he had
stopped.

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 “After the maid left…” he started.
He had shared a moment with
Sarah, and he talked to her about losing his
wife and being framed in the murder. He
pleaded with her that he was innocent and
that he didn’t do it. He had gained her
sympathy. According to Andrew, she had
even attempted to be romantic with him.
“She brought the first aid kit and
cleaned up my wounds,” recounted
Andrew. After that, she confided in
Andrew about how her husband was a
lawyer who would be home soon and that
he should stay with her until he comes
home. He would be able to help with the
case.
“She offered me a drink too,”
Andrew told Detective Liam. “It was quite
out of the ordinary. I had asked for some
water, but she insisted on some alcohol.”
Detective Liam found this to be
odd as well. So he contacted Sarah once
again, and when she reached the station,
he asked her why she had a drink with him

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in the first place. “We did find glasses of
alcohol in your apartment during the
routine search,” he said sternly. He wanted
to ensure she would not lie to him.
“I didn’t have that drink willingly.
How dare you imply that I did?” she said
to the detective. According to her account,
Andrew was searching for some
documents on the desk at her apartment.
She stood close by as he was still holding
her captive with the knife. “I asked him if
I could have some water. Instead, he
forced me to make a drink for the two of
them.”
Sarah further continued that she
found a torch near the kitchen and she
slipped it into her pocket in a hope that it
might be useful for her to call for some
help. After pouring the two of them drinks,
while Andrew bandaged his bloody wound
himself, Sarah asked him whether she
could go to washroom. Though hesitant at
first, he agreed, and stood with his back

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towards the open door of the washroom.
This was how she had to go, or not at all.
Once at the washroom’s window,
she tried to flash the torch at the building’s
guard’s quarter, but at that time, the police
were pulling up, and through the heavy
hair, such a small light was barely
noticeable. Disappointed her plan did not
work, and in a hurry as Andrew was
asking her to quicken her pace, Sarah
hastily put the torch in her shirt pocket.
However, during the hurry, she forgot to
turn it off. Once Andrew noticed, he was
furious with her and grabbed her from
behind once again, attempting to strangle
her.
Andrew denied this part of the
story after Detective Liam recounted
Sarah’s side. “I had no need to be
aggressive,” he stated, surprised that Sarah
offered such a narrative, “She was
extremely kind. In fact, too kind. I told
you, the minute I had entered the place I
knew something was off.”

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 Andrew then proceeded to tell
Detective Davis that he spent his time
talking to Sarah normally and how she was
even a little over friendly. The two talked
about Katherine, but Andrew diverted the
conversation and asked why the coffee
table was broken in pieces. She simply
waived the question, saying she accidently
dropped a vase on it. That is when Sarah
went in the kitchen to get some water, and
Andrew discovered a wallet on the floor of
the apartment near the sofa. He picked it
up and on the wallet, Roger’s name was
imprinted. Before Andrew could say
anything, Sarah insisted that her husband
forgot his wallet at home. Andrew claimed
that after analysing the mysterious
situation, he believed that Roger was
already dead and his body was in the
bedroom, which was why previously,
Sarah had locked the door from outside.
The truth was getting lost in
between these two completely different
versions of the same night. Detective Liam

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knew that either Andrew or Sarah were the
killers, but he had to prove it as soon as he
could. First, he had to see who was telling
the truth about Roger: was Sarah telling
the truth when she said he was late and
simply forgot his wallet at home? Or was
Andrew telling the truth regarding Roger
already being dead when Andrew arrived?
To do so, he called the security
guards of the City Housing Society to get
further insight about what happened that
night. There were two guards on duty. The
first security guard, whose shift ended at
8:00P.M informed Liam that Roger came
home at about 7:30P.M and did not see
him leave the society at any time during
7:30P.M and the end of his shift. The
second security guard said that he was
experiencing some severe indigestion that
night, and so he was constantly going to
washroom, but until the time he was on his
duty, he also did not see Roger leave the
building. There was so saying, therefore,
whether Roger had left the building and

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come back after that, but it was for sure he
came home at 7:30P.M.
Detective Davis further asked
Sarah about what transpired next. Her
story picked off from where Andrew was
choking her, when Roger came home at
about 12:00A.M. Roger helped Sarah by
attacking Andrew, and the two fought.
According to Sarah, this is when Andrew
threw Roger on the coffee table, causing it
to break. While the two of them brawled,
Sarah rushed downstairs to call the police
in the pouring rain and by the time they
followed her back to the apartment, Roger
was already dead and Andrew was
standing over him.
At the station, Sarah started
bawling while telling the story of that
night, but Liam now knew she was lying.
“I asked the guards at your building about
when your husband came home. They said
he came home at 7:30P.M.” he stated
victoriously having caught her in a lie.

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 Sarah was surprised, but tried to
cover up her story. “No, you’re right. He
did come home at 7:30,” she said, “but he
collected some documents and left
immediately.”
Detective Liam was furious as he
had no way of figuring out whether Roger
did come and then leave once again, as the
second security guard never saw Roger go
back. However, he held by his anger and
told Sarah, “You’re in trouble. Your story
is untangling itself and forensics have
claimed that Roger died between 8:00P.M
and 12:00A.M, which means there is a
clear chance that you killed your
husband.”
He then received a call. Upon
picking up, he did not recognize the voice,
but then the other person on the line
claimed to be Andrew’s neighbour. “I
have a recording that might help with your
case.” The man said over enthusiastically.
When he came down to the
station, the man and his wife showed a

32
video of what seemed to be Andrew and
Katherine fighting. “We were at the hotel
spending some time together, and in this
video of me,” said the wife, handing over
her mobile phone to the detective, “you
can see clearly in the background, that
man – the writer – he is fighting with his
wife.”
The video was taken only a day
before Katherine’s death. Liam thought
that maybe this was the lead he was
waiting for to figure out the truth.
At his cell, Andrew paced
impatiently. Liam confronted him about
the video clip, but Andrew was unwilling
to comment on the video. “How about I
make this clear?” Liam said sternly, “This
clip is being used against you, so it’s best
you tell me the truth about what happened
that night and why you two were
fighting.”
Andrew remained silent for a
minute, but opened up and told the
detective that they were fighting because

33
Andrew wanted to cancel the book launch.
“I had learnt earlier that day that Katherine
was the one who leaked the name of the
girl who was raped. All to get success for
that dumb book. All she cared about was
having a successful book launch. I know
that girl’s death is on my hands.” Andrew
began tearing up. “I broke her promise.”
He sniffed. “I told Katherine I wanted to
cancel the book launch, but she refused.
Please…,” he pleaded, “don’t reveal this
to anybody. My wife was a good woman. I
want to respect her memory. Don’t drag
her into this. After our argument, she
refused to attend the book launch. If I
hadn’t fought with her…” Andrew paused.
“She’s dead because of me. I
killed her.”
Just then, a police officer entered
the room and asked to see Detective Liam
outside. Exiting the room, the detective’s
subordinate told him that forensics called
and asked to see Liam at the lab. The
doctor who performed the autopsy

34
informed the detective that Katherine died
of a heart attack, whereas, Roger died due
to blunt force trauma to the head by the
candle stick holder. The forensics experts
further analysed the position of the wound
on Roger’s head, and were able to
conclude that the killer was 6 feet tall at
least.
This evidence was damning
towards Andrew. There was no way they
could not arrest him. Between Sarah and
Andrew, only the latter was 6 feet fall. It
was clear now that Liam had to arrest
Andrew for Roger’s murder, and so he did
just that. Despite Andrew’s cries and
pleads that he wasn’t the killer, he was
jailed.
However, Liam’s gut was telling
him something was still off. The half burnt
pictures found at the crime scene were still
left to analyse. His team informed him
they have found the man who snapped
those photographs and that he would be
here anytime.

35
 After an hour or so, the man had
arrived. He wore a long, light brown,
trench coat, and introduced himself as a
private detective. “I was hired by Roger,”
he stated, “He suspected that his wife had
an affair with one of his close friends,
Lewis. I brought some copies of the
pictures.” He slid a file full of photographs
across the table to Detective Liam. A new
sketch of the murder began to form in
Liam’s mind. He knew that this case still
had some unanswered questions.
Liam sent his team to Lewis’s
apartment and brought him down to the
police station for questioning. Lewis was
much shorter and slimmer in comparison
to the late Roger, but was still 6 feet tall.
Liam placed the photographs in front of
Lewis. Pictures of him and Sarah out on
dinner together, holding hands, getting
intimate. After seeing the photos, Lewis
was quiet. He was a lawyer himself, and
knew he had the right to remain silent.

36
 “Listen, Lewis,” said Liam,
standing firm in front of a shaking Lewis,
“I don’t have much time. I need the truth,
Lewis, and I need it now. Did you go to
Sarah’s apartment that night?”
“No, no,” Lewis said, clearly
nervous, “I didn’t.”
“Forensics were able to place you
at the scene, Lewis,” Detective Liam said,
his tone of voice strong, “They found your
blood on the broken glass from the coffee
table. We know you went to see Sarah that
night.”
Lewis knew that he was trapped
and had nowhere to go. He had to tell the
truth. “I was having an affair with Sarah,”
he said, diverting his eyes to the ground,
almost ashamed. “I was with her at her
apartment that night, but we weren’t doing
anything more than just… talking.” He
continued. “That’s when Roger came
home, and confronted us. Since he usually
came home late, we were both quite taken
a back.”

37
 Just as he entered, the two
separated and acted as though they were
having a casual conversation. It seemed as
if Roger’s mood was already spoiled.
Swiftly, he walked towards Sarah and
handed her the envelope in which the
photographs of Lewis and Sarah resided.
Both of them were embarrassed after
looking at the pictures, and when Lewis
tried to apologise, Roger grabbed him and
pushed him onto the coffee table, breaking
it and leaving shards of glass all over the
floor.
“That’s when Roger left the
apartment in a rage. Sarah asked me to
leave as well, and so I did, some while
after.” Lewis recounted to Detective Liam.
“I came back later that night, though,” he
said, “just to check up on Sarah. I was
worried about her, that’s all, but she turned
me away.”
After speaking to Sarah once more
about the affair, she confirmed the same
turn of events, and that she didn’t open the

38
door because Andrew was standing behind
the door with a knife in his hand,
threatening her. The case kept taking new
turns, and new evidence kept coming up,
and this had left Detective Liam
completely confused as to who killed
Roger. Now it seemed even Sarah and
Lewis had a motive to kill him.
Liam decided to meet with
Andrew one last time, to hear the complete
version of his story and finally solve the
mystery and close the case. Andrew,
heartbroken, said, “I don’t have anything
more to say. I’m tired of fighting. You
never believe what I have to say, and
you’re focused on framing me.”
Liam nodded his head in
understanding. Andrew’s feelings were
justified, but Detective Liam needed to
know the truth, and so he told Andrew,
“this is the last chance you have at proving
your innocence.”
Andrew had stopped his story
previously after finding Roger’s wallet,

39
and so he started to retell the tale of that
night from there. He told Liam that after
finding the wallet, he wanted more than
anything to leave the apartment, but Sarah
stopped him. Just as he approached the
door, the bell rang and a person came in
who Sarah introduced as her husband
Roger.
“She introduced him as Roger, but
it wasn’t Roger. I had backed myself up
against a wall, where I saw a picture from
her wedding day with her husband. The
man in the picture was more muscular, and
older. The man Sarah introduced as Roger
had black hair, and the man in the picture
had brown hair. They looked nothing
alike.” Andrew spoke, a bit of hope in his
voice. “Just as I had realised it, I was hit in
the back of the head, and I fainted. After I
regained consciousness, I got up and saw
the real Roger dead on the floor. And
suddenly, the police had entered the flat
and arrested me. I am telling you. I am

40
being framed by her and that man.” He
concluded.
After hearing the complete
versions from both witnesses, Liam sat
down in his office and attentively looked
through the evidence. He just needed
something to tie everything together. Just
then, a police officer came into his office
to retrieve some files. Detective Liam
noticed the wet mud on the bottom of his
shoes. “Tell me,” Detective Liam asked
the police officer, “The day of Roger’s
murder, what time did it start raining?”
“Around 11:00P.M, detective.”
Replied the officer.
If Roger’s shoe soles had mud on
them that night, it meant he did indeed
come back and Andrew can be deduced as
the killer. If he didn’t, that means Sarah
and Lewis worked together to kill him. As
swift as an arrow, the detective went to the
evidence room and checked out the box
for this particular case. When he saw the
soles of his shoes, they were pristine, and

41
clean, without any indication of mud,
which made it clear that Sarah and Lewis
colluded together to murder Roger and
coincidently, frame Andrew, someone
already suspecting of his wife’s murder. It
was a great plan, but it was in vain, as
Detective Liam once again found the truth.
Sarah and Lewis were thrown in
jail for the case of murder. They pleaded
that they didn’t kill Roger but the evidence
presented by Detective Liam was quite
accurate, even though his own gut told
him otherwise. Liam personally went to
Andrew and told him that he was free
man. Liam apologised for the
inconvenience caused and allowed him to
go. Andrew, thankful, left his cell and
prepared to leave for the UK, but not
before cremating his wife’s body.
Back at home, Detective Liam
read Andrew’s latest book, deeply
interested. “Not a bad writer, this one,” he
said to his wife. She chuckled and told
Liam the protagonist of the novel dies of a

42
drug overdose. This struck Liam as a bit
odd. Katherine took medicine for her heart
condition. It did seem very odd that
someone so young died of a heart attack,
even given her heart condition.
The detective called the coroner,
who answered instantly, “I’ll go through
her toxicology report and check her
medicine,” he said, a bit confused as to
why the detective had asked him to look it
up if the case had been solved.
“I’m on my way,” said the
detective, climbing into his car in a hurry.
He was at the forensics lab in fifteen
minutes, where the doctor was able to
confirm exactly what Liam had thought.
“You were right. Somebody had
swapped Katherine’s pills with a much
higher dose, which caused her heart attack,
and thus her death.” Said the doctor.
Liam now had to rush to stop the
latest flight to London, otherwise the
actual killer would get away. He switched
on the blaring siren of his car and pushed

43
on the gas, swerving away from cars on
the street, trying to get to the airport on
time. He was getting a call from someone
he assumed was his subordinate who he’d
asked to contact the airline and stop the
flight.
“You better tell me you stopped
that fligh-” he said, but was cut off by
Andrew’s voice.
“Why?” he said, and Liam could
tell he was smiling, “Didn’t you already
close that case?”
“You bastard!” Liam swore at
him. “I know you killed her, Andrew!”
“But I already told you that, didn’t
I?” he asked smugly, “I killed her!”
Andrew said imitating a crying, sulky
voice, just as he did a few days ago.
“Award winning performance,
right?” he grinned. Andrew was walking
across the crowded airport, past airport
security and to the gate from where his
flight would be taking off, while talking to
Detective Liam on the phone. “You want

44
to know the real story? The truth?”
Andrew inquired.
“You killed her because she
figured out you released the name of the
girl to the public to generate buzz and she
was going to cancel your book release
because of it.” Detective Liam replied,
scornful.
“It’s not that simple, Liam.” Said
Andrew. “She was threatening to get me
arrested for leaking that girl’s name. What
else could I do? She threatened me and my
livelihood. She forced me to do it.”
Detective Liam was driving
recklessly, hoping to make it to the airport
on time, but it was on the other side of the
city, and no amount of speeding could let
him get there in time. The streets were
packed, and there wasn’t any way out of it.
“I didn’t enjoy doing it,” Andrew
continued, “but soon after I called the
police, she received a text on her phone.
She was colluding with a lawyer to have
me arrested. I couldn’t let him live either,

45
or I would have definitely been arrested.
So, I ran.” He paused for a moment, and
gave his boarding pass to the woman at the
airport who was asking for it. “Thank
you,” he replied to her with a smile.
“Sorry, where was I?” resumed
Andrew, “Right! So, I ran, and went to
that stupid justice-driven lawyer’s
apartment. I’m sure Sarah already told you
the rest of that story. She really was telling
the truth.” He sighed sarcastically. “When
I arrived, I didn’t find Roger, but I did find
the documents I needed and then some.
The pictures of Sarah with that man-”
“Lewis.” Detective Liam cut him
off, now starting to move past the traffic
jam and back on the route to the airport.
“Lewis.” Andrew said with a
smile.
“You knew she would lie about
her affair, and we would believe that was
evidence she killed her husband.” Liam
said, his heart racing, and his voice
showing how he was in a hurry.

46
 “Not bad, detective, not bad at
all,” said Andrew, seemingly impressed.
Just then, Detective Liam reached the
airport, and stopped at the entrance and
asked a woman in uniform to stop the
London flight. He rushed like the cold
wind to the gate to try and stop the flight,
but Andrew was already on board and
safely putting his luggage in the overhead
compartment. “I mean it was purely
coincidental. Who knew his wife would be
having an affair? Otherwise, I never would
have been able to pin this all on her. And
then, just as Sarah said, I killed Roger
when he came home late. I burned the
pictures only partially, just to keep you
guys on edge. And then I did exactly what
you told me to do, Liam, I told you a story.
My magnum opus, I think.” He smirked.
“You switched your shoes with
Rogers,” Liam said, still running, not
stopping for even a second of breath.
“Exactly! Stupid rainfall was
going to ruin my plan. The soles of

47
Roger’s shoes needed to be clean to fit my
story, and so I switched them with mine,
and it made sense, since it started raining
after I reached Sarah’s apartment. Nobody
even noticed they were one size too big for
Roger.” Andrew sat comfortably on his
airplane seat, and sighed victoriously.
“I’m just about to reach you,
Andrew,” Liam yelled, “Don’t get too
comfortable!”
“Come get me, Liam, but you
know better than I do, the UK government
won’t let you touch me without any
evidence, and I’ve already gotten rid of
Katherine’s body.” Andrew spoke with a
smile. It seemed psychotic. The man was
smiling about having murdered his wife.
He seemed almost… happy. It was
obvious he cared more about his career
than anything else.
“Good luck for the future Liam.”
Andrew said with a grin, and hung up the
phone.

48
 Before the detective could call off
the flight one last time, or get on the plane
while it was on American soil, the plane
was taxing for take-off. Andrew was long
gone, and Detective Liam Davis could do
nothing but watch the airplane fly away
from the airport.
Not only did Andrew have luck on
his side, but also coincidence, and there
was nothing the dejected detective could
do anything about that.

49
 Story II

THE TWO FACES OF NOAH

I t was twenty minutes past eleven, and

the previously cloudy lavender sky
had transformed into another overcast
night, signalling another layer of snow was
going to be falling soon.
“Cold weather we’re having these
days, eh?” Jackson looked up at the police
officer from the snow clad stairs of the
diner’s entry with his sharp green eyes,
and took a deep breath, a fleeting cloud of
air coming out of his mouth. He only
nodded in response. After a moment of
silence and letting his eyes dart around the
scene once more, the police man offered
another question, “So, you want to tell me
what you saw here tonight?”

50
 Shivering, Jackson nodded once
more, his soft, brown curls moving with
his head, “My shift started just an hour
ago. It’s Tuesday night, so I’m the only
one working. It’s not usually a busy night.
So when that man with the brown hair–”
The police man stopped Jackson
in between his sentence without looking
up from his small notebook, on which he
was quickly scribbling Jackson’s account,
“–and he said his name was Harry?”
Jackson nodded, “Harry, yeah. But
we all knew he was lying. We recognized
him. It was Noah Clyde – he lives at the
end of Cedar Street. Kind of keeps to
himself, y’know? Never comes out of his
house, never talks to anyone. People keep
away from him too, especially after the
rumors of some kids going missing.”
Jackson paused and rubbed his hands
together, attempting to keep them warm.
The police man noticed Jackson
did not seem too traumatized for someone
who just witnessed a shoot-out in a small

51
diner. He didn’t know, however, that
Jackson’s ramblings were a result of the
tension he felt when he was trapped with
customers and Noah – or Harry, as he
called himself – in the diner.
Jackson recalled the rest of the
night. He didn’t understand why Noah
introduced himself as Harry, but it also
wasn’t very interesting to Jackson or the
few customers at the diner. Instead, they
were focused on the old man at the end of
the gun Noah was holding.
Noah Clyde had spent the last four
years of his life in solitude. When he
turned 19, Noah started noticing he was
losing time. He would wake up in weird,
unknown, places and couldn’t account for
all his missed time. He had lost his parents
in a car accident just before it started
happening.
Though at first it didn’t seem
something as trivial as losing time could
hurt Noah, it started to catch up with him.
People at his college he had no

52
recollection of meeting would greet him as
Harry, and he was unable to recall any of
the quizzes he had supposedly taken and
failed.
Soon, things would start to get
worse.
During a late night, while Noah
was studying for finals in his dorm room,
there was a knock on the door. A much
younger Noah, with round glasses and
dark messy hair got up the bed and opened
the door. Two police officers, clad in their
blue uniform, stood on the other side of
the door. A tall blonde man, whose name
tag read Wilson, informed Noah they were
only here to follow up on an assault
charge.
“We promise this isn’t going to
take long. Can we come in?” he asked
calmly, almost as if he was bored with the
situation.
Noah titled his head quizzically.
He couldn’t fathom the idea of hurting
another human being. He slowly nodded

53
his head, and allowed the police men to
enter his small university dorm room. “I’m
sorry officers, but you must have me
confused with someone else. I didn’t
assault anyone.” Noah reassured them as
they entered and he closed the door behind
him.
The second officer, who had
previously introduced himself as Officer
Robert, looked straight at Noah, and
confirmed the fight had been charged to
one Noah Clyde. It started to become
apparent that Noah was becoming violent
during the times he could not remember.
At that moment, his heart started beating a
thousand miles a second, and before he
knew it, he had zoned out.
Though Noah did not remember
the rest of the night when he woke up, he
did remember reading a letter he found on
his desk the next morning. It was a
restraining order. He could not go within
300 feet of a boy named Eric Foreman.

54
Noah thought back hard to whether or not
he actually knew anybody by that name.
It was after this surprise visit that
Noah decided that though he attempted to
live his life normally after such a drastic
change in events, especially those he could
not make sense of, it started to become
more impossible. Impulsively, almost
instantly, Noah began to pack his suitcase
and for the next three days, attempted to fit
everything he owned in a few boxes. He
decided living in his childhood home on
his own would be more suitable.
Cedar Street was on the edge of
the small town of Chilton Creek. The
houses on Cedar were small, almost like
bungalows, and almost all of them needed
to be repainted. It was a nice change of
scenery from the city – no blaring cars, or
fog filled roads. At least at Chilton, Noah
wouldn’t have any trouble hearing his own
thoughts.
His small home was secluded,
with no houses on the opposite side the

55
road, only a marvellous, gorgeous view of
the creek. Having his house right at the
edge meant Noah was able to live close to
the water. Growing up, Noah’s father
would take him swimming, sometimes
even fishing, during the summer. In the
winters, when the creek would freeze and
turn to ice, they would risk hypothermia
and their lives, and go ice skating.
His old bedroom was larger than
he remembered. Perhaps it was because of
the small dorm room he was previously
residing in. Everything seemed larger in
comparison to the tiny room that could
barely fit one bed. Though Noah would
continue to experience the blacking out, at
least he did not wake up to any violent
messes, and so, he proceeded to live in
seclusion, away from the crowds and mass
of people.
Noah was used to having his
groceries delivered, his classes online, and
anything else he needed done from home.
Once he had gotten his degree, he worked

56
from home as well. According to Noah,
things happened to be going smoothly.
Until one fateful evening, when
the unusually heavy snowfall meant
Noah’s groceries would not make it to him
in time for dinner. His initial thought was
just to wait until the next morning for the
snow to melt, but his empty stomach
rumbled for food so loudly, he figured one
trip to the diner nearby couldn’t hurt.
Noah stepped outside of his house,
clad in his navy blue coat and matching
snow boots, and closed the front door
behind him. He brushed the snow off the
roof of his car, and shuffled his way into
the driver’s seat. Shivering, Noah took off
his gloves and blew some air into them to
help warm them up. Turning the key
caused a large roar from the car’s engine
to erupt, and Noah moved forward.
The drive wouldn’t take more than
twenty minutes, but with the piled up
snow on the roads and the dim lighting, it
seemed to be taking forever. Noah stopped

57
at another red light, and sighed with
frustration. While he was busy swearing
like a sailor to himself, there was a small
tap on his fogged up car window.
Hesitantly, Noah looked up but
could not make out who was on the other
side. Slowly, he lowered his car window
and blinked at the old man looking down
at him from out in the cold. “Sir, w-w-
would you mind if I-I-I asked you for a
ride?” the old man asked, shivering from
the cold, “I j-just need a lift to the nearest
watering hole or restaurant in the area,” he
continued. Noah did not know how to
react. “I just need to make one call, really.
Damned phone’s not getting any reception
here. I was just passing through when my
car skidded on the ice and crashed into
that tree there,” the old man’s finger which
was covered by a pair of old, grey gloves,
pointed towards the crushed blue car in the
back of the road.
The traffic light in front of him
was just about to turn green, his stomach

58
was still growling, and so Noah made a
hasty decision. How could he turn down
somebody in need of help? Besides, he
needed to go to the same place, anyways.
“Sure, sure,” he nodded, and the
old man quickly walked across the car to
the passenger side, and swiftly secured
himself in the car, just as the traffic light
signaled go. Noah stepped on the gas and
continued to make his way through the
small town where he grew up.
“I’m Finch. Michael Finch.” Said
the old man, offering a handshake.
Noah let one hand off the steering
wheel, shook the old man’s hand and
offered him a smile, “You can call me
Noah.”
Just as Noah put his hand back on
the wheel, and looked straight ahead, Mr.
Finch stuffed his hand into his coat pocket
and pulled out a gun, swiftly pointing it
towards Noah’s side. Mr. Finch smiled at
Noah in a creepy, spine-chilling manner.
Noah, unsure of what to do, took a deep

59
breath and continued to go slowly on the
icy roads.
“Noah,” the old man whispered,
“you’re going to do as exactly as I tell
you, and you won’t be hurt.” Noah gulped
and only nodded his head. His heart was
going a thousand miles a minute, and he
couldn’t control it. Just as this happened,
he seemed to black out.
The mind is a mysterious thing.
Since the car accident he experienced
when he was 19, Noah’s mind responded
to the trauma of losing his parents, and his
best friends, by creating an alternate
personality that did not have to deal with
the trauma. This personality especially
comes out when he is afraid, or tensed, or
reminded of his trauma.
Of course, Noah did not know this
yet. He never contacted a doctor when he
thought he was losing time. If he had, they
would have labelled him as someone with
dissociative identity disorder. More

60
commonly known as multiple personality
disorder.
Once the old man pulled out the
gun, and Noah began fearing for his life,
his alternate personality reared its ugly
head. Harry. It was not unusual that
Noah’s alternate personality is the exact
opposite of the real him – mean, violent,
out-spoken. Which is why this meant the
old man wouldn’t last even an hour.
Once Harry took over Noah’s
body, his shoulders relaxed, and he felt
less anxious. Mr. Finch was rambling on
about his plan of robbing the diner for its
petty cash, but Harry did not pay him any
mind. Instead, he stepped on the gas and
they were at the diner within five minutes.
Harry turned to look at Mr. Finch,
and pretended to look afraid. Mr. Finch
laughed in his face. “This was a lot easier
than I’d expected,” he grinned.
Another car pulled up in the
parking lot, distracting Mr. Finch for just
long enough for Harry to grab the gun

61
from him, and pointed to the back of the
car, in case Mr. Finch decided to fire it
immediately, and he did. Harry then used
his free hand to grab Mr. Finch’s arm, and
twisted it. The old man cried out in pain
and let go of the gun.
Harry took this as his cue to exit
the car with the gun in hand, and walk to
the passenger seat door. He pulled Mr.
Finch out of his car and pushed the car
door closed. “You’re right,” Harry
chuckled, “this was extremely easy.” He
inflected.
Which brought us to when
Jackson saw the two enter the pink
interior, 80s themed diner, with a scorned
Mr. Finch on Harry’s left, gun pointed at
his head.
“He asked me to make him a
burger and some fries.” Jackson sighed.
“He threatened me with the gun, so I did.”
His voice got quieter. “Our security
system needs to be updated, which is why
even though I clicked on the emergency

62
button in the kitchen that sends you guys a
signal, it didn’t work.”
The police officer offered Jackson
a cigarette, which Jackson silently
declined with a short shake of the head.
The police officer pushed Jackson to
continue, “Then what happened?” he
questioned.
“He just wanted some food. Once
I had given it to him, he was going to
leave, until that old man he was with tried
to fight him again for the gun. The two
started fighting, and gun shots were going
off like crazy. Everybody hid underneath
the tables, or joined me behind the
counter. Gladly, someone had called you
with their mobiles when Harry-” Jackson
paused, “sorry, I mean Noah- had
entered.”
The police man nodded, signalling
that that was all he needed to hear. After
all, he knew what happened next. He and
his partner had entered, and instantly shot
at Harry in the back. He was dead within

63
minutes. Since the old man could lie in his
testimony, considering the only witness to
his surprise attack in the car was dead, it
wasn’t likely he would be charged.
The town police further
investigated Noah’s house, where they
would eventually find pieces and pieces of
information that would slowly help them
put together the timeline of the decline of
Noah’s mental state. Diaries filled with
accounts of Harry’s homicidal tendencies,
and the bodies of several missing people
sloppily buried in the back yard, and a few
in the basement.
If only Noah was able to better see
his first impression of the old man was
wrong, and the truth, along with those 25
bodies, would remain forever hidden.

64
The First Impression

Poems

65
 Poem I

THE EPIPHANY

The radiant sun is warm with wonder,

While a detective sits and ponders.
His board is bright with red and yellow,
And the detective thinks about the fellow,
Who entered a house,
Like a silent mouse,
Taking a life and some jewellery,
For who could partake in such
tomfoolery?
He was looking with all his might,
But the detective couldn’t see a solution in
sight.
At that moment, he put his hat and
grabbed his coat,
How could he not see it before?
He could get the neighbour to admit,
For she’s the one who did it!
There was no chance he was wrong,
Amongst criminals she did belong.

66
 Poem II

FIRST IMPRESSION

Laughing and making faces,

In all kinds of places,
And impressing others on passing whim,
Can prove your ability to charm to be slim.

Though first impressions can be untrue,

And prove difficult to undo,
Do not worry what they think,
Or you may end up on the brink.

67
68