- 1 - One Corpse, Two Detectives, Three Evidences

LUKE MATTHEW

THE THIRD WEEK of classes opened with the usual peaceful Monday. The calmness of the environment as I walked the long way to Albertus Magnus University is as annoying as it can get every time.

Like any other school day, I left the Salcedo Mansion several hours earlier than my schedule to spend about one to two hours in my Pops’ house. The rest of my free time is spent walking to the uni and reading thrilling adventure novels in AMU’s library.

A thrilling adventure—something I have yearned for all of my years—an experience that (maybe) any high school student would wish for.

I gave a jolly greeting to the security guard as I entered the premises of AMU. However, the quietness that welcomed my ears was deafening.

My bottomline here: Afternoon classes suck. There weren’t even students loitering around the campus. Everything’s just boring—TOO BORING! . . . Or maybe not.

The blanket of silence was torn apart when some of the morning class students, a few faculty members, and those little number of arriving afternoon students rushed in both panic and confusion. I was suddenly surrounded by a mess of running people that I couldn’t comprehend what exactly was going on. One minute, everything was silent. The following minute, boom!

The questions bothering my mind were given answers when I heard one clear yell from a student. “Someone’s on the rooftop! She’s gonna jump!”

. . . What?

I hastily grabbed a person from the crowd. Her identity was unknown to me, except for the fact that she’s blonde and her eyes were filled with tears of both horror and hope.

I asked what was going on and I was taken aback by her response. She took both of my arms and cried, “Help me!”

“W-Why? What’s the matter?”

“She will end her life. My friend, she . . . she left me this—” She handed me a neatly-folded paper. “—this note. Help me save her, please!”

I felt adrenaline rush all over my muscles as I asked, “Where is she? Your friend.”

“JHB rooftop,” she replied.

From that moment forth, we stuck together until we witnessed the girl we were running for standing dangerously close to the edge of the rooftop.

My companion screamed in absolute fright. I quickly dropped my things and ran up the stairs. How I wish there were elevators here!

As the door came into my view while climbing the last flight of stairs, I knew then that it was locked. I pounded it hard and shouted, “Do not jump! Please! Do not jump!”

Upon receiving no response from the other side of the door, I decided to kick the knob repeatedly until it broke. When it finally did, I barged in and exclaimed, “Feliza! Feliza, do not do this. Please. . . .”

“You really didn’t stop.” Feliza, the girl standing right on the edge, mocked with a smile that reflected how she had given up on living. “Did you think you can stop me?”

But I will not give up on her. “Why are you doing this? Look down! Can’t you see her? Can’t you see your friend?”

“Did you really think you can stop me, by saying those words? No one ever cared about me.”

“Please, don’t do this. We can talk. You can share your problems with me. I’m willing to listen! Just, please, step down. . . .” I used the gentlest tone of voice I could muster as I slowly, slowly made my way toward her. Deep inside, I wish I convinced her to change her final decision.

But she made my heart freeze as she lifted a foot, playing a balance game right on the dangerous edge. I exclaimed, “Your friend! T-Think about your friend. She cares about you!”

“Oh, does she now?” Feliza laughed with sad tears. For a brief moment, her gaze drifted to the piece of paper I held tightly in my hand. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters! She’ll never look at me the same way I look at her.”

I drew in a sharp breath as I realized what she meant by her sentence. It was an unexpected twist. It didn’t cross my mind that those three words at the end of her note meant more than friendship.

“But she’s down there, horrified yet hopeful. She’s afraid of what you’ll choose, but she’s waiting for you to—”

She cut my sentences short. “Please give my note back to her.” She smiled; her eyes broken. “I know you, Major Vargas. Your reputation precedes you. But . . . you’ve come too late.”

Right then and there, she took the ultimate step that led her down to the ground below the Junior High Building. Although her final words came to my ears muted by the loud pounding in my chest, my lip-reading skills allowed me to get the message.

“Tell Catherine I love her.”

“FELIZA!!”

With shaking pupils, I stared at her now-dead body. Twisted limbs, broken bones, bashed head, a pool of blood… It was a gruesome image yet she wore a smile on her lips. Although I couldn’t clearly see it, her open eyes may be glistening with her last tears. I clenched my fist around the note she left for her beloved person.

I was about to leave my spot and descend from the rooftop when a familiar figure came into my view. In the gathering crowd below, Hibara, the bespectacled transferee student in our class from last week who weirdly introduced herself without a surname approached the corpse without hesitation.

The blonde-haired student, Catherine, attempted to approach the body too, but Hibara stopped her from coming any closer. My heart sank as I witnessed her cry in unimaginable pain. Catherine, who saw me as a flicker of hope earlier, now sat broken in front of Feliza’s lifeless eyes. I closed my eyes and drew in a sharp breath. I slammed my fist on the rooftop’s edge as thoughts ran around my head.

I’ve failed them both. . . . Their story collapsed into an undreamed-of ending under my watch.

I let out another frustrated breath before reopening my eyes. The transferee next showcased some sort of a body examination on the corpse. She lifted Feliza’s arms and legs, looked closely at the head, and then checked the skirt pocket where she took out a small bottle. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it looked like a fragrance bottle from up here. She touched the right edge of her specs and inspected the item like a subject under a microscope.

I was so engrossed in watching her like she's some sort of a detective that I didn’t notice two CAT Officers in uniform approach me.

“Major Vargas, sir, we received an order from the Corps Commander to take you to the Commandant, sir,” announced the male one, Lt. Walters, as shown on the name cloth of his General Office Attire.

“What is this, Lieutenant?” I asked, utterly surprised and in disbelief.

The female one, Lt. Perez, answered, “Sir, you are a suspect in the murder of Feliza de la Cruz. Please come with us peacefully so we won’t resort to using the skills we trained for, sir.”

This can’t be true!

“No, I will not come with you! This is absurd! You didn’t know what happened; this is just a mere presumption!” I exclaimed my reason, but they proceeded to tie my arms behind my back with a rope— similar to Dr. Jose Rizal, the Philippines’ National Hero.

They brought—no—they dragged me from the rooftop down to the ground. I kept on saying that I was in no way involved in a murder but my words plainly fell on deaf ears. Well, I can’t blame them. They are under the orders of the Corps Commander, the highest position in the CAT Officers.

“WHO ON EARTH SAID THAT THIS IS MURDER?” I shouted as we were finally with the crowd around the corpse.

“I did,” a guy raised his hand proudly. “You know me, don’t you? The Colonel believes my deductions.” He is Jacob Valle, the famous President of The Forensic Club, a detective club here in AMU.

“AND I AM THE MURDERER?”

“Indeed, you are.”

“YOU— ARRGH!” I tried to get off these two lieutenants’ grip to attack the president but to no avail. “YOU BASTARD!” I heaved an annoyed huff as I failed and Jacob laughed at my attempt. His two companions, Teresita Añosa and Aliszia Tuazon, respectively the VP and the Sec, chuckled.

“This is suicide; there is no murderer,” Hibara stepped forward, facing Jacob as she again touched the right edge of her specs before taking it off and sliding it into her skirt pocket.

“Yeah? How will you prove that?” Jacob asked, challenging the transferee student.

“Oh, come on! You see but you don’t observe!” She exclaimed at him then eyed me from head to toe. “A musician with family issues, did you really think he will irrationally pour his frustrations to this woman who was unknown to him not until he read her suicide note?”

“Musician? Family issues? Suicide note?” Jacob asked the same things I had in mind. The two lieutenants let go of me as Hibara walked closer but still stood on guard.

“His hands are obviously a musician’s hands. Not a stringed instrument, so, probably a piano. Family issues can be a factor in his early arrival at school as I have observed in my first week. He doesn’t like spending time with his mother and his father doesn’t want him to have a late record.

“Because his parents have issues, he had an expensive lunch but chose to walk instead of taking the car. He came from his mother’s house, rode a taxi to his father’s before coming here, and arrived at the scene.

“He left his backpack and coat right there,” she pointed at my belongings; “and ran to the rooftop to try to stop the poor woman from jumping but obviously failed, hence the corpse. He’s holding onto a piece of paper tightly, not wanting to let go because it is the evidence that would prove his innocence: the suicide note.

“Did I get anything wrong, Major Luke Matthew Vargas?”

“Incredible,” I mumbled in amazement. “No, wait, sorry for spacing out, um . . .” I looked over to Jacob, “She’s right. She got everything right. This is the suicide note of Feliza,” I shook my hand; “take it.”

Hibara took the note from my hand, read it silently, and then gave it to Jacob.

“Untie him, Lieutenants,” the commanding voice of Col. Christopher Blanchard, the Corps Commander, was heard from the crowd.

The two responded, “Sir, yes, sir,” and then untied me. I stretched my arms as I felt the aftereffects of the restraint.

“You two are not under the First Battalion, am I right?” I asked, trying to sound friendly after what they did.

“Yes, sir. We are from the Honor & Escort,” Lt. Walters answered in a way that seemed like nothing had happened between us.

“Mm, that’s why I don’t recognize you.” I tapped his shoulder. “Next time, do not tie someone when they’re not yet proven guilty. Understood?”

“Y-Yes, sir. Apologies,” Lt. Perez lowered her head.

“Apology accepted.” I smiled. “Dismissed.” And they left.

“This doesn’t prove anything!” Jacob announced, throwing the piece of paper on the ground and stepping on it.

Catherine stomped her way to him, “YOU DISRESPECTFUL HUMAN!” She shouted at his face with much anger and gave him a hard slap; the impact planted a pink tint on his right cheek. She picked up the note, dusted it off, and folded it neatly before walking back to the crowd. I noticed then the dried and new tears on her face. I can barely imagine how it must’ve been so hard for her to see her friend die this way. . . .

“Present me your evidences, detective wannabe,” Hibara challenged Jacob who was still holding his cheek.

“As you wish, you meddlesome youngster.” He moved forward in front of her along with his two companions and the deduction show began. The Secretary collected photographs with the DSLR camera hanging around her neck while we watched the scene unfold. I couldn’t speak in much amazement at the events.

“First off, this is a plain murder case and the guy you’re defending is guilty. The actions you said he did were merely a cover-up to save him from the accusation. Who knows what words he said to the victim? Surely, it pushed her to finish her life. Second, the victim’s body reeks of men’s fragrance. She’s a girl so obviously, the fragrance was from her murderer. Third, the suicide note is no proof. He could have written it himself to create a free get-out-of-jail card.”

Catherine cut in, “This is her handwriting and she left it in my bag, you dimwit!”

“How about he made her write it and plant it in your bag?” Jacob opposed and I could see Hibara flash a little victorious smile.

“Is that all?” she asked in a way that he got offended, big time.

“Are you saying I am mistaken?”

“Yes, very.” She smiled at him and he clenched his fists. “You dare accuse an innocent man; you need to cross me first. I do not defend the wicked; I uphold the law,” she stated with conviction and then continued in her own ‘normal’ way with some sarcastic remarks here and there. Maybe not just ‘some’. . . .

“It was a mistake for me to say that you see but you don’t observe, because, in the very beginning, you didn’t know where to look! You were twisting the facts to suit whatever theory you have in that pesky little brain of yours instead of theorizing from the facts— Whoa! Two detectives! One real and one fake— Isn’t this exciting?

“Is there anyone filming this? This particular story of one corpse, two detectives, and three evidences must have some sort of a record, hmm? Yes, there are three evidences to prove Major Vargas’ innocence; three evidences to prove that this boring Club President is absolutely incorrect. I would really love to have a record of his face once I reveal my deductions.

“One, the suicide note. Two, the fragrance. And three, the witness herself—the blonde friend of Felicity.”

The said blonde-haired student cut in once again, “She’s Feliza.”

“Sorry about that. I have trouble recalling the names of insignificant people,” Hibara said, which earned her a WTF look. Did she just tell Catherine that her friend is insignificant?

“Moving on!” Hibara exclaimed, regaining everyone’s attention. She looked in Jacob’s direction and said, “Listen to this, detective wannabe, hmm?”

“Shut up and just finish this shitty deduction show!” he returned, which made Hibara chuckle.

“Alright, alright. First, the suicide note is obviously written by Feliza. Major Vargas is right-handed and the writing suggests left-handedness. I inspected the corpse and found traces of ink on her left hand because that’s every left-hander’s struggle—the smudging of their writing. Blondie here can vouch for me to prove that my deduction is correct.” She paused and looked over at Catherine who nodded in agreement.

Hibara smiled for a second and then continued. “Second, the fragrance that you have distinguished as ‘for men’ was right but it is not the Major’s choice of fragrance. Feliza’s was the Bench Wired Eau de Cologne,” she took the bottle from her pocket and showed it to the crowd; “I have taken this from her skirt earlier while I was inspecting. It had spilled after the fall, that’s why she reeks of the smell. Major Vargas, however, if you have a good nose, you can easily recognize the scent of . . .”

She paused, approached me, and began sniffing parts of my white long-sleeved polo. I tensed a little at the sudden interaction when her nose touched my nape. After a few seconds of moving her nose around, she stood properly and faced the crowd, her twinkling emerald eyes gazing at Jacob’s dark brown ones as she smirked. “. . . roses. Roses blended with shiso leaves and guaiac wood, with a tiny hint of spice and a slight smell of earth. His choice was none other than Aesop’s Rōzu Eau de Parfum.”

“How in the world could you immediately recognize that from sniffing me like a dog for just five seconds?” I asked in surprise and amazement.

“Properly trained olfactory nerve, Major.” She smiled and turned back to the crowd. “Now, for the third evidence, Blondie here stands as the witness,” she said and gestured at Catherine.

“Would you please narrate how you met this guy?”

“I think he had just entered Gate 1 when he found some students running about. He stopped me to ask what was going on and of course . . . I told him what was going on. I gave him Feliza’s note, then . . . then we ran together. He dropped his items, basically flew upstairs, and . . . and I know he tried to stop my friend from jumping. I know he did! And I’m not mad at him that he failed. I’m madder at myself.”

I stared at Catherine as she said those words, refusing to believe what I heard. She locked her gaze with mine before giving a broken smile and continuing.

“The look on his face when I told him about my friend . . . He wanted to save her. You cannot fake such emotion and I felt his determination to save a life.” She lowered her head for a moment before glaring intensely toward Jacob. “I know my feelings . . . I know I am not wrong to defend this man from you who is unreasonable and disrespectful.”

Hibara chimed, “President, if you really are into ‘playing detective,’ what did the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes said about intuitions, hunches, feelings, instincts?”

“They are not to be ignored,” Jacob answered, still clutching his fists.

“And why is that?” she asked teasingly, deliberately humiliating the President of The Forensic Club in front of a crowd.

He closed his eyes, relaxed his hands, and replied in a low voice, “They represent data processed too fast for the conscious mind to comprehend.”

“Hah!” Hibara exclaimed, clapping her hands once. “Now, I want you to remember me as the 14-year-old student who defended an innocent guy and crushed you and your boring club with just a single case.

“It is a pleasure to meet someone who thinks they are better than me. The name is Hibara White,” she remarked and then headed for the stairs of the Junior High Building.

I picked up my coat and backpack and followed her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“White isn’t your surname; you sit beside Casis.”

“So?”

“You lied.”

“So what?”

“It’s not good.”

She stopped in her tracks and faced me. “Just like how you have your issues with your family, I have my own. Stop following me now.” Then she continued climbing the flight of stairs.

“But we’re classmates!”

“Are we?”

“Well, yes! How will you explain how you knew my full name? You called me ‘Major Luke Matthew Vargas’.”

“I saw it on the CAT Officers board.”

“No, you said you ‘have trouble recalling the names of insignificant people’.”

“Fine, I remembered yours because Luke and Matthew are in the Bible. It’s boring.”

“Boring?!”

“Good morning, Major!” She gave a ridiculing smile before running.

“YOU OBSERVED ME; YOU SAID IT YOURSELF, YOU LITTLE INSULTING DETECTIVE!” I shouted as I chased after her.