The Murder

My office was a rather small but generously spacious area which housed all I had to give it well. It consisted of my shelf which hosted lots of case files and books, my small table and a chair, as well as a 15 inches plasma TV. The walls are decorated with different certificates of excellence from all levels, from national to local. On my table can be vividly seen a case file which had recently been stamped “Case Closed” in red by me, a calendar with lots of markings on it, lots of books scattered here and there, my .99mm pistol in its holster as well as a name plate bearing my name, Detective Larry Christopher.

I swiveled around in my chair to face the window and looked outside the city, rubbing my palms together and a slight grin crossing my face. I was happy that since I was brought into this unit, crime had reduced drastically, more cases have been solved and I would go down in history books as part of the people who made that happen. How happy I was. Now I can take a little vacation and feel in my mind that I really deserve it.
I was still locked into this school of thought when my secretary barged into the office, without knocking. With the agility of a trained officer, I turned around in my chair so fast I could see a glint of fear in her eyes.

“Sorry if I scared you”, I started, “what’s it?”
“There’s a call for you, sir” she answered
“A call? I thought you’re supposed to manage all my calls”
“Yes. I’m sorry sir. But the caller kept asking for you and is refusing to talk unless its to you. He sounds pretty agitated, in my opinion”
“Okay, lemme have it”. I stretched my hand forward and collected the office phone from her. I pulled the antennae and spoke into the mouthpiece.
“Hello. Detective Larry here. I was told you wish to speak to me”
“Yes, is it safe?”, the speaker asked with a shaky voice.
“Yes it is. You can speak freely”
“Sir. I .. I.. Wa… Want you to he… Help me. I have little time left. You must help me”.
He was surely afraid of someone or something as he couldn’t get out a straight sentence without stuttering.
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” I further inquired, still amiss.
“I’m being followed cos of something I made, a breakthrough. Please help me. Meet me at the opera house in 15 minutes. Please be fast”
“Wait. What do —”

I heard the dial tone before I could continue. This didn’t seem like a prank call at all. He sounded really distressed. I had to get to him and do it fast. These people just wouldn’t let you rest. Criminals.
“What’s it sir?”, my secretary, who had been standing before me broke the silence.
“Nothing. Tell Wale and Ben to meet me downstairs in a minute. And tell them they should bring a force car”
“Right away, sir”.
She left the office while I closed my window blinds, holstered my weapon to my belt and left the office.
I met the two cops I had requested downstairs already. I entered the vehicle and told them where to go. Within minutes, we were at the opera house, but the sight we met was unwelcome. Large bodies of people gathered around a certain something. I flashed my badge a couple of times as I tore through the crowd and what I saw literally made a hole in my heart. A man had been murdered mercilessly and his hand had been cut away, his right hand. Beside him was a phone and a chain. I checked the phone’s caller ID. It was the same man that called me. This, I thought, is another case that’ll keep me away from my vacation..