When we reached the hotel, it was already set up, the police yellow tape has been rolled to cover the whole area and the forensics have already arrived.
Even the paparazzi surrounding the hotel cowered at the sight of me. They surely had been trained well. Surely, that had been a result of the last incident.
I can still remember the headlines in New York Times and BBC, "A paparazzi arrested for illegally trespassing the crime scene" and "The demonic police inspector is not to be messed with."
Like my old man always say, stupid mutts never really obey your orders until you show them what true fear is.
From behind me, Patrick was looking at me with a glance of unabashed admiration.
But, I know that as soon as he sees the dead body, he would be like any other rookie. I still remember the last one, he puked all over, embarrassing himself and nearly pissed his pants- that will serve him well.
Traumatize him even. I didn't brief him on the case, of course. Fear is less potent when you can prepare yourself against it.
That's how you get rid of the undesirables and the unqualified.
Show them the harsh reality of the work, show them that there's no grandeur or coolness in the job, it's not a noble job, but a gritty, dirty one. Youths nowadays watch those series and think it would be nice to be a detective, but they don't know the true nature of the job.
The stench permeating from the room was already filling the whole floor when we exited the lift. From the back of my eye, I can see Patrick was debating internally whether or not to cover his nose. The smell was too much for some entitled kid.
But, I've been smelling this stench since I was young. Unlike him, I wasn't a rich boy born with a silver spoon. I was a tough kid from Brooklyn, with a war veteran as a father. My father was a respected man in the streets. Men cowered in fear when they saw him.
He taught me how to fight and defend myself. But, also how to avoid being caught by the police. According to my father, policemen are weak and spineless.
I wonder if he would be rolling in his grave if he knew that I'm now a police captain.
The stench doubled when we open the door, and the young officer who were patrolling near the place of incident immediately look nervous at my sight, sauntering quickly to brief me.
Patrick immediately took the notebook from his backpack, eager to write things down.
Another rookie mistake. But, that shouldn't be a problem as he wouldn't be staying.
The bellboy was the first one who found the banker.
According to the bellboy, the man entered the hotel alone as can be seen from the hotel's CCTV recording at around 9 PM last night.
He was there to join a business conference that took place in the hotel's lobby about the socialization of a new capital market regulation.
From the name registered, we know that his name is Andrew Whitebrook, a senior associate in a well-known bank. He belongs in the human resource department.
As there were a wedding of a prominent minister held in the hotel lobby and large conference with a lot of guests from overseas, it is hard to track and restrict and to interview witnesses.
After listening to him and giving a side glance to Patrick, who still seem more or less enthused, I beckon him to show us the dead body.
He said that the body was found in the bathtub, and the blood has been washed away with water, so they were unable to find the fingerprints. The cause of death is also impossible to determine with the chopped limbs.
As expected, Patrick threw up when he saw the corpse.
The murder was almost artistically designed, the head of the corpse was stabbed on a shower head.
Like how the inquisitors used to parade the witches' head back during the dark ages.
The fingers were shaped in a prayer position with the entrails and his inside decorating it in a circle.
The murderer must be sick in the head, or someone with a grudge.
I hear a faint choked sob from Patrick, he looks extremely faint and pale. Sweat running through his body. That's a normal reaction, I suppose.
These days, young people play violent video games, but they never know the real sensation of seeing a dead body- the permeating stench, the maggots wriggling out and the overwhelming smell of despair.
He's done for. Now, onto the dead body. I saw a single rose between the mutilated feet.
It is a black rose.