Killer Undiscovered

Killer Undiscovered Late one night, the neighbor knocked on our front door and asked if we had seen his wife, Jess Olven. " Mrs. Olven? Oh, uh"¦no, I haven't seen her since yesterday, Mr. McKill." I said. "Nope, neither had I." Jan, my elder sister said. Mr. McKill turned to the corner and walked away without saying another word. Mrs. Olven had lived in the neighborhood for more than four years, before our family even moved here. I never liked her before. She found out that I had a boyfriend and reported it to my parents, she got me in deep trouble. I was used to calling her Mrs. Olven, but now I guess I should call her Mrs. McKill. " McKill is a very strange name." I thought to myself.

I shut the front door tightly.

It was all so obvious that Mrs. And Mr. McKill had a fight at approximately 3:00 a.m.

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yesterday. The fight woke up most of the neighbors. I heard screaming, yelling, and objects being thrown. No one was quite sure about what the fight was all about. The fight lasted about an hour long. I saw Mrs. McKill leave the house shortly after all of the commotion. I wasn't sure why she was leaving the house so early, but it was obvious that the fight caused her to leave so urgently.

A few days had passed already and no one has found any information about where Mrs. McKill is and what exactly has happened to her. Mr. McKill has reported his wife missing to the Police Department, but he has not old the police about the fight they had. The FBI found out about the fight from the neighbors and rumors. The FBI questioned Mr. McKill and suspected him.

In the police station, Mr. Mckill was sitting in the questioning room with two police officers. Mr. McKill sat nervously and was conciously chewing onto his fingertips. "Now, Mr. McKill, as you had heard, we are not here to do harm, we are here to help you solve the case of your wife. Tell us exactly what happened that morning" the first police officer said.

"Please tell us truthfully, Mr. McKill. It shall do you no good to lie. Why didn't you tell us about the fight you and Mrs. McKill had?" the second police officer said in a high-pitched voice. Mr. McKill didn't seem to like the second police officer as much as the first police officer. " Ahem! Well, I didn't report the FBI about the fight because I think it was private and embarrassing. As you may have investigated, I make a living by sewing.

My wife thought it wasn't a good"¦ let's just say "˜boy thing' to do, and she thought it was girly. She wanted me to stop sewing and find a more stabilized job. For many generations and generations, my ancestors had passed on the sewing abilities to everyone in my family. No one in my family has had any other kinds of jobs except for sewing, so my wife and I had argued. Shortly, my wife has left the house and took the car keys with her." He stopped to look up. The two police officers whispered to each other.

" You are free to go.' The police officers said in unison.

The next morning, pictures of Mrs. Mckill were all over the L.A.

Morning Newspaper. Recently, the story of Mrs. McKill's missing had also been in the news channel. Mr. McKill hasn't been sewing lately. He was in his house all day. It had been said that there were no noise or movements in his house.

People were to say that he missed his wife so much that he's gone crazy and locked himself up in his house. On the other hand, People say that he was the killer, and he might even be plotting up a story. Of course, no one can ever be sure of what Mr. McKill is doing in hat cold, dark, and creepy house. No noises in Mr. McKill's house in the night, not even in the morning. That was odd, because usually, most people would be able to hear a lot of noises in Mr. McKill's house.

School was like a public place, rumors spread throughout the district.

A police officer tapped me on the back. "Have you seen or heard anything about Mrs. McKill's incident? I heard that you are Mr. McKill's neighbor," said the police officer. They heard a horse scream coming from the opposite direction. The police officer raced over to the direction, I also raced over to see what was going on.

There it was, in the school trashcan, laid Mrs. McKill's decayed body.

The smell was horrible. People gathered from all over the campus. Some students fainted and some were surprised and interested. The police officers cleared out the area and everyone went back to what they were doing.

Mrs. McKill's funeral started a few days later. I attended her funeral.

"Mr. McKill, I feel very sorry about this incident." I said with my face down. "It's not your fault." Mr. McKill said sadly. I looked up at him right away. Then I spot a chair and so I hurried to sit on the seat.

After everyone has left the funeral, I held in my hand a white rose, and went to Mrs. McKill's coffin. "That's what you get." I threw the white rose at her coffin.

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