In another part of the town, a small building stood in stark contrast to the towering structures surrounding it. An old, weathered sign above the entrance read 'POLICE'.
On the front porch, a middle-aged man wearing a black uniform with a protruding belly paced nervously. Sweat dripped from his balding scalp, betraying his anxiety. He stopped abruptly and peered into the building.
"Hey, Allen! Get out here!"
Moments later, a young man with a freckled face rushed outside, snapping into a salute.
"Sir!"
Robert scratched his head, his agitation apparent as he stared at Allen.
"Boy, are you absolutely sure the person they sent is Detective Glenn? You checked properly, right? Could it be a mistake?"
Allen shook his head firmly. "I'm positive, sir. The letter specifically said Detective Glenn. If you'd like, I can fetch it for you to confirm."
"Forget it, forget it," Robert muttered, waving him off.
With a groan of frustration, he grabbed at the thinning strands of hair on his head and kicked the wall, cursing under his breath.
"Bloody, bloody bugger! Arse-kissing idiots, all of them! I keep this town in order, and the moment some pompous rich fool gets put down, suddenly good old Robert isn't good enough anymore. And who do they send? Bloody Detective Glenn! Damn it!"
"Why the vulgar language, Chief Robert? Am I not welcome here?"
A cold voice spoke from behind him, sending Robert spinning around in a panic.
Standing there was a tall man with neatly combed blond hair and sharp glasses. His icy gaze was fixed on Robert, and his presence radiated authority.
Robert's demeanor shifted instantly. His face broke into a forced grin as he hurriedly descended the steps to meet the man.
"No, no, no! You must have misheard! How could you not be welcome? Just… ah, some family troubles, you know. Makes everyone a bit fussy. Nothing to worry yourself about."
Detective Glenn regarded him with a faint trace of disdain but said nothing. He shook his head and stepped inside, leaving Robert to trail behind with his obsequious smile.
"Round up everyone currently on duty," Glenn commanded as he entered. "Gather all details related to the case. Everything. I want every rumor, every scrap of information, no matter how insignificant. Do it now—I have a sneaky murderer to catch."
........
"Pass me those scissors," Rose said, not looking up from the wide piece of fabric she was cutting.
"Alright."
Annabelle picked up a pair of scissors from the nearby table and handed them to her.
It had already been a few days since the murder rocked the town. Annabelle, determined to earn her keep and stop relying on Jeffrey's meals, had ventured out to find work. She had some sewing skills from her village days and decided to try her luck at the local tailor's shop. To her surprise, the most popular seamstress in town turned out to be Rose—the same woman she had met on the day of the murder. Recognizing Annabelle and impressed by her sewing skills, Rose had gladly hired her as an assistant.
Annabelle watched as Rose worked swiftly, cutting the fabric into precise shapes. Finally, unable to keep her curiosity at bay, she spoke.
"Rose, about the other day… does that sort of thing happen often here?"
"You mean the murder?" Rose paused mid-cut and glanced at Annabelle, who nodded. Shrugging, she resumed cutting.
"Murder's nothing special here. Happens every day, especially in the slums. People kill over scraps—a disputed cube of sugar could cost you your life. What made this one different was the victim. Usually, it's just common folk getting killed. No one cares much about that. But this time, it was one of the town's wealthy men. That's why there's so much fuss."
"This place is that dangerous? Why then is no one doing anything about it?" Annabelle asked, bewildered.
Rose set the pieces of fabric aside and moved to a sewing machine. As she threaded it, her voice carried a note of cynicism.
"They don't care. The rich only care about their money. We could all massacre each other in the streets, and as long as their profits aren't affected, they wouldn't bat an eye."
Rose turned to Annabelle with a serious expression. "You should be extra careful when you step outside these days. With a wealthy man murdered, things are going to get a little messy."
Annabelle nodded solemnly. "I see. I'll be careful."
"Good." Rose returned to her work. "It wasn't always like this, you know. When the Wright family was one of the town's leaders, things were much better. Too bad the plague wiped them out."
At the mention of the Wright family, Annabelle's ears perked up. She leaned closer, intrigued.
"Really? That's what happened to them?"
Rose nodded, her expression softening. "Yes. A real tragedy. It was the talk of the town for months." She lingered on the thought for a moment before shaking it off.
"Enough chitchat. Get to cutting the other fabrics. We've got plenty to do today."
Annabelle nodded and got back to work, her thoughts still lingering on what she just heard.