The Demon and the Detective

The Detective

A yound man sat behind his small desk in his tiny room. A white paper was attached to the typewriter and behind him was a pinwall with thousend of word and pictures connected with a red line. From outside the rain tapped against the little window, which blinds were closed. A orange lamp gave the man some light. Oh the man wished for more light. He loved the sun and the world at daytime, but his job was more for the night time. So there he was, finding himself with nothing he could work with. The man ran through his curly blond hair as the green Telefone on his messy desk full of paper rang. He picked up. "Yes. Hello." "Hello Mister Garfunkel. We found another death body near a housing estate in a alleyway. Please come her as fast as you can. Queens Avenue 57th." "Yes Mister Halee. I will be there as soon as possible." Mr. Garfunkel adjusted the tie and grabbed his brown and striped coat. He rushed down to get a taxi. The rain was still pouring and it was dark outside. Garfunkel got a taxi and so he drove to the crime scene. He already saw the bling lights from the police car. It was always horrible, but it gave Mr. Garfunkel something. It gave him a meaning, a reason in life. He just had his job and that was it. Crime solving was his life. He loved it, when he could help and bring up the truth.
"Ah, there are you. Gentlemen's the best detective of them all. Mister Art Garfunkel." "Hello Roy. Too much of the honour. I'm just doing my job." "Well than please take a look.", Roy Halee smiled.

The dead body was a young woman maybe in her thirties. She worn a blue dress with Jewellery, brown hair and something was familiar about her. Art had this since all the serial killing started. Some of the corpse look familiar although all them were different. This was the only connection. Wait, there was another connection. Art came closer. He was face to face to the corpse. Others called him weird, but he did it his way. He opened the mouth of the woman. The police wanted to interrupt him, but Roy them back. Yes, exactly what he thought. Black fog came out of her mouth. Art opened the eyes of the death person. Completely black. The bullet wound and knife stable were just for discretion. But how was that possible. "So she was married, but the ring on her finger is still new. So maybe she was also just wanted to marry. Her eyes are like the corpse before deep black. And from her mouth came the rest of some kind of fog. Please check this. Also I would like to have more data about her. Firth we should search the husband or boyfriend. Reachers in the crime data. And get people who look similar. For the doctors find out about this empty eyes." That was a very confusing statement, but Mr. Halee trusted him. Everybody was just starred and was overwhelmed by Arts Analyse. "So Gentleman, you heard him." "But there is no fog or black eyes.", one of the police man's said. "Of course there is. There always is.", Art responded Roy looked at him with that strange caring look. "Gentlemens please just do what he said. Mr. Garfunkel has as I said a special way to fight crime."The police left and Roy made his way to Art. He buttoned up his suit. Roy always did that when there was new work. "Art you are a mystery to me. But I know you solved a lot of crimes. Although this series crime don't stop." "Two." "What?" "There are two series crimes. One which involves dead mans. The other one involves all sort of people and all of them have this black fog and black eyes one day after there deaths." Roy nodded understandably. "What are you doing now?" "Duck back down the alleyway and find the murder." "What? Mr. Garfunkel you could die. Well, you definitely gone die! He is a serial killer!" "Roy I'm hunting this murder for three years now. I know enough. But I am the only one who can see these weird sickness on the corpses. Even you did ignore my annotations.
My theory is that he kills criminals who camouflaged them self. I know, weird and stuff. But I'm so sure about this. Also who cares if i I die?" "Well I do, the police does. You been so strange since all this serial killing started." "Yeah, I know work cares. Well, this is work. So I have to hurry up. Bye, Roy. See you tomorrow." "Hopefully." Art put up his collar and disappeared in the darkness of the alleyway. Roy was left alone under the small orange of the street lamp, which flickered a bit. Next to him the death woman, who was lay in the shadow of the houses. Roy looked after Art but he couldn't see him anymore. So he looked the crime scene and drove back home.

Meanwhile Art was looked around carefully. He was prepared for everything, holding his hand close to his belt under his coat, where his gun was hidden. He hoped he didn't needed it. Suddenly something moved. It looked like something in the shadows around him would move. Art spun around and screwed up his eyes to focus. Art spotted a small outline of a person comply wrapped in the shadows of the alleyway just standing there straight. The thing tilted his head slightly. "Who are you?" No movement, no response. Art stud there still, didn't dare to move. So was the other person. Art put his fingers around the trigger of the gun, but as slowly as possible. "Listen. I know that you killed her. I just want to know more about the black fog. What is this? A poison?" Again no response. Art couldn't see anything besides the rough outline of the small person. It was just seconds, but it feeled like a hour in which nothing happened. Just the silence and the quit highway noise in the distance hang in the air. And than Art made a mistake. He made one tiny step forward. The person was rushing and starlted. Art feared that now he would shot and winced for a single moment. But than he heard the sound of running shoes. The murder fled even though he had just murdered someone. Art could have sworn that it would be easy for the murder to kill him. Did he knew about the weapon? But Art didn't had time to thing about this, he already ran after the sound of the shoes. The sound came from the wall. Was the murder climbing? Running on walls was something impossible. Art tried in vain to see something besides the dark cream walls of the houses. He ran fast. But suddenly the sound and the movement was gone. Just disappeared into nowhere. Art looked around. He found himself in a dead end. Great. Now he had lost his track. The only thing besides the nightly travig noise that Art heared was the sound of water. There must be a small river. He knew that there was a little river in that area with a old blue bridge over it. This must be just behind the wall of the dead end. But there was no way to get over this. Furthermore Detective Garfunkel didn't even knew if the person had escaped in that direction.
Disappointed he made his way back to the crime scene. Arthur was lost in though. He really needed to get back home to write everything down. After ordering a taxi and arriving back in his flat, he grabbed his note book, trough himself on his bed and wrote everything down he found out. So it was a small person. Probably a man and around 5.4 tall. Well tall is the wrongs word by 5.4. Small would fit better, Art thought. He smiled. Yes, the smaller the more louder and aggrisive the things were. That also counted for animals. Little dogs always barked the loudest. Little bird always chipped the loudest. Mosquitoes also we're very tiny and were one of the most aggressive insects. What Art wondered besides the fact of the sudden disappearing was the strange tilting of the man's head. That was nothing what humans normally did. Not even mad murderer. Art had seen enough to know that exactly. The man was more like the behavior of an animal. Art rubbed his eyes tired. He got up and toke a shower. A shower always helped him. He felt cleaner especially after he had been so close to a corpse. It also cleaned his brain from all the mess in head. After he was ready for bed. He took the firth look at a clock. 3 am in the morning. Great, that meant less sleep for the tired Detective, who he fall asleep immediately.