Elvis meticulously recounted the day's proceedings to Joe, emphasizing that the investigation was still in progress. "He mentioned that he'll be here tomorrow morning. The installation of surveillance cameras behind the prison has been approved, and he plans to oversee the process," Elvis explained.
Seated comfortably, Joe leaned back in his chair, uncapping a bottle of water. "Any revelations from the deceased inmate's friends?" Joe inquired, his gaze focused on Elvis.
"I cannot say. Detective William expressed the need to converse with them privately, so I respectfully excused myself," Elvis responded.
A thoughtful hum escaped Joe as he reached for his phone, organizing the tasks scattered across his desk. "It's time to bring today to a close," he declared, rising from his chair. Exiting the office, Joe made his way to his car, departing the premises to return home.
Elvis gracefully navigated the premises, ensuring no inmates lingered and the security remained vigilant. Satisfied with his rounds, he decided to retire to his quarters. Upon reaching his room, before illuminating the space, he discerned a shadow on his bed. In the darkness, he observed the figure making a motion.
Swiftly, Elvis flicked on the light, poised for defence, only to halt in surprise as he recognized the intruder. "Not again, Felix," he sighed, a wry smile gracing his face.
*********************************
Nana settled into a chair, attentively absorbing the morning news broadcast on the radio.
After catching up with the latest headlines, she contemplated the day ahead.
Nana found reassurance in the financial provision left by Josh. His earlier role as a cleaner in a five-star hotel, before venturing into his own coffee business, had left her with enough resources to sustain herself for the next month. Lost in these reflections, a sudden knock on her door interrupted her thoughts.
Rising gracefully, Nana approached the door and encountered a woman adorned in a black dress, the hem gracefully falling just below her knees. The woman wore glasses that added a certain air of seriousness to her presence.
In response to the unexpected visitor, Nana's tone turned stern as she inquired, "What do you want?"
"I'm Detective Elena, handling your grandson's murder case. I'm here to discuss—"
"I have nothing to tell you. Go away," Nana abruptly cut her off.
"Please, I—" the detective attempted to plea.
"I said I have nothing to tell you. Go away," Nana reiterated, closing the door firmly.
Muttering her frustration, Nana returned to her seat, shaking her head. "Stupid fools, asking questions but unable to derive anything helpful to catch the murderer."
*************************
"Am I correct in understanding that you believe he died at 9 pm?" Detective Philip inquired, directing his question to Kweku, the forensic pathologist.
"Yes, sir," Kweku affirmed.
Detective Philip pondered this information, humming softly as he paced around the lab. Yaw, diligently taking notes, observed his boss with a silent understanding. Philip, seemingly intrigued, gingerly touched various tools in the lab, questioning, "I'm not supposed to touch any tools here, right?" He playfully ran his fingers over the bone saw, feigning innocence.
"We've also conducted DNA samples," Kweku replied, choosing to overlook the detective's playful inquiry.
Curious about the weapon used, Detective Philip, without looking, asked, "What kind of weapon do you think was used?" Yaw shared a reassuring glance with Kweku, well aware of his boss's quirks.
Sighing, Kweku answered, "Based on the wound's depth and shape, it appears that a sharp, single-edged knife with a medium-length blade was used. The absence of serrations suggests a smooth cutting edge."
"I see. Yet, they claim they never saw the weapon. What about fingerprints?" Detective Philip finally turned around, addressing Kweku directly.
"No fingerprints," Kweku responded.
"Right. Thanks for your time, Mr...," Detective Philip paused.
"Call me Kweku, sir."
"Alright, thanks, Kweku, sir. We will take our leave," Detective Philip declared, exiting the lab with Yaw. As they left, the tension in the lab seemed to dissipate. Yaw sighed, quenching his thirst with a gulp of water.
" That man is something "
**********************************
Detective Philip and Yaw entered the building, making their way to the office. Peter, entering the room, inquired if the detective needed anything—coffee or food, explaining that Inspector Evans had instructed him to assist. However, Detective Philip declined the offer initially. Before Peter could leave, he found himself halted by a question.
"I heard you were on duty on the day of the murder, correct?" Detective Philip inquired.
"Yes, sir," Peter confirmed.
"Did you notice anything suspicious that night, even though I'm told Rexford did not set foot here?" Detective Philip pressed further.
"No, sir. I did not see anything suspicious," Peter responded.
"Okay. Did your chief inspector instruct you to provide anything I need?" Detective Philip asked, a smirk playing on his face.
"Yes, sir," Peter confirmed again.
"Anything?" Detective Philip repeated, the smirk lingering.
"Y-yes, sir," Peter stammered.
"Alright, then. Get my assistant here a large box of pizza with Coke, shawarma, and..." Detective Philip turned to Yaw, asking, "You eat fufu, right?"
Yaw, still slightly shocked, nodded in agreement.
"Yes, and fufu with goat meat, of course. You can leave," Detective Philip concluded. He noticed Yaw's wide-eyed stare, and they locked eyes for a moment before Yaw looked away, processing the unexpected request.
This was going to be his best breakfast ever.
*********************************
Detective William maintained a vigilant stance as he oversaw the meticulous installation of cameras behind the prison. Frustrated by the lack of substantial information from the inmates during yesterday's questioning, he found himself at a crossroads in the investigation. Despite the prisoners affirming they had seen the victim and were with him, the crucial detail of the timing of his disappearance eluded them. A deep sigh escaped Detective William's lips, his frustration palpable.
Feeling at a loss, he had already reached out to the forensic pathologist, scheduling an appointment in the hope of garnering essential clues for a more focused investigation. Suspicion lingered around the prison staff – officers, the superintendent, even the cooks – but Detective William found himself grappling with the lack of a breakthrough.
Interrupted by a voice calling his name, he turned to find Detective Elena approaching. Surprised by her unexpected presence, Detective William inquired, "Good morning, Detective Elena. What brings you here?"
"I came to see a prisoner, a suspect named Jean or something," Detective Elena explained.
"Ah, your investigation. The prisoners are out; they've been sent to work in the fields," Detective William noted.
"Then I guess I'll have to wait. Hope it won't take too long," Detective Elena replied.
"Not all prisoners were sent; he might still be here. Let me escort you," Detective William offered as he guided her in search of Jesse.
As they walked, Detective Elena inquired about the progress of his investigation. "No clues for now, but I'm still on it. How about yours?" Detective William asked in return.
"Well, as you can see, I'm on it too," Detective Elena remarked.
Arriving at the cell wing, they approached two uniformed men, likely prison officers. Detective Elena introduced herself, "Hello, I'm Detective Elena. I want to see the recently brought inmate."
"There have been quite a few new inmates. If you could specify..." one of the men replied.
"He's smallish, dark, and his name starts with a 'J,'" Detective Elena described.
"Oh, I think it's Jesse, the one Elvis brought the other day," the other man chimed in.
"He's not here at the moment; he's among those working in the field," the first man informed.
"Will they be long?" Detective Elena inquired.
"It's 9 now; they should be back around 10 or 11," the man answered. "I'll wait then," Detective Elena concluded, settling in for the wait.
*********************
An hour had passed since Yaw finished his meal, leaving him pleasantly satiated. Too full to engage in work, he lounged comfortably, a satisfied smile gracing his face. Observing his boss effortlessly navigating his iPad, Yaw couldn't help but reflect, "It's not bad working under him, though."
The serenity was interrupted by the ringing of Detective Philip's iPhone. Breaking his concentration on the device, Philip answered the call with a brisk, "Alright, sure. Thanks," before swiftly ending the conversation. Returning his attention to his iPhone, he looked up something of significance, then shifted his gaze to Yaw, who was leisurely reclined in his chair.
"He's done with the car. He just sent me the tracking and location history of Rexford's car. I think we have somewhere to go," Detective Philip declared, retrieving his keys as he left his office, followed by the casually lounging Yaw.