Detective Barlow surveyed the city from the terrace. He had been summoned in the early hours of the morning to investigate a case. A man, Felix, had fallen to his death from the same place. Felix had thrown a party for his friends in his fifteenth floor apartment. All of them were intoxicated and nobody saw Felix moving to the terrace. His shocked friends were now detained by the police.
Detective Barlow heard a noise behind him. A young man stood there, a determined look on his face.
“Yes?” asked the detective
“Felix was pushed down.”
“How do you know? Who are you?”
“That is not important. Let us just say that Felix has nobody but me. The guy in the dark blue shirt, Rory… He was the one.”
The detective looked incredulous. “Rory Smith called the police. Who are you? Felix’s neighbour?”
A loud commotion below interrupted their conversation. When Barlow turned around, the young man was gone.
Barlow looked at Felix’s group of friends while walking to the ambulance. Rory stood there with bowed head, a picture of sadness. The detective opened the ambulance door and a strong gust of wind blew away the sheet covering Felix’s corpse.
Barlow blinked, shocked. The corpse was the young man from the terrace!
“Arrest Rory Smith” he cried
This was written for Alastair’s photo fiction.