Detected

Chapter 1

In the bitter cold and clashing of shivery winds of England, 1940, numbing bites of ice would be stuck on the fragile glass of porch lights and windows, and every footstep would eventually get sheltered by soft, newly snow. But these certain footsteps left on the cold concrete were crisp and fresh -- as if they were recent, and in which, they were. A young gentleman was abruptly scurrying, attempting to hold his balance due to the ice, towards a slim-like apartment building. Despite of having an old century look to it, it did look somewhat homely and snug, in a way. He eventually made a rigid pause as soon as he was near the aged structure, delicately struggling for the keys in his coat pocket, and soon enough made it inside, then closed the door. As he leaned on the door, he took a gasp of air before exhaling in relief for a moment. He then stood back up again, when preparing to hang his coat, he heard a grunting, disappointed sigh from behind, in which it startled him. “Mr. James, you are rather late. Again.” the old man stated, in a slight raspy voice. James shivers for a small while, dipping his head down to show some sort of apology. “I-I’m truly sorry, sir. The walk ways are awfully rough again this time of month and--”

“I don’t want to hear it.” as the old individual interrupted with. “You are late almost everyday, no matter what month, weather, day, year, it’s the same ol’.” James attempts to apologize again, but it is no use after coming in late almost every time. The only thing he could do was show some apology, and walk off in his office. His small workplace was awfully small, though it was suitable for him. The floorboard was made out of old delicate wood, and the walls were somewhat the same, but more of a darker tint color. A semi-dusty desk, his own personal coat hanger, cabinets and a single window were the only things that gushed his office with decor and overall the only things in that workplace. No more, nor less. As James walked over to his table top desk, he faintly brushed the dust off his fedora, and positioned it upon his head. For a few minutes, a slight knocking sound was against the wood to catch his attention. “Good M--” the individual hesitated. “Afternoon. James.” The fellow detective said, leaning against the edges of his doorway. He had a disappointing expression on his face, but he horribly attempted to cover it away. “...Afternoon, Tom.” James said, with a hint of a guilty and hesitant tone. Tom then sighed a little under his breath, taking something from behind his back, letting it go, carelessly, and allowing it to smack against James’ desk. James was confused. “It's a document...” Tom opens the folder up. “ …While you were late, a crime has happened not to long ago. It happened near a general store with a couple old folk. Individuals were unaware of what cause it was, but, there was blood founded there…” Tom glances up at James, raising an eyebrow. James seems to be a little squeamish about murder n’ blood type of stuff, but he manages to tough it out and gestures for him to continue. “... The boss wants us to figure it out, alright? All the others are gone or whatnot.” James nods his head. “Yeah - of course.” Tom mimics his nod, closing the folder and tucking it away. “Glad to hear. I'll see you later on the scene. Now remember…” he gives him a glare. “Don't be late.” After that statement, he then walks off. Leaving James rather puzzled, it was so sudden to automatically be called on a crime scene. James really wasn't the one to do the solving, so, why him? His curiosity grew but so did his over thinking. He didn't want to believe that he was victim, or anything of the sort. He couldn't back down now. The only thing he could do was take deep breaths and carry on with his work.