“The Red Tomatoes - A Murder Mystery,” by Zyra Kapur: February 2025 2nd Place

“Yes, I’m aware I’m crazy. I like to think the job required it, actually.” I grumble into the phone.

“That’s excellent,” snorts my parole officer, “now repeat after me. I will not fling ketchup at random shoppers in the supermarket.”

“Oh you’re hilarious,” I sneer into the phone, “anyway, It could have been a clue.”

“Oh, sure, a clue. Now, it’s called house arrest, so better get used to it Ms. Assassio di Pomodori.”

“It was just KETCH-,” I shout, but the line cut, my voice replaced by a loud buzz.

“It was just ketchup,” I mutter to myself, prodding at the small ankle bracelet clipped on my leg. Sighing, I haul myself up off the worn couch and stride into the kitchen.

Coffee, expresso, three sugars, and a splash of cream. Sliding my hand into a drawer, I tug out a tattered evidence board, its skin pierced by colorful pins. This case has been haunting me for years. It’s another Hound of Baskerville, if you will. Four years ago, when I began working for district six, a mother came in, wailing and sobbing. Her daughter, Lila, had been murdered. Since then, I’ve been working on her case. My very first case. I’ve inspected every detail of the house, every security camera, but nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I gaze at the selfie I’ve seen a million times. A girl with dark black hair, her eyes closed as she mouths the words to her favorite song. Her plump, tomato red cheeks are split into a wide grin, one hand gripping a bright pink hairbrush.

I stumble into the bathroom, and detangle my hair with a rosy brush. Why would I have chosen such a hideous color? Staring at it, it seems familiar. I stare and stare, and suddenly, I know. Down to the last missing bristle, I know it’s Lila’s brush. It makes sense, I would know how to get away with murder. I was a detective after all.