Sinners - The Puppet (currently being re-written)

Prologue

It was deep into the night when the sirens rang throughout the cityscape and police cars zipped through the streets. Onlookers would watch in muted confusion as a flash of red and blue disappeared almost immediately as it came. Some would look, wondering what the fuss was all about, but the confusion wasn't enough to warrant them an excuse to know exactly what happened.

The cars moved towards a single mansion up a hill, darkness looming overhead as they entered through the metal gates. A maid waited silently by the front door, nibbling her nails as she strained to hear the familiar siren, and her face lit up instantly at the sight of the three cars that pulled up in front of her.

Several officers stepped out and spoke to her. She confirmed their questions and eagerly showed them the way. In the meantime, the final officer exited through the open door of the car and stared upon the mansion within his gaze.

One could tell by the manner in which he stood that he held the highest position among the men. While others appeared stiff and were well-dressed, that man had the sleeves of his black dress shirt folded up to his elbows, a red tie hanging loosely around his neck. A cigarette stick protruded from his mouth and he held it between two fingers, smoke blown into the air as he discarded the cigarette upon the car's ash tray.

He snapped out of his reverie the moment an officer called out his name from within the mansion. Clicking his tongue, he entered and followed after his subordinate, his blue eyes regarding their surroundings as he was filled in with the details of the case.

Before long, their feet drew them to the crime scene in question. The maid waited outside the door and spoke with another officer, her complexion pale as she avoided looking upon the corpse within. He came upon her and she bowed slightly in greeting.

"Inspector Kyle Clark," he said, showing his police badge as proof. "I'd like to hear your testimony. In the meantime, you can gather the rest of the servants."

It wasn't a request at all. Rather, it was a command, and the maid seemed to understand completely what he had intended to tell. He gazed upon the officer she was speaking to and the one next to him, gesturing for them both to accompany the maid and soon, the three of them were off. Only then did he proceed to enter.

The crime scene was the master's bedroom--wide, with a single king sized bed occupying the middle. The forensics team walked all over the room in search for clues, cameras and powders at hand. White curtains draped over the wide windows that lined the opposite wall and facing it was a velveteen cushioned seat. As he approached the seat, he found two interesting points.

A spilled wine glass on the floor and a burn mark that scorched the carpet.

He frowned, pulling out his gloves as he kneeled at the burn mark. This was...caused by a bullet and the bullet itself was stuck on the wooden floor below. He faced the seat to find a corresponding hole on it, both likely caused by the same bullet.

He circled the seat and regarded the victim. The corpse belonged to a man nearing his sixties--the sole occupant of the mansion. He was slumped in his chair and was dressed only in a white bathrobe, blood staining it a deep red around the chest where a deadly knife was pierced through.

What...?

A knife? What was a knife doing there?

He turned to the officer who was checking the state of the corpse. "Hey, how long has he been dead?"

"About one or two hours, sir," replied the officer who was in the middle of opening the victim's eyelids. "I can't make definite conclusions but, well, seeing the state of the body, the weapon is probably the knife."

He frowned. "Check for bullet holes. There's a bullet lodged on the floor just behind him."

The coroner nodded while he proceeded to search the area for more clues. Turning, he faced the window. From where he stood, he noticed a hole and webs of cracks on the square of the glass. A bullet hole.

So he was right. He followed the line of trajectory. Outside was...a thick grove of trees from the hill, a perfect camouflage for a sniping rifle. His eyes lingered to the victim. The chest area? But, why the knife?

Kyle paced around the room. There wasn't anything much to check as the room hardly had any decorations or furniture so he proceeded to the bed. Upon gaining permission from the forensics, he overturned the sheets and pillows. Nothing. He checked at the small space between the floor and the bed, phone in hand as he lit up the dark space with a flashlight. Still nothing.

He turned to the bedside table. On it was a single cup and a teapot, both relatively undisturbed. Lifting the teapot, he felt its hollow husk and checked within--unsurprised to see it empty of any liquid.

Once again he approached the victim. The coroner was still checking for any possible clues so he waited. He stared at his feet, to the carpet below. And he caught sight of something curious just beside the cushioned seat.

He knelt down to see what was bugging him and his hand found a piece of paper--or rather, a postcard or something similar. Its color was akin to that of the carpet so it was relatively easy to miss.

Turning the card to look at the opposite side, he frowned as he read the letters written in white ink. Then, his eyes grew wide in realization.

"S-Sir!" the coroner called.

His eyes shot up to the victim. The body had been moved and now, his back was in full view. Kyle saw it then, the blood that stained the cushioned seat and the slash wounds that decorated the victim's back, forming an ominous letter X through the torn bathrobe.

Kyle glanced at the card in his hand, then back to the slash wounds, and he cursed under his breath.

Justice has been served.