I made every effort to be quiet as I walked past the king size bed towards the closet. Though I knew there was no one else in the house, I still didn't want to take the chance of being caught. The closet stretched the length of half the room. It had two dark mahagony wood panelled doors, each with a square shaped knob on it. I opened both doors to the elaborate closet. Beautiful, expensive suits in browns and blacks hung neatly, one behind the other. Above on the shelf, boxes were arranged in a row. I figured they held ties, tie pins, cuff links and the such. I grabbed the first box and began my search. I was right. The tie pins, the cuff links were arranged neatly in this box - ornate items, all in metallic shades of bronze and gold. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I put the first box back and grabbed the second. In it were more ties, neatly folded of various striped, paisley and criss-cross patterns. Digging through, once again, nothing out of the ordinary. I went through two more boxes with the same result.
I put the last box back on the shelf and found it wouldn't go all the way in. It was hitting against something. I pulled it off and reached my hand up, putting it on the shelf, feeling around. I felt another box - a little smaller than the others and pulled it down.
I put the larger box I had in my hand back and focused in on this one. I pulled off the lid and noticed the usual that I had been finding. I rifled through, my mind half on the task at hand and half on what I should concentrate on next in this investigation when I touched on a white handkerchief with gold trim. There were initials embroidered on one corner: SK. SK?
Things suddenly became crystal clear. I pored eagerly through the rest of the contents of the box - two gold cuff links with the same initials of SK engraved on them, a silk tie, and lastly a gold watch. I looked it over on the outside, then on the inside. Engraved on the inside were the words: "To my youngest son, Solomon Keith...". A shot of adrenaline went through me. I was still clutching the handkerchief.
Solomon Keith Guthrie. The latest victim of the Crescent City serial killer.
I had finally hit the jackpot. My hunch had been right and the house I now stood in belonged to a killer. I shook my head, a huge grin spreading across my face.
I had the proof I needed. Now to cinch this case.
This post is in response to a prompt at Red Writing Hood that asks to write about finding a lost article of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet including information on how the item was found, what it is, and why it's so meaningful to you or your character.