A Party to Die For

Black Dahlia's death is still unsolved. 300-word flash.

A Party to Die For

“Where is everyone?” Dahlia asked the shadowy figure.
“There is no one here but you.”
“I thought this was supposed to be a party?”
“It is, a party of two.”
“Did all the other guests stand you up?”
“No, I just didn’t invite any others.”
Dahlia began to be afraid. Why wouldn’t her mysterious host show her his face?
“Come this way, my dear. The food and drink are waiting.”
“You will be joining me, I hope. I simply hate to eat alone.”
“Of course, my sweet. This way…”
They sat at either end of a long table. Her host was in shadow, while she was brightly lit by candles. Silent servants served the food and drinks. Since they were too far apart for adequate conversation, they didn’t speak.

After they were finished, her elusive host appeared at her elbow.
“Will you join me in the garden for a stroll?” he asked
Dahlia, in spite a fissure of dread, agreed. As they walked and talked, she still could not see his face. They paused in a small grotto. Before she could question him, she was dead by his hand.
So, she was not to know she would become a famous cold case that still hasn’t be solved. He moved her of course, to deflect suspicion from himself. The papers soon dubbed her “The Black Dahlia” and splashed her all over their headlines.
The law was under-informed and did not have the means of investigation they were to have later, so the case died quickly, just like she did. Was she buried somewhere where she could be contacted by spirit seekers? Perhaps it doesn’t matter to anyone but me anymore.
I have my own suspicions, but absolutely no proof. So, I continue to mourn and plot.