The Bloodiest Knife

The Mask

"Ed, come into my office please."

The boss called me. I was generally good at my job, mainly because nothing else in life had any point to it since Liz had left me. Why was this Tom so much better than me anyway? I couldn't change it now, but had my good friend scotch to keep me going. I walked in slowly, and sat in the chair opposite him.

"Yeah?"

"Ed, you're a good detective. You always invest yourself fully in your work."

"I try, boss. I do try."

"I know you do Ed. Which is why I've decided to assign you to a new homicide case. I think you'll be the best man for the job."

"Um... Thanks, I guess."

"I warn you, this case... It's not nice."

That was the point where I should've turned right around and walked out the door. If I had any idea what kind of shit I had in store, I would've gotten out of there, left it to Jackson, or another, more experienced detective. Alas, I took the case. It would prove to be the worst mistake of my life.

It was raining when I drove to the crime scene the next morning. Always is, in England. A man in a large, brown overcoat met me under the large bridge, which had police tape making sure there were no disturbances. A forensics team were looking around the scene, placing small, plastic stands with numbers on them next to potential evidence. One man in particular, presumably the leader of the team, came over and shook my hand. He spoke with a thick Welsh accent.

"Hello, you must be Detective Hall. I'm James Owen, head of the forensics team for this investigation."

"Please, call me Ed. So what exactly do we know about the case?"

"Not much, if I'm honest. Whoever this guy is, he's good. He, judging by the footprints we found, didn't leave any prints or a weapon. Come over here though and you'll see - "

At this he walked away from me, so I followed. He was now standing by one of the yellow numbered evidence markers. Once I got there, he crouched down and I followed. There was an ornately carved wooden box, about the length of a shoebox, but square instead of a rectangle. I looked closer and saw that the ornate carvings were depictions of death, destruction and torture, with many screaming faces and random phrases such as 'HA HA HA'.

"You think whoever it was who committed the murder carved this themself?"

"I do. We've tried to find a match for the wood, but no-one had ordered this type of wood, the rare Cedar blend. It's very well carved as well, no false markings or knife scratches. It's relatively new, presumably made for the murder itself."

"So what's inside?"

"Well that's where it gets interesting."