DANE

I turned on the study light that was on my table, and took my laptop out to try and note what I found on from the car accident. I still couldn't figure out who gave me the note. It's been days and I've been staying up and looking out for the last name "Russo" but I couldn't find anything. I also tried to figure out where this diamond symbol came from, but still nothing. My phone lit up, and starting vibrating rapidly. I picked up the call.

Lieutenant Steele: "Dane, we found high levels of toxicity in the man's blood. The toxicologists came and tested his blood."

Dane: "Do you know who that man was?"

Lieutenant Steele: "Yes, Yusef Osman. He was drugged merely hours before the accident. It was injected into him; in his spinal cord."

Dane: "Hm. Does he have anything on his criminal records?"

Lieutenant Steele: "nope. Nothing at all; respected citizen. There were some bruises and marks around his wrists, but we need to do an autopsy to figure out if it's from the car accident or not."

Dane: "that's weird. So the note wasn't from him."

Lieutenant Steele: "Yes. I'm guessing there's a third party involved. Dane I want to make sure you're staying safe. That note was targeted towards you."

Dane: "Lieutenant, I assure you nothing will happen to me. It's just a simple case that we will get over."

Lieutenant Steele: "Walton I am serious. Please stay safe."

Dane: "did he own the car?"

Lieutenant Steele: "Yes, he owned the car"

Dane: "There's a chance he could have inflicted this on himself."

Lieutenant Steele: "well the chances aren't looking good. We will contact his family."

Dane: "alright." *****

Maybe I should do some research on this "Yusef Osman". Who knows maybe he's a drug addict that knows a Russo and a Dane Marchetti. But that doesn't make any sense. The note referred to me as Dane Walton first. While browsing around on his name, I found some files from him. I tried scrolling down to find his handwriting. But to my surprise, the note, and his handwriting were two completely different styles. One was cursive, and one was print writing style. I was positive the note wasn't from him. So I'm still stumped on the hunt for Russo.

On a positive note, I ordered socks for my Djungelskog. Yes, it's a fucking bear plushie, but I consider it my child now. I have been tracking the delivery for the past few days, while also researching on this crazy case, and it is moving slower than the snail I killed 30 minutes ago. But it should be here right now. Like it says.
Yes! I hear the doorbell ring, and let it linger for a few seconds so that it doesn't feel like I have been on my tippy toes for some baby socks. I went outside to collect the box, but I noticed something in my mailbox. What can that be?

I unfolded the envelope, and inside was a black and gold note with big letters saying "IN MEMORY OF ARTHUR DAUNTRIDGE". That was our town mayor, and he was the son of the man that named the town. Yes, he was old, but not that old. He was 63 years old. I read some more.
'Arthur was a committed, respectful, and kind man, who lived a long and happy life. He unfortunately passed away in a tragic accident in his own home. Let's all get together to remember the loving life of our Town Mayor, Arthur Dauntridge. We invite you to his funeral, to cherish and remember him.'

Two deaths in a week is not great. Especially in a town. Not good. The address was listed, and the funeral was in a few days. I should go. He was a good man. On the bottom of the page, was the dress code; which was obviously black, thank god, because if it was anything else I would've cried myself to sleep. But on a good note, this would be a perfect way to catch up with Natasha again, because I'd need to buy some flowers for him. Her shop would be booming with customers, one, for Valentine's Day, and two, for the mayors funeral.
I took the funeral invitation and the small Amazon box into my home, and unboxed it. It was lovely on my Djungelskog's feet. It was baby pink, with lace on the rim of it. It was perfect, but maybe I should stick to spending my money on things that I really need.

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Since my research wasn't going so well on the whole Russo and diamond and Yusef Osman thing, maybe I should spend my time going to Natasha's flower shop. Hopefully she's in there, because maybe she'd give me a good recommendation. I grabbed the keys off from the table, and walked to my car, opening the door, and shifting the gears.

The whole situation was foggy. Did Yusef Osman have no choice but to crash? If he was drugged merely hours before the accident, why was he conscious? And the first thing he decided to do was drive, with the note in there? I needed more information to get to a conclusion. After minutes of steering and turning the wheel left and right, with a few stops here and there, I was finally outside of her shop. When I got out, I knew instantly that she was in there. Her silky black hair, slightly downturned puppy green eyes, sweet lips, everything the same way I last saw her.
"Natasha!"
"Dane? Oh my god!" She squealed. "Why are you here?"
I frowned. "The mayors death, you know. I need some flower recommendations."
"Oh. . . Yeah. Well, I think Lillie's are a go-to. They're classic. But-" She said, pointing her finger up, "Orchids and Hydrangeas are great too!"
"Hm. Well you've got to show me them. I have no idea what they are."
She tugged me over to another section of her shop, and described each one of them in depth to me. How can Ian fumble so badly. She is such a perfect woman. I would do anything to kiss those soft lips again.
"I think those Lillie's and those Orchids look nice. Hydrangeas are a little. . ."
"Yeah. You picked the prettiest ones." She furrowed her eyebrows and looked at me precariously, "do you mind me asking about what happened at that car accident? I saw you broadcasted on Live TV"
"I would, Natasha. But it's confidential. And it's better off if you don't know anything about it."
She presses her lips together. "Yeah I get it. Is that all?"
"Probably. He'd be getting a bunch of flowers, I wouldn't really make a difference. Are you going to the funeral?" I asked.
"Yeah, I am. I'll probably bring over the same flowers too. It's just a classic for funerals."
"Well, I'll see you at the funeral, Natasha." I exhaled, while running my fingers through my hair.
"Bye Dane; again!" She chuckled.
"Bye Natasha." I said.
I spun the car keys around my finger, and swung the car door open. Yusef Osman, Russo, notes, car accident, can I connect the dots? Maybe Russo and Yusef worked together. But that wouldn't make any sense. Why was he drugged. I'm back at the same place again. Maybe I won't be able to solve this one.

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I got back home; in a good mood, because Natasha's smile would brighten up anybody's day. When I went to go put the keys back, I found a note, precisely underneath the rose that Natasha gave me. Fuck my life. I grabbed the note. I was horrified. The person walked into my house while I was gone, and didn't leave a trace except for this note. It read:

'I killed Arthur Dauntridge at 11:19 pm last night, I watched him doze off, I watched him die. Oh! And drugged Yusef Osman by his neck and told him his pregnant wife was in labour. So, here's the thing, Yusef was speeding because his wife was in the hospital, and I slipped that note in there just for you, Dane. I knew he would kill himself on that road. It's a lethal curve if you're going fast enough. And I love the fact that the pole is exactly where I want it to be in. Oh, and not to mention, yes, the drug was wearing off slowly, but the effects motivated sweet Yusef to speed even more. Your Lieutenant is working hard, trying to figure out who I am, but she'll never figure it out. I can tell you're working hard to figure out who I am too, but you will never know, Dane Marchetti. Rimani al sicuro!'

It was the same handwriting again, with the same diamond, with the same signature, and the same motive. And now I'm even more concerned. Because he didn't mistake who I am. I'm Dane Walton! My name is Dane fucking Walton. Not Dane Marchetti. I looked around my house to see if there was anything suspicious. Maybe he could've left something else. All the hairs in my body shot up. What if he's put cameras in my house. Fucking Russo. Not only was I on my tippy toes for some pink lace socks, I am now on my tippy tippy toes for a man with the last name; Russo.

But at least now I'm getting closer to uncovering who he is.