Are you killer? No. You are. (Book 2) ✔️

Chapter 1

I reached the office exactly on time but don't know why they still told me to wait near the reception area. I guess it's a patience test.

The office has two rooms. One appears to be a head's cabin as it's having a danger sign on it. Another is a larger room probably for parties after murders.

I mean after solving murders.

"He's super busy today, sorry that you've to wait like this," says the receptionist sitting around a desk just next to me.

I get up from my seat and whisper in her ear, "You know I can see through those half glass doors that he's sitting alone in the cabin."

"Yes, he's busy thinking. You know that's the most important part in this kind of work," she says like it's gospel truth.

After a few minutes the bald man in his fifties, unable to control his ballooning fat and wait for the superdetective: me, steps out of the cabin.

I get up from my seat to greet him but he ignores me and turns to the receptionist. "Send the next one."

Really? I've been waiting for an hour here. I have seen only 3 people come in. 2 being in front of me and third in front of them: Me.

Hearing "Okay sir," from her, the man turns towards the door. "Who the hell put it out here?" he shouts, peeling off the danger sticker on the door.

I follow him inside and I take a seat in front of his desk.

"Olivia Denver, you've applied for a very demanding role. What makes you think you can do it?"

Ah. No Hi hello good mornings. It's not that I'm interested in this old man but hey that's how the interview of Mike Ross starts in the Suits right?

"Mr. " I try to recollect his name that I heard just 24hrs ago. But no luck.

The man taps on the nameplate on his desk. Which I find totally unnecessary because I was just going to look at it as per my superdetective instincts.

"Sorry I can't read Russian," I say, narrowing my eyes on the nameplate.

The man flips it and keeps it back. Woh magic!! It's in English now.

"Mr. Ralph Waldo. I've been through hundreds of cases and I've solved all of them before the protagonist does." I say to him, "on the second watch," I say to myself.

"You've written the names of top movies in your CV too," he says with a straight face, confusing me on why he is not astonished.

He puts three photographs on the desk. "Solve this murder. You have five minutes." He presses a digital stopwatch on the desk and the countdown towards zero begins.

In the first photo, a girl with 18 on her birthday cake is surrounded by all happy people except the three. Two being her parents and the third a boyfriend of her age.

In the second photo, the same girl is lying on her bed with dead eyes. The birthday knife is held by her left hand wet in blood. Some white powder-like substance is around her lips and chin.

In the third photo, the boyfriend is sitting on a hospital bed. A policeman is holding his T-shirt up that reveals a bandage on the boy's stomach.

I take the photos in my hands and look at each photo for a minute. And then I just count 3..2..1 DEMON!!

It's a Plain Vanilla case. The boyfriend proposed to the girl on her birthday. She rejected him. He got furious and attacked her with a knife. In self-defense, she stabbed him in his stomach. But he finally killed her.

Huh! He gave me five, I just solved it in three. I look at him with a smile but his face was still devil-like serious.

I guess reading books like Da Vinci Code put behind him on the shelf can do that to anyone.

Which got me thinking, the bald man sure doesn't look handsome but certainly has the wits to read such a complex book. So he certainly won't give me so simple case.

Think harder, Olivia. You're certainly missing something.

I take the photos back in my hand and did another round. Nope. Nothing. It's a simple murder case. I put all photos back on the desk.

My eyes fall on the nameplate. Oh! It was English, not Russian. It's just the nameplate was put upside down. Huh! deception of perception.

Shit! This is it! This case is it's put upside down, a deception of perception. He didn't try to kill her. She tried to kill him.

With an ear-to-ear smile, I gazed at Mr. Ralph. "It's not murder. It's suicide."

He stops the countdown with still 1 minute left on the timer. "Explain."

"At her birthday party, everyone is happy except the three. Her parents and the boyfriend. Because they know her secret. She's a drug addict.

Her boyfriend advises her to stop taking drugs. But she argues back this time even harder cause she's now 18, an adult free bird. The conversation heats up and in rage, she stabs him with the birthday knife.

After a while when she cools down she realizes her mistake of stabbing him. Guilt takes over, she takes in some drugs which doesn't help. In desperation, she overdoses and dies.

Thus suicide, not murder," I say it all in just one breath. Huh!

Turning to his left side he sneezes, he stands up and walks past behind me to exit the room.