Detective John, a messy man with an equally messy desk, was sitting said disorganized desk when he got the call from Detective Charles, his well-respected colleague. " We have another murder.
32nd street." As soon as John heard the word "Murder", he shot up from his desk and swiped for his trench coat.
Slipping his left arm in first and sprinting out the door, he began thinking about what kind of situation this would be.
Easily cracked or hard to break? He would only know once he arrived at the scene of the crime. Hopping into his car, he quickly drove down to 32nd street, his mind racing.
Why did Charles give him so little info? Was he in a crunch for time?
The second that Detective John arrived at 32nd street, he instantly saw all of the police tape.
He looked over to see his colleague, Detective Charles, approaching him with his head pointed towards the crime scene.
John examined Charles expression and instantly knew this was going to be a hard case. Charles motioned for John to follow him, and so he did. Walking up to the crime scene, a cop stopped them.
John and Charles instinctively flashed him their badges and continued walking. The police man didn't stop them, but stood still.
The second they saw the scene, they knew what they were in for. The dead body of Jeff Walburg was laying there. His body was shredded by a blade, it was a truly horrific sight.
There were only 3 found pieces of evidence, and that was miraculous. Only three, in five hours! John and Charles were hit with a sinking feeling harder than a speeding semi.
This case may be their hardest yet. If not, the research team may just be complete garbage. John felt a hand on his shoulder.
"These buggers need to retake their training!" a voice behind him said. "Hello to you too, Henry." Henry responded with a chuckle.
"Like I said, even the newbies would do a better job than these lunatics."
After a week or so, John and Charles were able to investigate the two witnesses. First off, they questioned Jeff's next door neighbor. A tall, lanky, and downright odd man.
"Where were you at the time of the crime?" John questioned. "Watching TV, with my wife." He responded. Now this was interesting. According to the background check, he had no wife.
John was unable to keep a straight face, and rose a single eyebrow. "Oh! We're merely engaged! Sorry about that." John's only response was another question.
" Did you hear or see anything?" John knew what to say like the back of his hand. " No, I didn't know that anything happened until the next morning.
" The witness tried to read John's cold expression, but to no avail. "Where is your fiancee, currently?" The witness paused, thinking.
"Probably at our home, are you going to talk to her next?" John nodded in response.
An hour after the man left, his fiancee walked in wearing a bright red, knee high, strapless dress. John suspected that she would be no help, but he questioned her anyways.
He started the good ol' routine. "Where were you at the time of the crime?" She rolled her eyes. "I was at home, with my boyfriend.
Didn't he already tell you all of this?" John responded, "Legally, we have to get your side of the story.
" Her answer was an under her breath "Ugh" John was already sick of her, but he continued. "Did you hear or see anything?" He asked. "Yea, we heard Jeffs scream, but choose to ignore it.
I thought he was just watching a horror movie or something." Now this was sure interesting. A fault in their alibi was just what was needed to get this case rolling.
Although John was glad to have found a mistake, he kept his stone expression.
Another week passed with John and Charles examining and questioning everyone they could. Using the same routine every time.
Where were you? What were you doing? Did you know it happened? All that, and more. Over and over they asked the same questions. With similar answers every time. The dread was killing them.
One day, while they were all sitting at their desks, they each got a call.
" Detective Henry has been killed!" John shot up from his desk. His normal bags under his eyes had become darker and heavier than ever before, but he didn't care.
Grabbing his coat and briefcase, he ran out the door. A few rooms down, Charles got the call as well.
" Detective Henry has been killed!" Charles sat there in surprise for a few moments, before running to grab his coat. Stumbling and shaking, he ripped his coat off of the coat hanger.
John and Charles both ran through the hall in near perfect unison. John turned to Charles and spoke, "What if we're next?" and the thought of that, Charles stopped running.
That was something Charles never thought about.
What a wonderful idea! John was the best detective in the building, so if he died, there would be no one to stop him! Charles thought about how he would kill him.
Quick and quiet, or slow and painful? So many wonderful ideas! Charles made sure to keep a worried face on, to fool John into believing he was innocent. What an idiot!
Charles, having worked in the detective agency for years, knew every step of investigating a murder scene, and how to hide your identity.
Of course, bribing the investigators was also a perfectly solid technique. Charles picked back up the pace and continued running along with John.
Quickly arriving at Henry's office, they saw so many worried faces. Charles had quite a convincing shock on his face. With everyone perfectly convinced, he backed up slowly.
Charles looked over to John, seeing that he was absolutely mortified.
What a wonderful feeling this was! Across the hall, everyone heard a woman yell, "WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" After hearing this, all pandemonium broke loose.
Screaming, yelling, and crying could be heard throughout the entire hallway.
Two passed, and everyone was still shaken up. John was at home, looking through documents and files, trying to crack the case.
Rumors were spread, and people began to believe that John wasn't as good as they originally believed.
The thoughts of other people had never bothered John, but for whatever reason, he began to think lowly of himself.
"What if I've passed my prime?" "What if I'm just full of myself?" and "What if I'm just not a good detective?" Flew through John's head constantly.
Luckily, John was a go getter, and would get this case done if it was the last thing he did.
Charles sat there, silently watching John do his work. A chill ran down his back at the thought of killing him. A gust of wind flew past and nearly knocked Charles off his perch.
Watching John do his work was extremely boring, but it was all he could do. Waiting for the right moment, he bit his lip, worrying if he would fail.
"Ha! I could never fail! I've killed 32 people and never even left a hair!" he reassured himself. John yawned and began to pick up his papers. Finally Charles would have a chance to strike!
John quickly tidied up his work space and began walking towards his bed room. Charles waited, and once John had left, he slowly and quietly opened the window.
Without making a noise, he crept towards John's bedroom and waited. A faint mumbling could be heard from John's room.
Was he one the phone? Did he begin dating somebody? Charles wondered, but decided it didn't matter. John stopped talking and turned off his lights.
Charles waited another 30 minutes before entering Johns room. Charles couldn't help but smile. After all these years, he would kill the one man who could stop him.
Charles muttered to himself, "Sorry, old pall."
With that last remark, he swiftly brought the knife down towards John's throat. Quickly and skillfully, he sliced his throat so he couldn't make a noise.
Then, bringing the knife towards Johns face, Charles noticed something. The person, no, the thing he had been slicing at was, in fact, a dummy.
Swiping his hand on the light switch, John illuminated the entire bedroom. John had a scared, yet accomplished expression. Charles, on the other hand, was terrified.
John put his phone to his face and spoke, "He's here, come get him." Charles ran for John, but just before he could get him, a swarm of police burst through the doorway.
Before he knew it, Charles was pinned to the ground by four cops. Unable to move a single limb, Charles gave up.