Blake Edward, the detective, the crazily clever detective. Befriending Mort Smith, they solve mysteries together and fall into new great grand adventures. Facing lot of foes and dangers, that's gonna be a mysterious mind maze story. So, what are you...
"Spotted a body on the dept of a well at Broce Street, a certain Michael Steward. Get a cab quickly." Blake read loudly, grimacing, "Better go have a look, Arthur." he said to Arthur who was sitting cross-legged holding a newspaper in his hand, reading with squint-eyes.
Blake trudged down the stairs, rushing to the hanger and putting on his coat. "Arthur, come down immediately." he bellowed, turning the handle and pushing the door, faint flurries entering indoors.
Arthur came down, taking a deep breath and sighing heavily, his eyes half-opened.
"What happened?" asked Blake.
"I was just rummaging about for my coat. Freezing breezes isn't it." Arthur said, sliding his palms into his coat-pocket smiling cheekily.
They stood near a towering and deciduous White Poplar tree along with rubiginous leaves. There were a cram-full lot of jaundiced-looking taxis going to and fro. Subsequently, one cabby vroomed up the path and Blake signalled the driver with his hands. The driver stopped the vehicle with a short squeal. The duos opened the doors and hunkered inside, making the way to Broce Street.
Reaching there, they got off the transport, rushing to the well where there were already a crowd and the medias circled around the well outside the police tape, taking snaps of photos near the taken-out body, soaked in gore. Blake and Arthur struggled up to make their way leading to the body. Kinsley remarked them and stepped towards the two, beckoning them. Blake and Arthur jump the barricade tape and examined the body. Blake crouched down next to the corpse, scrutinise-eyed. He circled his eyes thoroughly, immersed in to haunt for the clues.
"He had been shot right into the navel." told Blake.
"Undeviatingly murdered at the bellybutton!" exclaimed Arthur, astonishingly, "His life survived merely over within less than ten minutes."
Blake slipped his fingers into the outer pockets and moved out-and-out and sensed something. He pulled it out and they saw a pitch-black piece of paper drawn in red:
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"There's something also scribbled in it." said Blake then read it, "Live evil."
"Can I have one of these gloves?" demanded Blake, Kinsley taking one from one of the policemen who was guarding the place and holding it to the detective. He put it on the right hand and lifted the man's blazer sides, checking the interior pockets and felt another thing and grabbed it out. He saw a photograph with a man's and a woman's face circled with blood.
"Grasp this image and find out who they are. It could be a sign of danger, the two other people to be assassinated."
