A short story written by Akshay Rao
Sara parked her beat up Honda Civic two spots next to the matte black Lexus RX in the office parking lot. She was always the second to arrive after Ralph and today was no different. As president and owner of the company, Ralph savoured the luxury ride of a high-end SUV but clearly did not value proper parking etiquette. Time and again the RX took up one and a half parking spots.
Once inside, she dropped her purse on her desk chair. At 7 am in the morning, Ralph would have started drinking his second coffee of the day. His standard choice was a 150 mL Colombian concoction that his fancy Nespresso machine spit out. She could see the lights on in his office from her cubicle. As the president’s assistant, she had the privilege – more of an annoyance, if you asked her – to work close to him.
Sara picked up the assortment of forms and contracts that needed signatures off her desk and walked over to the shut door of Ralph’s office.
“Ralph, are you in there?” No sound came back at her. She tried again but still nothing.
“I’m coming in, Ralph.” She turned the door handle and pushed inward. At the center of his large oak desk, she saw his keys, a large coffee cup, an open container of branded coffee whitener, and an assortment of books.
Ralph’s prized book collection was inside the walk-in closet at the far-right end of his office. He always took out a few books in the morning to accompany him throughout the day. Today, she saw one of his favourites, Meditations by Marcus Aurelius, lay atop the book pile. Inside the closet was also his personal safe that secured unknown treasures. The door to the closet was designed so that it would close and lock automatically from the outside.
Sara placed the papers on his desk and picked up the keys. The coffee cup had just a little bit of the beige mixture remaining. There were three keys on the keyring: one very clearly for his car outside and two other identical ones that were for the office door and the closet.
At the closet door, she tried calling again. “Ralph, are you in there?” A few more knocks but no response.
“I’m coming in.”
She tried the first key and turned it all the way. She pushed the heavy door until it got stuck about halfway. Something on the other side was blocking its arc. Squeezing herself through the opening she looked behind the door to see a body lying on a large off-white bean bag chair. Ralph’s arms and legs were hanging off it ominously.
His head was turned to the right with a blood red stain clearly painting the bean bag beneath it. In black permanent marker, a cue card stuck to his forehead read the words “Bonnie and Clyde.” The key to the safe sat in his right hand.
She nudged him gingerly. “Ralph? Wake up, Ralph.” The body lay still. A few more attempts to wake the man was useless.
Sara reached over the body and grabbed the first edition paperback issue of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone off the bookshelf on the left wall. The book was valued at just under $20,000.
—
A few hours later, Sara sat across from her colleague, Graham, outside the office building at a picnic table. She pulled out a toffee from her purse, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. The police had cordoned off the building and instructed them both to wait nearby. Graham had arrived minutes after she discovered what was now clearly a dead president. A police officer was eyeing them carefully from 20 feet away.
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Graham said in shock.
“I think he must have hit his head on the bookshelf. You know he’s tipsy sometimes on Monday mornings. You saw his parking when you got here.”
“It’s so sad,” Graham sighed. “To die with his favourite books because he drank too much at the party last night.”
“He was at a party?”
“We were at Ryan’s place. I left early to get some sleep but they were just about to start playing that game from The Office. That’s why the cue card was taped to his forehead. You know, the super cringy episode where Michael Scott forces everyone to play racist charades on diversity day? Instead of ‘Asian’ or ‘Black,’ someone must have been trying to make Ralph guess that he was Bonnie and Clyde.”
Sara chuckled. Graham looked up at her in disbelief. “Sorry, Graham. I know it’s not right to laugh given the situation. But, I was just remembering the episode.”
“No, I get it. It’s been a crazy morning. I don’t blame you.”
They sat together silently for a few minutes. Finally, Graham said, “I’m gonna see if they will let me get my copy of Broken Genius from my desk. I don’t know how long they’re gonna keep us here.”
As he got up, Graham noticed something that sent a chill down his spine. His body knew how Ralph wound up dead but his brain took a few extra seconds to put it all together. It wasn’t a drunk president with head trauma that was dead inside the office. It was a murdered man who was poisoned by a co-worker.“Sara,” Graham’s voice broke. “Why are you hiding Ralph’s coffee whitener in your purse?”
This short story was originally submitted as an assignment in October 2024 for the Writing Mysteries and Thrillers creative writing course at Western University.
Akshay Rao 