A Detective's Story

Chapter One

Hello, everyone. My name is . . . we will get to that later. 

You can just call me Detective. 

I live here in Onyxbury, it's quite the isolated city. If you ever come to visit, you'll probably think you stepped in the world of depression or some made up shit.

But don't worry, everyone here is quite jolly . . . most of the time.

Right now, I am getting ready to visit the crime scene.

This is the 5th time this month.

It's only September 29th.  

And you might think that's not a lot, which it is. But, there was 17 bodies found last month.

All with the same wounds.

I don't know how he does it honestly.

It's pretty easy to find criminals here in Onyxbury. 

Everybody here has connections. Whether it's a friend from kindergarten or the aunt of a friend of a friend. 

This is useless information, now that I think about it, but the point is, everyone here has connections, so someone is ought to know something . . .

But they don't.

Anyways, let's get back to the real deal.

This killer has a certain . . . way of killing his victims. 

Usually, the smell of death and bodies linger at the crime scene.

But these ones are different . . .

Strangely, a strong smell of coffee lingers. 

I don't know if this is some sick game where he taunts us by taking the time to hide what's causing the scent.

Or maybe, it's his way  of say  "I'm relaxing having coffee while your investigating the bodies."

That's probably me digging too deep into it, but yet again, as a detective, you have to rule out the possibilities. 

There are always scratches and bite marks all over the bodies. 

Now, I am not saying he is a Cannibal or some hybrid wolf or whatever, but remember, I got to rule out the possibilities. 

Every time I see the pictures, it looks like the victim was brutally attacked by wolves.

But there are no wolves . . . or any wild animals like that, in Onyxbury.

And I know that for a fact.

Now, let's talk about the case.

Allegedly, a man was walking home from work after a long shift. His car broke down so he had to walk.

He was having a late night meal to give him some energy to make it back home.

Once he was finished, he walked near an alleyway and saw a dumpster. 

He wanted to throw away his trash to free his hands, like any normal person.

He walks into the alleyway and that's allegedly where he was last alive.

Now I should not say allegedly for that last part, he is dead. I know that for a fact.

But, it doesn't matter. 

It's not like y'all know my boss or whatever.

Right now, I am walking over.

The streets are quite gloomy.

I am trying not to step on the lines. 

I carefully step on each stone brick on the street.

This is more useless information, but you should be learning what kind of person I am. 

These streets look like something from a Pinterest board.

Maybe like . . . Dark academia or whatever.

But that's not important.

But speaking about aesthetics, let me show you my fit.

I visited France once.

That sounds like a completely different topic, but listen.

The old people there always told me that I reminded them of the "Old days".

But I dress normally too. 

I like beige. And brown. And cream . . . not the one you might be thinking about.

Anyways, today I am wearing a fitted, white, button up, long sleeve shirt. 

Along with a black tie.

Then I am wearing a fitted brown blazer.

I am wearing a long A line skirt.

And by long I mean to my mid lower legs.

Then I am wearing white socks and dark brown ballet flats. 

They match my skirt and my blazer.

You guys didn't need to know that.

And that was too descriptive, but whatever. 

This is my story, and I do what I want.

I turn the corner and spot the coffee shop.

I always make sure to see if I can smell the same strong smell from the crime scenes.

I never smell it.

But hopefully, one day I will. And then I can finally move far away.

I am about to cross the street from the coffee shop until it hits me.

The smell.

I whip my head around,

But I realize, I am almost late.

Even though I know it's not . . . the best idea I have made, I reluctantly turn back around and continue walking to my location.

I might have just jeopardized our chances of finding the killer.

I might be the reason more people die.

I might get fired if anyone finds out about this. 

But I don't care.

I do what I want.