Se connecterDetective Maria
Hours went by, and I kept studying his profile. The police hardly knew anything about this guy. Simply the descriptions of the crimes and the notes left by him had been jotted down in the case filed. According to the police, he would mostly steal expensive artefacts, delicate crafts, vases, everything that showed he had an artistic choice.
There was also this pattern. After every museum, he would rob a jewellery store. It didn't really make any sense until I had noticed that the jewellery store he would rob would be located near the robbed museum. That showed he moved from place to place....he was choosing to rob one area after another, and now the real question was which area he was going to rob next. Though, I knew he still had to rob a jewellery store of this town.
I was going to alert the police to secure all jewellery stores in this area tomorrow night because 'Black Fist' usually took a day to attack again.
We had to make things difficult for this man.
Now putting the file beside me, I decided to take a sip of my coffee and play some game on my laptop. Playing games had always helped me think. I would play strategic puzzle games, brain games and simple guessing games, and use the wheel-turning inside the brain. After learning a new thing about the Black Fist, I would try and connect the dots.
So far, what I knew about him was that he was a tall man; once I had figured out that he had robbed a museum all on his own...and the place he had left the note showed that he was tall. He seemed to belong to this country because this did not seem the work of a spy.
He was creative, interested in art, bored...and he had a strong hatred for the police. Also, most of his notes consisted of to-the-point messages:
'Black Fist was here'
'Catch Me'
'Do snooze away'
'Bored by your incompetence'
Most of these notes would be found lying on the floor of the crime scene, pasted on walls, or just pushing into some wall holes. With time, it seemed like Black Fist was growing bored with sending these messages. He was getting them printed, instead of writing them down; meaning he no longer wanted to put the effort into writing notes in such a manner that no one could figure out where they came from.
Hmmm.
I clicked on a fun puzzle game and then started guessing the word. Apparently, I had to make five words with the alphabets with a, c, t, e, f and b. I was funny how rearranging simple words could reveal cool words, just like I was doing with this case.
Wait a minute...
Another thought occurred in my mind. What if the messages sent...they had to be rearranged, too?
I was completely lost in the game now, quickly making five words: cat, bat, fate, bate and ate. The yellow lamp-light was falling on my laptop, partially on my face. I had completely zoned out the noise around me and was just thinking...thinking hard...thinking broadly.
What was the note that had been found today?
Yes...
'Strike one'
But what other words could strike one be changed into? Was this a hint that he was going to do something more...he had started having a count down, or could this strike one mean something else?
The next alphabets I had to use to make words were: b, h, e, m and g. I had to make 4 words with this.
"Detective Maria..." Asmara now walked up to me.
"The officers were just talking. We are just so glad to have you here. You are from the Lahore team, right? I have a cousin working there." She smiled, pulling a chair next to our desk.
This hall was honestly extremely crowded....had a window peering into the interrogation room. Every now and then, a woman criminal would be brought into this hall and be guided towards a red door near the entrance. That door led to the prison cells. And Next to that door was another wooden door that led to the chief's office. I had talked to her on the phone. Chief Nadia seemed nice.
"I am..." I nodded, looking away from the laptop. I wasn't good at making conversation. Never was....never had been. I was awkward and shy with it came to making small talk.
"What is your cousin's name?" I then asked, looking at her from over my eye-glasses.
"Mehreen." She shifted happily on her chair. This girl was bubbly, friendly. I was more on the serious side.
Mehreen...I had actually worked for her cousin. She was a principled woman who cared for her employees. I liked her. She had been a good mentor.
"She is a good boss," I promised, showing that I knew her cousin.
"She is. Her parents' divorce is the reason she joined the police office. I joined because I adore criminal psychology. What about you?"
"Huh?" I looked confused, not understanding what she was asking.
"Why did you become a detective?" She explained, now sitting backwards on the chair; she was facing me while her chair was turned towards the other direction.
"Oh," I patted my head awkwardly, turning my gaze towards my laptop. "I was passionate about justice." I simply explained, not wanting to get into details. That was a vulnerable side of me. I wouldn't let it resurface again, won't go back to those memories. They were just too painful, too heartbreaking, and I still their scar on my hands.
"Oh, so about this case..." she then spoke, gripping the head of the chair and resting her head on it...her eyes so attentive."Who do you think is doing this? I mean who is the man behind Black Fist?" she asked, looking so intrigued.
I felt like this case seemed extremely interesting to this girl.
"Umm...I am still working on it." I fidgeted with my fingers, working hard to keep eye contact. Small talks; they had me so shy and awkward.
"Do you think-"
"Listen..." I interrupted, taking a quick sip of my coffee to calm myself. "Do you play word games?" I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, tilting my head a little as I stared at her from above my glasses.
She looked confused by this change of topic. "Yes, I am a fan." She revealed.
"Good. If I write alphabets for you, will you make a word out of them?" I then asked, raising an eyebrow, as I leaned back against my chair and completely turned my chair in her direction.
"Umm...sure...of course..." She shrugged.
Happy by her answer, I grabbed one green sticky note and quickly started writing the alphabets on it.
e, e, i, k, o, n, s, t, r
I had basically broken down the word 'strike one'...and wanted her to use these alphabets. I wanted her take on them...what word she could come up with. In mind, I had seen these alphabets arranged as strike one, so I couldn't come up with more. But she could.
Sitting alert and watching her attentively, as she grabbed the sticky note from me and then started eyeing the alphabets that I had written. Thinking for a moment, she then pulled her chair closer towards my desk, pressed the sticky note against its brown surface, and quickly started scribbling on it.
I closed my laptop and quickly finished my coffee, giving her some time. Everyone had old-fashioned computers on their tables, except me. So my files had been piled up on so many desks that it was almost painful to watch. It disturbed my mind peace...made it feel so consumed.
"Done!" Asmara finally announced, making me turn towards her again. She handed the sticky note back to me.
'Soneer Kit'
"What is this?" I frowned, words written with curiosity.
"Oh, it is just this new shop that opened in town. I just bought a bracelet from there, this morning." She showed me her sparkling diamond bracelet, jiggling it a little. My eyes widened in realization.
Could it be...?
"Is it a jewellery shop?" I confirmed. She happily nodded.
Gotcha...
A smile appeared on my face.
I think I just figured out what 'Black Fist' had been trying to tell us. If he, indeed, was sending us a hidden message, it was clear that he telling us the name of the jewellery shop he was going to rob next. This man was courageous. He was flaunting truth before our eyes...playing with the police, fooling them, and mocking their brains openly.
He had plans...he had ideas, and he had an insider. No way he could be this brave if, at all times, he wasn't one step ahead of the police. He was in control. He was hinting, mocking and really into this chase. But, what did he want?
Maybe, I was thinking too deeply. Maybe, he really did only mean 'strike one', but still, what did he want? Was he simply bored...what was the reason behind this game?
I was lost in my thoughts when suddenly the police station's main-door opened and one female officer came barging in with a panicked look.
"Ladies...Black Fist has just struck again. This time, he has robbed Soneer Kit, the new jewellery shop, opened in town. The police are on the scene, already. Detective Maria...we need you there!" She called out. I curled my fists in fury. Shoot.
He had an idea he would do something like this. But still, this was a painful sacrifice.
Detective MariaI was sipping on my cup of coffee, thoughtfully focusing on the mystery. Asmara was sitting on the chair placed beside me. All the police officers were actively moving around the hall, making calls and trying to solve the mystery. I had given four officers to read the books sent to me.Clicking my pen against the desk, I was thinking...trying to make sense of Black Fist's message.'Only Fools chase after deadly traps'The cooling fan was pleasantly cooling the air around me, the lamp reflecting on my brown wooden desk. I had my feet folded and rested on the legs of my revolving chair. Asmara was studying the note that Black Fist had sent to me.Earlier, one officer had asked me details for what had happened at my place. Many officers had already been sent to search my place for any clues.I had told the truth...the blatant truth and explained that I believed that the Black Fist hadn't left any fin
Detective MariaThe next day, I stepped into the chief's office while carrying the white piece of notice in a white bag. I had broken the 'glass' shield to get it. Asmara had welcomed me at the entrance, saying that she had left my coffee cup on my desk. I had smiled in gratitude.Now knocking on the door, I breathed in as Chief Nadia allowed me in. She was talking on her phone, with a load of files placed on her desk. Upon seeing me, a pleasant smile appeared on her face.
Detective MariaSooner Kit shop had been completely robbed. The shop's owner was an old man who seemed to no longer have the heart to go back inside his shop. He was crying, sobbing and sniffing, as one police officer sympathetically slapped his back. I had decided to step inside the shop and look around...observe the crime scene carefully. I would prefer observing before taking pictures.The shop was small. It had glass decors and brown wooden cupboards. A tube light was enough to light this place, and there were no backdoors. No getaways.
Detective MariaHours went by, and I kept studying his profile. The police hardly knew anything about this guy. Simply the descriptions of the crimes and the notes left by him had been jotted down in the case filed. According to the police, he would mostly steal expensive artefacts, delicate crafts, vases, everything that showed he had an artistic choice.There was also this pattern. After every museum, he would rob a jewellery store. It didn't really make any sense until I had noticed that the jewellery store he would rob would be located near the robbed museum. That showed he moved from place to place....he was choosing to rob one area after another, and now the real question was which area he was going to rob next. Though, I knew he still had
There had been paintings stolen. A highly functional art museum was now facing extreme security and financial crisis, because 'Dark Fist' had decided to strike again. The police were in bits. This had been going on for so long, and no one knew how to catch this guy. The insult had to be even huger for the police, because like always, the criminal mastermind had left a token...an untraceable card that mocked the police to catch him.All the officers were gathered around the crime scene. The art museum had been so beautiful. It had included abstract paintings, pictures of greenery and unanimated things. It was the most famous in town, and just in one night, all of its pictures had been stolen.The police had arrived at this place in the morning
The loner in school, the last one to get picked, Fawad had learned at a young age that the society had already set cliques for people. The judged and they broke, so there was no point in living up to their expectations.He had been abandoned at an old home at a very young age...found himself wondering why a mother with a heart made to love had left him behind in a dark place. He spent his teens being tortured at the shelter place, mocked because of his interest in Great histories and planet studies. So many times, children had punched him enough to cause his teeth to fall out.He was shy, quiet and studious; a perfect combination that attracted so many bitter souls to treat him as a punching bag.