It was clear that the room had been abandoned in a hurry; papers were strewn across the floor, chairs knocked over and a fire still crackling in the grate. I drifted towards the open window, the white drapes framing it fluttered in the draft. Peering through, I looked down to see the forensics below me. Dark suits, moving with sombre precision around the body, still splayed across the concrete from last nights events. No note was left behind, I suppose there wasnt the time, poor sod, it was the only way out for him. This particular killer had a taste for psychologically torturing his victims until he pushes them just over the edge, then leaves them to finish it off themselves. This man wasnt the first to be taken by him either, grimacing at the horror of the situation, I gave a nod to Mr Danley and left the crumbling, decript mansion, with the determined promise of upturning some long buried secrets. Catching a cab back to the city, I began to ruminate upon the misfortunes of the evening and what might have lead to it. I had work to do.
The sound of hooves against stone ceasing awoke me, as the cab rocked to a halt. I straightened and gazed out the window to the welcoming view of the bustling street around me, I couldnt live in the country, far to silent and empty for my liking. I have come to learn in my time in this occupation, that it is always better to be in company, even if said company is not to be trusted, it is better than none at all. With this thought and my gatherings of evidence from the house tightly secured in my briefcase, I tipped the driver and set off to the office.
YOU ARE READING
The Inspector
Non-FictionTo my dear and unfortunate readers; It is with great regret and reluctance that I bestow this story unto you. There is only so long I can bear the burden of this story alone; For I am old and crippled from a life lived too long in the shoes of other...
