"A woman was found dead? A hostess, hm?"
"Yeah, the red club district are pretty rowdy, after all."
"More jobs for the precinct. They say the mafia is pretty rampant in the red light district."
"Those people think they're above the law, huh."
"It's definitely a suicide though. She wrote a suicide letter after all."
The chatter was incessant in the precinct, it's already worsening my bad migraine.
This is how the current police department is, full of bureaucratic problems and incessant office politics.
I gripped my suitcase tighter as I walk through to my seat.
My direct subordinate, a young detective named Patrick, freshly graduated from Harvard university smiled at me, giving me a polite greeting. I merely give him a sour grunt.
The boy has only gotten in due to his father's connections. He is mistaken if he thinks he can smooth me up with his Ivy league smarmy charm.
I've heard rumors that his father is an important senate member and the chief has given me a meaningful pat and smile when he assigned the boy to me.
But, I'm not called the demon inspector for nothing. I have no desire to please the authorities or lick some little brat's fragile ego.
I will just bury him with paperwork- that would suit his fancy little degree, the boy looks like he can't even lift a proper dumbbell.
Back in the olden days, we have to prove our mettle with strength and endurance and endure harsh trainings to join the precinct.
Now, apparently a fancy prissy degree and a rich father's connection is all it takes.
This all piss me off. So does the incessant pounding in my head.
As if in cue to destroy my mood, the phone rang suddenly.
Patrick has a small expectant look when he saw it rang. He must have hoped that there is a new case he can work in, not the administrative stuffs that I had been hoarding on him.
But, I must have to say that the brat is pretty tough- I would've pegged him as a complainer. Instead, he endured it all with a very enthusiastic energy.
Must be nice to have all those idealism- but give it some time, it will all be destroyed soon.
"S-sir. There has been a horrible incident in the Four Seasons hotel in the Houston Street. A wall street banker has been found dead and..."
"Spit it out!" I yelled at the phone, "Do you think I have time to listen to your dilly-dallying?"
"Y-yes, sir. The body was mutilated into pieces in the Four Seasons hotel."
"Alright, I'll be there soon. I expect a full report when I reach there. Understand?!"
After hearing a little whimpering yes from the phone, I reached for my suitcase and was ready to depart when I hear Patrick's voice as I turned my back against him.
"Erm, e-excuse me, Inspector Clarkson, would I be able to help with your new case?"
I could feel my lips forming a feral grin when he said that, no not out of the fact that I was impressed by him. But because he has taken my bait, hook, line and sinker.
"Why not? Sure, come here, boy. I'll show you how real detectives work."
That line works like a smooth pick-up line. He smiled happily, almost like an exuberant puppy.
He trailed behind me happily just like the dog that he is.