The angry ranting of the mob put his head in a spin. Detective Marlowe's car showed up, parking on the far edge of the building.
'We want Marlowe!' The crowd shouted, tackling the policemen's shields.
Marlowe was one of the greatest detectives in the city. From suicide to murder- theft to illegal trading; he cracked all the cases ever given to him. Therefore, after Nico's mother found her son lying dead in his apartment, she alerted the whole town; resulting in the gathering of a mob. 'Marlowe, Marlowe, Marlowe!' They shouted, as he stepped out of his car. He walked over to the restricted parting between the pavement, and with one movement, he silenced the whole crowd. "Now, my good people, I'm sure you know that this area has been clearly labelled as a 'private investigation'. Therefore, I ask you all to return to your homes, and deliver me some peace." he announced.
The murmurs of the crowd was eventually an echo in the distance, as they all fulfilled his request- but if I'm being honest they listened only according to the fact that Marlowe looked intimidating enough to harm whomever wouldn't listen.
Rubbing his hands together, Marlowe slowly opened the door and walked into Nico's apartment. Entering the kitchen, he saw the lifeless body, deformed and drained of blood. There was a foetid smell in the room, coming from the rotting corpse on the floor. "So...Who was he?" Marlowe asked.
A young woman walked over, a large file in her hand, "Suspect is Nicholas Archer, asain male in his early-thirties. Cause of death- Sucide. He stabbed himself in the chest. The body was found by his Mother, who is now at the police station."
Marlowe frowned. "No...It doesn't feel right." he said under his breath.
"Is there a problem Sir?" The woman questioned.
"Well...this just doesn't feel right. It doesn't seem to add up. Why would he commit suicide after being at a bar, having the time of his life? The timing doesn't make sense. And stabbing yourself is an utterly painful way to die. You'd have to be mentally ill to stab yourself."
"Well, if you don't mind me saying sir..." The woman started, "We can't be sure he was really having 'the time of his life' at the Bar. After all, he was working... However, he was shown on CCTV to be leaving the place with a young male, presumably in his late 20s."
"Yeah, you might be righ- wait. He was shown leaving with somebody?" Marlowe questioned, head tilted to one side.
But the woman had already left, as he saw her being dragged away by her Boss. Marlowe scratched his head. "Forensics!" He yelled. A man walked over, dressed in plastic overalls and gloves. "You called?"
"Yeah, has the knife been taken for fingerprints?" He asked.
"Yes sir." The man replied, his voice muffled under the plastic shield.
"Can I take a look?"
"Yes sir, follow me." He led Marlowe into a van parked outside, opening the back doors. Inside, was a glow of blue light, and a computer holding valuable data. "All the evidence and fingerprints are in there, Sir. I'm sorry but as the evidence got mixed up, they're placed in unusual order, so you might have to go through a few files before you find what you're looking for." He explained, hopping out of the van. The man walked back into the house, and Marlowe was left alone, a train of ideas constantly running through his mind.
********************
The clacking of the keyboard was the only noise audible over the sound of muffled talking from inside the house. Marlowe huffed impatiently, scrolling through the files until a small icon labelled 'CCTV evidence' caught his eye. He dragged the mouse over to it and clicked. A recording showed up, and Marlowe began the video. The recording showed 2 men- Nico and another man being dragged by him. 'There' Marlowe thought to himself. He rewound the tape and zoomed in on this 'mystery man'. He brought his hand up to his chin, and raised his eyebrow. Something felt familiar... 'Gasp'
"Of course!" Marlowe said to himself, and immediately grabbed the mouse. Clicking the search box, he typed 'Ryder Wyatt'. Ryder's details immediately showed up. Marlowe scrolled through hastily. 'click'. He lined together both the recording and an image of Ryder, and found that his theory just might be a fact.
The description matched perfectly.
'Thump.' Marlowe was interrupted- and slightly startled by the van door opening. A man walked in: his boss, Dylan. Marlowe's boss was an impatient man, his expression always blank. "Well? Are you just gonna stare at me all day or are ya gonna tell me what ya found?" He said, in a thick Irish accent.
"I'm sorry?"
Dylan sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead, "In case you didn't know I've been looking at ya through the window and ya had an expression on yer face that looked like you finally figured out who ate the last chocolate!"
Marlowe frowned.
"Jesus! I'm saying you look like you've found something on the case!"he exclaimed, slightly agitated.
"Oh," Marlowe finally understood, "You know how I was in an orphanage for quite some time? Well...there was this one boy named 'Ryder' who everybody feared. Rumor has it he killed his Father."
"Right, did I come here for your life story or an explanation on today's case." Dylan hissed, impatient.
"Let me finish," Marlowe said, "He looks exactly like the man on the CCTV!"
"You got me all excited for nothing." Dylan said, disappointed. "I thought you found an actual lead!"
"That is a lead." Marlowe groaned.
"No, it isn't. You cannot assume this 'Ryder' man killed Nicholas just because he looks like the person in a blurry recording and you were in an orphanage with him. End of."
"But he's famous! I was in an orphanage with him as a child, I know what he looks like now as an adult because I saw his magazines!"
"End of." Dylan repeated, "I don't know why you can't accept this is a suicide. But face it-The world is unfair." He walked out of the van, closing the door behind him.
Marlowe let out a heavy sigh and slouched down onto the chair beside him. Then he remembered:
'I haven't checked the fingerprints yet!' He thought to himself darting the mouse toward the file. The fingerprint eventually loaded, revealing an image and scanned result. Marlowe examined the screen carefully, eyes scrunched together to brace them from the screen's light. He immediately slammed his fist against the table, throwing himself back onto the chair after he read a sentence in the bottom left corner: 'All fingerprints taken match to 31 year old Nicholas Archer.'
"Something isn't right..." Marlowe whispered to himself yet again. Shaking his head vigorously, he shut down the computer, stepping out of the van.