Wild Stories 2- Unexplained Happenings

Chapter Eight: Doctors and Officers

Crowley opened the door to the station and looked surprised when Wild followed Jack inside.

"Um, sir. I thought you'd be coming alone."

"Mr. Wild wanted to sit in on the meeting, he was hired to solve this case."

"Oh, suppose it's alright. If Mr. Ubel says so, that is."

"Mr. Ubel?"

"The detective inspector." Mr. Ubel said as he walked into the room, scanning it with a slight frown, and pausing when he saw Wild.

"What is he doing here?"

Crowley tried to explain as Mr. Ubel and Wild stared daggers at each other.

"He can make do with what he finds himself. Go on." He said icily.

Wild clasped his hands behind his back and tried not to look as annoyed as he felt. "I might be a help you know. World renowned detective. Got a bit of experience.

It would make it easier for you to solve the crime, protect the citizens which is, you know. Your job."

"Get out."

"Alright. Idiot." He murmured under his breath as he turned to leave.

"We don't like your type showing their faces here." Wild paused and gave him a look that was a mix between scathing and pitying. Then he left.

Jack felt a bit ill when Ubel turned to address him.

"Now that's out of the way, what's the situation?"

Jack tried not to let his disgust show on his face, but based on the expression on Ubel's, he was unsuccessful. Oh well.

"A woman was killed yesterday, Mary Hawke. Her father is the owner of Hawke Inn.

A syringe was found by the body as was glowing paint. And an impression of something like a large bag."

"Hmm. Good. Maybe you'll impress me after all, Thorn."

Cool also I hate you, Jack thought to himself.

"Now, Crowley has just brought in the coroner's report.

She died due to an injection of bleach and by ingesting it, as she was forced to drink a cleaning product. Oxygen based sodium percarbonate and tetraacetylethylenediamine, so a laundry detergent, I'd expect. A significant head-wound was also noted, and I suspect she may have fallen off of the lighthouse tower.

Interesting isn't it?"

"When did she die, sir?" Jack asked.

Ubel huffed a laugh to himself and looked at Jack.

"Mr. Thorn, you're a constable. I'm the detective. Alright?

I'm the one solving the mystery, you're the one running errands.

Now, I need you to interview the people inside the neighbouring hotel, Flower Inn. Get everyone's statements, though try to not bother the important guests too much. Can you do that?"

Jack's eye twitched.

"Yes Sir."

"Good boy. Oh and fetch me an almond croissant from the bakery while you're at it."

"I'll need the keys to a police car, Sir."

"Really? How did you get here then?"

"Caught a lift with a good friend."

"I see. Here. Don't scratch it." Ubel said, throwing the keys at him.

"Crowley, with me." Crowley gave him an apologetic look before hurrying after Ubel.