Chapter 1 - Rough Beginnings
Jasmine raced down the stairs, huffing and puffing as she navigated her way through the living room. Andrew, her husband, gestured at the door, an obvious hint of urgency in his actions. Not waiting another second, he ran out the door jumping into his Akura NSX and turning the key; his car gave out a large roar as the 245 horsepower engine jumped to life.
"Woman, if you don't get in this car this second you can walk to the bureau in the rain!" he yelled, and as if he cast a magical spell, out ran his wife, a bumbling huffing mess of a person.
She too jumped in, and managed to compose herself. "Finall-" he said, stopping himself from completing the line as he saw the death stare his wife had aimed at him, deciding to finish the thought in his head.
Jasmine had noticed that her husband was excessively impatient today, over the last few years she had spent with him, she had grown accustomed to it but occasionally even her patience would be tested and frankly put, he stood no chance when that happened.
She assumed that an interesting case had been assigned to him, or maybe he had been called to the office by the Chief - regardless, if he refered to her as "woman" again, she'd make sure he'd be the one to resemble a woman - physically rather then mentally. It took just a single stare and he understood the message.
Sheeplishly, he asked whether putting on some music would be ok, to drown out the monotonous, verbose rain. He was just met with a cold smile which slowly transitioned into a face filled with disgust. She was unaware that Andrew was a fan of the Nickelbacks, recently voted the worst band of all time, but that wasn't all she missed, this was simply Andrew's way of pulling her leg, an awful way of approaching the situation as he had subjected himself to a journey of half-arsed entertainment.
The rest of the journey to the bureau was filled with a silence, a common occurence on days such as these when their moods were at their sourest.
They soon came to a halt and both stepped out the car and walked past the double doors of the marble building. Usually they'd be asked for ID, but Andrew had developed a reputation that came with a few perks, such as a better office and occasionally the looks of a few ladies to the dismay of his wife.
She took her seat in the reception and picked up The Independent for a light read.
He approached the elevator and pressd the cold metal button; after a few grunts and groans the door slid open and shut just as slowly. There was no one but him in the elevator, leaving him to his own thoughts. "Surely it's not bad news" he thought, he was by far the best detective on the force, losing him would seriously affect business.
He managed to convince himself that he was simply being praised for his latest feat - he'd been able to catch the criminal behind a drugs monoply which no other detective had come close to solving. "Hmm, it must be something good" he repeated to himself, an inkling that he was in for a new case.
As the dull grey doors slowly opened, Andrew snapped out of his thoughts and began heading along the corridor. He kept his head down, observing the crimson carpet that lay on the mahogany floorboards; they creaked quietly as he approached the Chief's office, the only noise to interrupt the heavy silence. He reached the door, took a moment to collect his thoughts and entered. "Here we go."
A dark wood bookcase lined the entire left-hand wall of the Chief's office, along with a leather sofa with a fur rug over the back and an Indian blanket draped over the arm. A big fireplace and mantle dominated the far wall, which was flanked on either side by bookcases. Two ancient clocks and a painting of orchards and fields adorned the mantle. On the shelf to the right, there was a television, although it was only used for XM radio. In front of that shelf is a dark walnut upright piano and bench. An abstract artwork of jazz players hangs over the piano on the wall. The wreckage of scholarship was strewn about the workplace. Books were piled high and manila files sat atop a tall mission oak table beneath the windows. His desk had a computer hooked up to a laser printer on a small end table near him.
Chief Hunt was different to previous bosses Andrew had. He was a man of fair stature, with jet black hair; a simple beard and a pair of old glasses. Despite his age, his looks truly made him look decades younger. He was neither stuck up nor did he exude an air of superiority over his subordinates. He was a simple man really, interested in scholarly hobbies such as reading and writing and took the time to appreciate the creative arts. He expected just three things : punctuality, manner and attitude.
"You sure took your time Wright, it's in your interests to not keep me waiting. Wether you're the best we have or you're like Simmons who works in archives, I'm not afraid to reinforce the rules against anyone. Do I make myself clear?"
The answer was obvious, a simple nod was all Andrew needed. He sat down in an old leather chair opposite to the Chief.
"Moving on, we had reports that someone has been found dead in St Ivre, Cornwall, washed up on shore. The forensics suggest that they were shot through the head and that there was a struggle". The Chief passed him the files
"That's strange" thought Andrew as he flicked though the photos and reports "We've had multiple incidents like these within the last month. Do you think it might be the work of a bigger organisation - perhaps the Clerkendale Crime Syndicate?; recent digging have shown that they've managed to spread their influence down south."
"And that's why you're on the case Wright", replied Chief Hunt "We need you to investigate as you're the most familiar when it comes to murders. You have 2 weeks before the case is handed to the police so be sure to catch the soonest train to Cornwall - it'll be a rough time."
"Wait a second, why aren't there any suspects in the file, that must have been a mistake" debated Andrew, even the hardest of cases had a lead.
"You see" replied Chief Hunt, "Despite numerous reports, no one has managed to identify any likely targets. We think that someone is doing their best to cover up what's been happening. What worries me is that Hàorán Zhoa, a detective sent to work in the area a month ago, hasn't reported back, we've had no contact since he departed. Be sure to kee your eyes peeled and try to bring him back."
Detective Wright stood up. "I'll do my best Chief Hunt, in addition, before I head of, I wish that a copy of the files is sent to my office - I want to try and find any patterns or clues which may reveal some truths before heading out."
"I'll organise that, dismissed."
Andrew bowed before the Chief before leaving the office. He immediately knew that even he would find this case a challenge regardless he felt excited; a childish joy which he hadn't felt for a long time. He was the most efficient, the sharpest, the most creative. He was the best and if anyone wads going to crack this case it would be him. He took the stairs down, met up with Jasmine and headed out the grey double doors leading outside.
"This is going to be fun."