Here I was, another day in my office when the big case came up: the murder of Annie Wilkinson. At the news of this, I became enraged, saddened, and very determined to find this killer.

"When the fuck did this happen?" I muttered to myself as I tied my long black frizzy hair into a ponytail and deciding to don a black suit and a red armband, I sped to the scene. 

The moment I was in that apartment, it became hard to breathe; the air smelt of death and tobacco. I felt dizzy, but attempted my strongest not to fall on the floor from the disgusting stench.

“Hey, Jackson,” a voice called from Annie’s old bedroom. My old pal Prince Nelson, long-time friend and colleague. His short black hair barely swept over his eyebrows, his butterscotch skin being upturned into a small smile as he took another breath of his cigar, the smoke gently moving near his brown eyes.

“Princey boy, whatcha find?” 

“Nuthin. Not even a single fingerprint. This guy is real good.” 

“Hmph. Nothing?”

“There’s bloodstains on the carpet, but it’s fake. Her body was right in her own bed, no blood. Hey, man, before I go on, sorry ‘bout what happened to your girl.”

I sighed deeply, wiping away the ever-so-strong stench of death mixed with Prince’s smoke, “Hey, it’s alright, anything to do for her.”

Prince nodded. “If she were mine, I’d do it too. Say, there’s not really any evidence to suggest the motherfucker who went after Annie. Some other agency found something like that on another case on some darl named Billie Jean and failed it. They only got to one step, finding that the alias of the guy was a Mr. Big.”

“More like Mr. Big-Head,” I snickered, “Sounds familiar. No evidence left behind, huh?” The air became tense and somewhat constricting as I started to remember who the possible suspect might be. I snapped my fingers in realization. “Prince! You know of a Frankie Lideo going out anywhere tonight?”

“He’s a famous person around these areas, he’s gonna do a speech to commemorate a new club or somethin'. Club 30’s, I think.”

“That’s all I need Princey boy. We’re going to get this psychopath down tonight.”

A FEW HOURS LATER

“…And so, I now announce that Club 30’s is open for business!” Frankie Lideo announced proudly, a cheer erupting from everyone in the crowd (apart from me, Prince and my sister Janet, glaring at him through his glasses). According to our estimations, Jan looked like the best bait to catch out Mr. Big tonight.

“Mike,” she whispered, a concerned tone subtly hinting in her voice, “You owe me ‘bout a hundred fuckin bucks tonight after this if I come out alive. If not, you’re paying for the fucking funeral.”

“Jan, I swear on my own damn grave that you’ll come out alive from this. No way am I gonna let my favourite sister get killed.”

“And now,” our suspect called out, drawing our attention back to him, “To supply the very first tunes of the night, let’s give it up for Prince Nelson!”

Prince’s face was one I’ll never forget when his name was announced. Janet couldn’t stop giggling her head off as the applause came up when he walked on the stage, horrified expression still there. But thankfully, he started to sing, and it was one of his own personal tunes that he wrote when he had spare time, ‘Purple Rain’. 

It was only a minute into the song when Lideo came up to my sister and asked, “May I have this dance? If your brother won’t mind, of course.”

I was about to say something, but Jan put her hand on my arm, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be back soon.” And with that, she left the table and started to slow dance.

I didn’t have to wait long before trouble came.

Soon, I saw Frankie walk away from the floor and up a corridor with my sister following behind. Cocking the gun in my pocket, I stood up from my table and followed the two, being careful not to blow my cover, though it was harder to stay in the shadows when I had changed into a white suit with a blue shirt and armband for the opening.

Pulling the pistol out, I kept my back to the door that became instantly locked the moment Frankie and Janet went in. Keeping my ear to the cool wood, I stayed silent as a mouse as I listened to the conversation. 

“Here, before we go on, take these.”

“What do you mean by, ‘go on’, Lideo? And what the fuck are these?”

“Crack!” Lideo exclaimed proudly. I felt sick. I always hated drugs ever since the smell of cigarettes had reached my nose for the first time.

“Excuse me? You expect me to have a night out with you while having stuff that fucks up your brain? That’s utterly disgusting. Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Look here sweetie. If you don’t do it, I’ll have another added to my list of ladies who refused me and paid the price for it. I’m really big in that area, ya know.”

That was enough for me. I shot my pistol at the door handle and kicked it open, aiming at Mr. Big. “Hands up Lideo. You’re under arrest in the name of the law for murder and rape.”

“Oh, by the way,” Janet taunted, pulling the spare pistol out my other pocket, cocking and aiming it, “I forgot to mention: My brother is Michael Jackson, private detective.”

“I should have known,” Big growled, “That you would be here tonight. And I also know that I’ll see another day and you won’t!” He pulled out a desert eagle and aimed at the both of us. “Stick ‘em up, both of you!”

But Janet had other ideas. 

She shot the gun out of his hand, blood spilling out from it quickly. “Michael, this is your chance for Annie, I’ll alert the others.” And with that, she dashed off. Big however took this chance as a means of escape, he had barely made his upper body out an open window when I pulled him back in and held my pistol to his face.

“Surrender now Big Boy, if you’re willing to cooperate you’re going to find yourself real fuckin lucky when you get a 20-year jail sentence. If you don’t…” I left it hanging, but he didn’t get the message.

“You’s the one who’s gonna get a jail sentence. Right for killin’ your girl.”

“You son of a bitch. THIS IS FOR ANNIE!”

BANG!

***

I jumped out my thoughts as the director then at last closed in prayer. “…In the Lord’s Name, Amen.”

I sighed deeply as her coffin was being laid down into the ground, dirt gently flying in from everyone around. 

A few hours after the funeral, I was looking down sadly at the newly placed tombstone which had the words engraved on it:

HERE LIES ANNE WILKINSON

Girlfriend and Lover to Michael Jackson

1912-1934

Rest in Peace

I swallowed after reading the second line. Before the funeral I had asked if I could give one last thing to Annie before she would be buried.

The coolness of her hand will shake me to this day as I slipped the ring on her finger.