The door groaned open, setting a nerve-racking tone as I entered the office. The radios blared, merging with the discordant voices, while the air lingered heavy with the acrid tang of cigarettes. It was a whirlpool of chaos, a twisted carnival of the mundane and the strange. I was tangled in its web, where every second seemed to stretch endlessly.
As I shuffled in, the weight of the tray in one hand and the enigmatic box in the other felt monumental. While I usually enjoyed receiving gifts, this one felt ominous. The secrecy around it created a gnawing foreboding that I couldn't shake.
The previous night had been a battle between curiosity and fear, just like Michael's struggles with his vices, a habit I, too, had tried to conquer. I opted for a drink, a vice I had dodged for weeks, over preparing a meal, trying to quell my anxiety and the haunting shadows that followed me everywhere. The box sat ominously with its ribbon, reminiscent of the sinister scroll.
Around 4 a.m., I succumbed to the exhaustion, nursing a hangover which not even two aspirins could ease. A gloomy cloud lingered low in the room, mirroring the dreariness outside—classic British weather.
Michael and ADI Locke, wearing equally grave expressions, had bad news to deliver.
"Great timing with the coffee, matey," Michael chirped, eagerly grabbing a cup, his eyes avoiding the box in my hands.
"What's going on?" I stuttered, sensing the gravity of the news that awaited.
"If the party's in a morgue, then yeah," Michael quipped.
"Another body?" I asked.
"Regrettably so. And you've brought us a gift!" Michael noted, gesturing to the box.
"I didn't. It was on my doorstep; a black Audi sped off—no license plates," I explained.
"You haven't opened it?" Michael's curiosity piqued.
"After your ear-related scare, I thought it prudent to keep us all in the loop," I replied.
"Ah, so the hunter becomes the hunted," Michael teased, enjoying the switch.
"George, focus! You and Michael need to address 'Wick Lane Bridge.' Who let Mr Kumar use it as a base?" ADI Locke interrupted, clearly frustrated.
"He was there, believed it was linked to his work or pets. He feels he's being followed," I replied. We needed to unravel his role, yet three days had given us four bodies to attend to.
"As long as he's safe, we'll tackle that chaos later. For now, let's see what's in this box," I said, nodding to the mysterious package, surprising ADI Locke.
Gently undoing the ribbon, all eyes fixed on the box. The anticipation was almost tangible, contrasting sharply with the rising apprehension.
The lid lifted easily, and Michael leaned in, his cigarette scent an eerie addition to our start of the day. Here's hoping the contents won't add to the dread that already grips us.
Initially, it was anticlimactic, but then I grasped its significance. It was far from being a harbinger of good news. The colours of a night's sky adorned the card's front, with a blood-red moon set amidst dark blue and black hues, bearing the words, 'Dear Detective Reynolds. I wanted to take this moment to wish you a happy, bloody birthday. After all, you'll be far too busy. I'm sure. Like the message says. I hope you have a howling good time.'
'I apologise if you're all a little overworked. Unfortunately, it's the nature of the beast. Eager to please, places to go, and people to kill. Call it... making up for lost time and punishing the wrong. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon. Especially if you have an ounce of the intelligence I think you have. We could be 'two peas in a pod. Bleed you later.'
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Murder On The Waterway: The Case Of The Kanaima Demon
Mystery / Thriller"In the heart of bustling, eerie London, a malevolent killer lurks in the shadows, targeting the vulnerable and those with scores to settle. For Detective George Reynolds, his initiation into the area-wide murder task force under the guidance of DS...
