I dialled the number of Blaze Stirling, the commissioner of the OPD. As I brought the phone to my ear, his voice resounded through the line.
"Hello?" he greeted.
"Oh, hello commissioner... You didn't forget me already, did you? You handled my hospital case last night," I reminded him.
"Sir? How can I forget you? How may I be of your assistance?" he replied.
"I have a small request. Lyra Nightshade is leading the investigation into the fire that occurred in my company. I need your permission to assist her in the investigation," I explained.
"Consider it done, sir," he assured me.
"Perfect. Have a nice day, commissioner," I said, ending the call.
"Hey, hey! This is a restricted area. Can't you see the barricade? Step outside immediately!" an officer on the scene shouted.
"Woah, easy there, buddy... You see that woman in uniform," I said, pointing at Lyra Nightshade, who was wearing a mask standing a far and had just received a phone call and turned towards me.
"I've got her permission to assist in the investigation," I said, waving at Lyra as she squinted her eyes.
"What?" the officer asked.
"Wait and see," I replied as Lyra ended her call and walked towards me, massaging her temples.
'Why does she look annoyed?' I thought to myself.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Lyra..." I greeted her as she pulled down her mask.
"It's surprising you remember me because when I met you in the morning, you were... really drunk," she said, her expression showing no surprise.
"Of course, how can I forget such a stunning face?" I replied.
"Leave him. He'll be assisting me with the investigation," she said to the officer standing beside me, ignoring my compliment.
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a nod and returned to his position.
"Well, officer, since I am here to assist you, let me have a look at the scene," I said, walking past her and tapping her shoulder, her height reaching only till my chest level.
She heaved a sigh and started following me.
"It's a murder case," she stated handing me a mask.
"Oh, really?" I said, taking the mask from her hands and scanning the burnt floor, observing the forensics team and photographers working diligently.
"Sophia had a bullet in her head. We are tracing the origin and seller of that bullet," she added.
"The source of the fire has not yet been determined. There was no short-circuit, no inflammable gases or liquids used. It was as if the fire just emerged out of nowhere," she explained.
"The alarm system was deliberately broken for the fire to spread, and camera footage was deleted," she continued.
"So, the only lead you have up until now is the bullet," I concluded.
"Yes, indeed. We already have information on two notorious arms dealers in the city who specialize in acquiring weapons that are beyond the reach of ordinary dealers. One of them heads the Artisan Auction, known for their expertise in procuring elusive weaponry. The other is a formidable mafia group that we've been monitoring closely, referred to as the Reaper Society."
"That's quite an impressive feat, Officer, gathering such valuable information. But wait, are you considering personally reaching out to them?" I asked, a mischievous twinkle in my eyes.
"Precisely," she replied, her expression hinting at the daring plan forming in her mind.
I leaned in closer, a smirk playing on my lips.
"Ah, but here's the catch. You can't just storm in with your squad, guns blazing, and your flashy police badges. Not in a place like an illegal auction center or a mafia den."
"Correct," she agreed, her gaze drifting to the charred remnants of my office furniture.
I raised an eyebrow.
"So, how do you plan to infiltrate these places, Officer Nightshade? Disguised as a singing telegram or a pizza delivery person?"
She shot me a deadpan look, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, yes, because nothing screams inconspicuous like a police officer delivering a pepperoni pizza."
I chuckled, trying to contain my amusement. "Fair point. So, what's the master plan? I'm all ears."
"Auction access might be manageable with a forged pass and a contact who can discreetly facilitate our entry. But when it comes to the notorious mafia group, we'll need to be stealthy, cunning, and perhaps even a little absurd." She said lowering her voice conspiratorially.
"I understand that I can acquire us VIP passes for the auction, but it's highly unlikely they'll be available for the mafia group," I stated.
"Who's 'us'? I'll be the one conducting the operations. Any interference from your side could result in serious governmental actions," she said.
"But I'm here to assist you," I reasoned.
"Assist me with the investigation by utilizing your mind, not relying on guts or physical strength," she said.
"Assistance is assistance. You can't categorize it," I exclaimed.
"Yes, I can. I don't care if the commissioner assigned you as an investigative assistant. As long as I'm leading this, you'll have to listen to me," she said.
"Am I making myself clear?" she asked.
"Of course, Officer."
Just as my phone rang, I quickly glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Cedric.
"You finished the interview rather swiftly, Cedric," I remarked. As Lyra caught sight of me on the call, she let out a heavy sigh, turned, and started walking toward the exit.
"Sir, I didn't—"
"Wait a minute, Officer. You're aware this case has attracted media attention. Walking through the main gate would create quite a commotion and land you on television. Wouldn't be ideal before going undercover, would it?" I interrupted.
"Then do you know of any alternative exit?" she paused her steps and asked.
"Of course, follow me," I replied.
"Yes, Cedric... please continue," I said into the phone.
"Sir, I didn't give any interview. As soon as you entered the building, I left the premises. I have some news for you—two good and one bad," he said.
"Enlighten me with the good news first," I said, striding ahead of Lyra as we made our way towards the back stairs of the building, leading to a small exit behind it.
"Sir, the first piece of good news is... based on your actions, the way you handled the situation with the mantle and saved a life at the bar, you have been granted permanent authorization in Ankrath. You will be summoned to the Clan's Shrine this week for your entrance ceremony and weapon selection," Cedric said.
"That's impressive," I replied, glancing at Lyra, who was trying her best to keep close and listen to the conversation.
Unfortunately, she couldn't hear anything since I was discreetly listening through the small earphone Cedric had provided in my left ear. Holding the phone to my ear was just a ruse.
"And the second good news is regarding the weapon you were investigating—the bullet and all. It turns out it was a stolen weapon from eighty years ago. During the World War, numerous weapons were smuggled, and that Desert Eagle was one of them. There are no records of its sale in the past eighty years, suggesting it was passed down within River's family," Cedric revealed.
"That's even more fascinating," I said with a smug grin.
"And now for the last news... you've been issued a warning to refrain from killing any citizens. The clan head has decided to forgive last night's murder due to the circumstances. Unless you find yourself in a dire situation or a citizen attempts to kill you, you are not to retaliate. Consider this your first warning. Upon receiving the fifth warning, you will be brought in for trial at Ankarath," he concluded.
"I'll keep that in mind," I responded as the call disconnected.
As we reached the ground floor, Lyra inquired, "Who was on the phone?"
"It was nothing... just some personal matters. I was confirming the payment of 10 million Aurums as remuneration to Sophia's family," I replied.
"I see," she muttered.
"But... where is your car, Officer?" I asked.
"It's at the front gate," she responded.
"..." I stared at her blankly, my confusion evident.
"It's a department vehicle, so I don't pay much attention to it. Besides, I've been lost in thought," she explained.
"No problem," I said, taking out my phone and connecting with the car parked in the basement of the building.
The resounding roar of the engine echoed through the ground floor as a sleek black 1997 Chevy Camaro made its way towards us and came to a stop in front of us.
I opened the passenger door for her and gestured for her to get in. She nodded and took her seat.
Closing the door, I settled into the driver's seat, switching the car to manual mode.
"But... where are we headed?" I asked.
"Drop me off at headquarters," she said.
"Sure..."