Murder in the City of Marylane

17. Ashley's?

I arrived at a factory. Sean leaves for Raven Police Station in a taxi. He told his colleagues on his team first to investigate this. Anyway, the serial killer started his act around here.

Based on Vivian's statement, she saw a lot of fabric in a factory. We narrowed it down to a shirt factory and a fabric factory. Sean's police and colleagues in Raven city are looking in a dress factory, while Harry and Dean are looking in a fabric factory. Harry and Dean I told you in detail what Vivian was talking about.

There are nine in total. The city of Raven has five fabric factories and four shirt factories. I think today is going to be a pretty long day.

I've been sent some locations that show fabric factories by Sean. He knows exactly.

 Me, Dean, and Harry are now in our first ever fabric factory. We will start with the question ‘have a girl ever been found asleep here?’. I think that's the only way we can find out.

“Excuse me, have you ever found a girl sleeping in this factory? I think one of your employees drove him home.”

“In the meantime, I'll ask.”

“Sorry, no.”

Second factory.

Third factory.

Fourth factory.

No, there is no result. I hope we find out the fact that it was at this fifth factory that Vivian fell asleep with one of her employees driving her home. This factory is located in the middle of a meadow that is not so high with a path.

“Excuse me, have you ever found a girl sleeping here? I think seven or six months ago. An employee of yours found it.”

“Nothing. There might be a girl coming in here. Go, don't interrupt.”

“Tapi—”

The middle-aged man left us.

“Juan, I don't think it's the fabric factory,” Dean said. “Mari hope that our captain friends find the factory in question.”

“Good.” I answered in a doldrums.

“Are you guys looking for that girl?”

We looked back. A woman in a special uniform walked over to us.

“You know it?”

“I heard your conversation earlier. And, yes, I know the girl. I drove him home.”

We breathed a sigh of relief.

“You didn't ask him anything?”

She shook her head. “He did not answer me,” he replied. “Omong-by the way, who are you?”

I showed you my police identity card. He nodded in understanding.

“Is this factory close to an alley or something?”

“Gang?” He frowned, looking like he was thinking. “There's one alley that's pretty close from here. You can go down that road and turn left. Maybe your car won't go in there. You can park it here.” He pointed with his index finger. “But, residents there are rare.”

“Good. How about a gas station or something?”

“There is no such thing in the area here. Gasoline station very far from here.”

“So. Alright, thanks for your information.”

I look around. I think this is the right path. There's a barbershop lamp that doesn't light up, just like Vivian said.

The narrow road is just a connecting road. We arrived at a house suddenly. Unlike housing in general, this housing looks quiet. No, not housing. Similar to shophouses, shophouses that are not inhabited for a long time.  This place looks a little shabby.

“Vivian said he smelled gasoline or something? There's no gas station here. Then, what?”

My eyes were on a place.

“Maybe not a gas station.”

“Then?”

I approached the shophouse. Looks like a former workshop. Some old tires and oil tracks show that.

“What are you looking for, Young Man?”

We three looked. A white-haired man—a grandfather—with his cane out of his place—ruko.

“We are from the police,” I said while showing our police identity. “Omong-by the way, have these shophouses been without inhabitants for a long time?”

“There are only a few depopulated shophouses. Some people who originally lived here moved. We stayed here because we had nowhere to stay. Usually, factory people come here to rest too.”

“So.” My hands are holding my chin, trying to think. “What is this former workshop?” I asked while looking at the shophouse I meant.

Grandpa nodded. “She moved out about a month or two ago. Ah, Sches, he's a good boy. I'm very close to him.”

“Sches? He's the owner?” ask Harry. The grandfather nodded again.

“Did you hear strange things six months ago?” my many.

“My attention is weak. I can't possibly remember it.” He showed a row of awkward teeth, his hands not separated from the wooden stick that had been lacquered.

I nodded in understanding.

“That guy, Sches, where did he move to?”

 “I forgot ...” Her net was looking up, trying to remember. “I guess the place name is Lane ... What Lane, yes?”

“Marylane?” guess Dean. The grandfather nodded enthusiastically and pointed at us with his wrinkled index finger.

“Really! That's it!” yells.

“You know where the address is, exactly?”

“I've sent him something. I'll write for you in a moment.”

It didn't take long, the grandfather finally gave us a paper containing the address. He's the culprit. The way home Vivian described back then, was similar to the one we passed now. We left, and did not forget to thank the old man. I feel sorry for that grandpa.

“Come, we have to catch him.”

We ran, approached our car and were about to return to our city. It was already dark, and it would even change days a few hours later. We have to catch him this time. I opened the car door. My hand moved to get the phone. We were about to inform the captain, but my movements stopped when I saw a message someone had sent some time ago. I didn't check it because my phone was silent.

I opened the message. Suddenly my heart beats rapidly, my hands tremble.

Ashley, the girl. I knew he was going to do something. What are you thinking, Ashley?!

Unknown

Hi, Detective. I'm Ashley Cleva. I'm trying to help you because I feel guilty for Aisha. I'll lure the culprit and bring him in front of you. I'll go catch him. Maybe I need your help, so I sent you something to the police station. This message was sent on a scheduled basis, because I knew you wouldn't allow it. I may have met the criminal when you just received this message. Excuse me.