Four Statues and a Cannon
What called me back here? That question played in my mind every week since I first found my way here. It was a quiet cemetary in the center of town, gas lights running along the periphery cast long shadows from short headstones.
I never took the time to read the names. Nobody I knew had been buried here, and nobody I cared for ever would be. What awaited us was a small ceremony and a hot fire, but we wouldn't have it any other way.
My wandering, as always, wound its way to the statues. Four of them, weathered with age and wreathed in vines like once great kings would be. One of them had lost his head to, according to the Gravekeepers Guild, a rogue cannonball.
Three months ago, to the day, I had met Francis, or more affectionately Seance, at my home. He had broken in and surprised me when I brought Helene home. That night had been pouring it down and he asked me, with his soft, puppy eyes, and wearing my bathrobe, to stay the night. I could have said no. Maybe I should have, but he had a way with words and I was looking forward to the bedroom with Helene so I let him stay.
The next morning I found myself satisfied but feeling the effects of the three slugs of bourbon from last night. While Helene freshened up, I tell you, she was a sight with her long hair, tempting lips, and legs that she wrapped around you and pushed you about with in her sparkling red number that could hypnotize any man - while she freshened up I took another slug from the bedside table to join his compatriots and had preoared myself for the day.
Seance, and the situation with Helene, too long for me to tell you here, Seance is writing his report on that one, had convinced me to help him figure out why people had stopped being murdered. I'll confess it had baffled me, my business being finding killers and all, but I had thought it just another storm to weather until someone managed to kill someone with a stabbing or a shooting. That led me to this place while Seance went to The Poppy Hotel chasing his own leads.
The Gravekeepers had left me a note, no murders, a lot fewer deaths, they too were strugglimg for business. So I went and asked them some questions, took down a report, and headed out to find Helene and enjoy a night out again. Even then I had not been able to get the statues out of my head.
When I dreamt they smiled down at me.
When I drank they stared at me from the bottom of the glass.
When I closed my eyes they loomed like silent judges.
"What brings you back here Kill?" A familiar voice, raspy and confident sounded next to me.
"Yvonne." I looked at her, she was a great detective, heavy-set and built from breaking down doors and taking names, "I've not been able to get these out of my head."
She nodded and looked up at them too. The vines very nearly looked like great claws trying to pull the statues down. Rage was all I could think of in this light.
"Seance likes these statues too you know? Took me here when I joined the Union all those years back. I think he was looking for one of his ghosts." I laughed and nodded. It seemed the place. A few minutes later she left to head back to work and I stood alone. Another statue for the circle. They were trying to tell me something. Something that needed my help.
That last thought snapped me out of it. Seance's ghosts must have gotten to me.
"If you four need me," I said the the assemblage, "Leave me a card at Union House and I'll get back to you. Name of Killian B Hackshaw."
I turned and left the four of them standing there. Sure to get them out of my head and be done with this whole thing.
I won't tell you how it ends.
But I saw them again a few days later with less slugs of booze and a few more lead in me.
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It sure has been a while. Forgive me any errors, I am writing this on a train and without spell check.
Thank you @flashfictionfridayofficial for a wonderful prompt that let me spend some time with two of my detectives.
As always feedback is greatly appreciated.























