The Pyle Inside

“Mystery of the Police Station Murderer”
by Margot Su

Mildred slid on some quick, stretchy clothing.  This was her first day as a police officer, and she wasn’t going to mess up.  Mildred placed the police badge on her jacket, and headed to her Toyota Corolla.  As she sat inside the driver’s seat, someone knocked on her car door.  It was a strange man.  You couldn’t see his face; his black hood was concealing it.  The hand that had knocked was bruised and covered in dirt and dried blood.  Mildred rolled down the window.
“Yes?” she asked politely. The stranger with the hood slid it off.  His skin fell off, too.  It was Dale.
“DALE!  HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO ASK YOU TO STOP SCARING ME??!”  Mildred complained angrily.  “I’m gonna be late now, OK?”  Dale laughed.
“Finally,” he said.  You’ve actually gotten a job, as a . . .” Dale squinted at Mildred’s badge.  “A police officer.  Wow. Ok.”
Mildred sighed and rolled the window up.  She started the old Toyota, and rolled out of the driveway.  Dale waved.  Mildred waved halfheartedly and drove towards the police station.  As she parked, she saw a young man with blonde hair wearing handcuffs.  Two policemen were dragging him into a cell.  He was screaming and crying, begging them to let him go, but the men ignored his pleas.  Mildred swung the door shut.
“HEY!  LEAVE HIM ALONE!”  she yelled to the officers. One of them tied the man to the door, and came up to her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked suspiciously.
Mildred showed him her badge.  “I’m a new officer,” she said.
“Oh,” he said, and nodded.  “Name’s Drew, Drew Whalte.” He pointed a finger to the blonde man sitting with the officer. “That one, he killed his wife and his own child.  We suspect he’s mentally ill.”
“Oh,” Mildred said.  “I didn’t know.”
Drew slapped her on the back. “Hey, man, it’s ok,” he said, “first is always the worst.”
Drew led Mildred through the doors, and to the front desk.  A short lady was seated in the chair.
“Bring Mr. Stewarde in, please,” the lady said, gesturing to Drew. Drew nodded, and brought the blonde man inside.
“Please, you’ve got the wrong man, honest, I never did a thing!” wailed the blonde man.
“Be quiet, Mr. Stewarde,” said the short secretary, whose plaque read Alice Boyd, Secretary.
Drew shoved Mr. Stewarde in the nearest cell, and stood next to Mildred.  Mildred saw that Drew was sweating.
“Stand by, Miss Mildred parker,” said Alice.
“Y-yes’m,” said Mildred nervously.
“Drew, feed all cells 1 through 10.”
“On it,” said Drew. Slowly, he began making his way from cell to cell, leaving small bowls of oat and bran as he went to each cell.
“Mildred–uh.. Parker?” said Alice.
“Yes’m?” asked Mildred.
“Please report to Mr. Jerusalem.”
“Yes’m,” said Mildred.
Mildred was about to ask where Mr. Jerusalem’s office was, but she stopped herself.
“Mildred Parker?” asked a tall man with square glasses, whom Mildred assumed to be Mr. Jerusalem. Mildred followed him quietly into his office.
“So, how is your day so far?” asked Mr. Jerusalem, leaning into his chair.
“Good, sir, yours?” asked Mildred timidly.
Mr. Jerusalem chuckled.
“Ah, same,” he remarked.
Mildred squeezed her hands under the table.
“Don’t be nervous,” said Mr. Jerusalem, “I’m not your boss.  Would you like me to call him in?”
Mildred started to shake her head no, but said politely, “OK.”
Drew walked into the room with the oat and bran. “Good mornin’ Mildred,” he said.
Mildred stifled a gasp in horror.  Drew was her BOSS??!!
“Drew, do you mind getting Miss Mildred’s boss?” asked Mr. Jerusalem.
“Oh, no problem,” laughed Drew, and he headed out, whistling.
Mildred gave a sigh of relief. Mr. Jerusalem twiddled his thumbs.  Mildred look at her hands. Drew came in, five minutes later, looking shaken up.
“What took you so long?” barked Mr. Jerusalem.
“Boss- boss is d-dead,” stammered Drew helplessly.
“WHAT!” yelped Mr. Jerusalem?
Drew pointed to the office across the hall.
Mr. Jerusalem hurried into the office.  A tall man with a knife through his chest lay, eyes glazed, on the floor.
“MISS ALICE!  Mr. Poe has been KILLED!”  Mr. Jerusalem yelled.
Alice Boyd hurried into the room.
“No,” she breathed.  “Not again. . .”
Alice rushed back to her desk and called 9-1-1. Mildred ran after her.  Alice slowly turned to her.
“Mildred, you are dismissed for the day.”
Mildred drove home.  It was raining.  As she got into her house, she gasped.  The place had been torn apart!  The $500 rug she had just bought was cut up in several different places.  The closet in her bedroom was lying on its side, glass broken from all four cabinets.  Her bed was ruined, sheets ripped off, the mattress stuffing all over the floor.
“Oh my GOSH!” said Mildred, covering her mouth in horror.
Mildred sat on her bed and opened her purse.  Luckily, she’d brought it with her, and everything was still there.  She turned on her phone, and dialed Dale.  Nothing.  It was his answering machine.  Mildred left a message.
“Hey Dale, I was robbed, please let this not be one of your tricks, bye, Mildred.”
Dale called at dinner that night.
“Hello?” Mildred said.
“Mildred, it- be careful——-”
“DALE? DALE? DALE?????” Mildred hung up.
Mildred sat down and began to eat her cold food.  Her fridge had broken just a few hours ago because of the storm outside, and the milk and meats were all spoiled.  Mildred had spent half the day, cleaning her house and making it into tip-top shape.  Still, not everything was fixed quite yet.  Mildred finished her dinner of cold clams, and Chinese food leftovers.  Slowly, she chewed her way through it, glumly.  Then, there was a knock on the door.
Mildred got up, and peeked through the peep-hole.  It was Dale, wearing a dark rain coat.  Mildred opened the door.
“Dale?” she said, shivering.
“Mildred, you-you-,” Dale gave a loud gasp, and fell to his knees.
“DALE!?” Mildred yelped in alarm.
A man in a black jacket hurried away.  He held a pistol.
“HEY!” yelled Mildred.  “MURDER!”
The man hurried off.  He slid through a tunnel nearby, and was gone.  Mildred knelt down next to Dale.
“Dale,” Mildred breathed.
Dale groaned and rolled over.  Then, his eyes froze, and closed.  They never opened again.
Mildred called 911 and told them what happened.  Two police cars came.  The first car took Dale away, and the second searched for the man in the black jacket.  He was nowhere to be seen.

Man in black jacket perspective:
I ran as fast as I could before shootin’ Millie’s brother.  She screamed so loud, I jumped and hurried to my lair, laughing.
Nobody knows where it is, nobody, not even the cops.