Matilda S (Year 12)

“Hey, Granny! I’m home!”
Clara stepped in through the door and tossed her bag onto the floor. Her voice echoed through the walls and was met with silence.
“Granny?” Clara called out in a frightened voice.
Clara slowly made her way towards her grandmother’s room, carefully taking her steps as though the world would crack under the pressure of her foot. When she made it to the bedroom door, she found it ajar. Clara raised a shaking hand and pushed the door open.
Lying on the floor in the middle of the room, on a blood-stained carpet, was her grandmother, with a knife sticking out of her back. Clara’s breath caught in her throat. A shiver went up her spine. She backed out of the room and ran for her phone.
“And, and… that’s why I called you,” Clara said to the policeman who was jotting down notes as she finished telling him what had happened. “There was also this note next to the body telling me to take the knife, but I didn’t because of, you know, forensics. Here’s the note.” The policeman grabbed the note and squinted at it.
“And you’re sure that you didn’t see anybody coming out of the house when you came back from university?” the policeman asked. Clara shook her head and swallowed.
“Hmmm… well, okay then. We found your grandmother’s will; it says that all her stuff belongs to the next of kin, which is you,” he said. “Umm…do you want to say anything else?” The police officer said, not knowing what to do next. Clara rolled her eyes. They both paused for a moment.
“Who killed her?” Clara asked.
“Sorry, we can’t tell you anything,” he said with a bored look on his face. Another police officer walked into the room and asked the other one to follow him into the corridor. Clara stayed, picking up snippets of their conversation.
“She could’ve done it… don’t trust her too much…”
Back at home a week later, she was storing away all of her grandmother’s things in the basement. While picking up a framed photo of her as a ten-year-old holding her grandmother’s hand, she burst into tears. She ran out of the basement and dialled a number.
A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Clara rushed to open it. Standing on her doorstep was Lucy: a blonde girl about Clara’s age. She had a happy grin on her face, which dropped immediately after she saw Clara’s downcast face.
“What’s wrong, Clara?” she asked. Clara burst into tears. Lucy guided Clara towards the couch and sat her down.
“Clara, take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong,” Lucy said patiently. Clara told her how she had found her grandmother dead on the floor, how the police wouldn’t tell her anything and how she thought that they were accusing her of killing her grandmother.
“Oh, Clara,” Lucy said sympathetically. She paused and thought for a second. “Wait, aren’t your parents still alive?”
Clara hadn’t thought about that for ages. Her parents had gone missing when she was ten and had not been seen since. A few months after their disappearance, the police got a call saying that Clara’s parents were dead. When Clara had finally accepted the fact that her parents had died, she started getting letters, signed off anonymously, but as time went on, they were signed off by Isabella and Mateo Diaz. She recognised her parents’ curly handwriting and name immediately. She never told the police as she thought it would get her parents into trouble and the notes would stop.
Clara sighed. “Don’t tell the police, but yes, they have been on the run for eleven years, writing me notes every week since about a year ago.”
“You know what this means, right, Clara?” Lucy asked hopefully.
Clara stared at her blankly.
“Look, your grandmother’s will said that the next of kin would inherit all of her possessions, right? Well, because you are the ‘next of kin’, the police accused you instantly. But if your parents are really alive, that means that they would be the next of kin. And if they are really alive, that means they faked their death. But why would they fake their own death? Well, your grandmother is the wealthiest person in Victoria, and a lot of people have attempted to get her money. If your parents are really dead, they obviously wouldn’t get the inheritance; you would. So that’s why you were the main suspect. But if you can prove to them that your parents are still alive, you will be let off the hook.” Lucy explained.
“Wait, you don’t mean…?” Clara stared.
“Yes, Clara. Your parents were the real killers of your grandmother.”