Chapter Sixteen - Next Steps

  The forgotten file has been retrieved, and with it, the mystery behind the insider, and the veil of shadow around Detective Roosevelt’s death, have successfully been lifted. Before we headed to analyze the rich contents of this hefty file, I wanted to pay proper respects to Roosevelt – a detective whose death will not be in vain. Without his sacrifice, a whole branch of this case would have been severed, and the person who it involved strapped to a chair, lifeless.

  I have gone ahead and recovered his detective’s hat from the evidence room. A tradition for us detectives here is to place and decorate their office with something that resembles them. For Roosevelt, that hat is his resemblance, because out of everyone in this building, he is the only person who decided to wear one along with the trench coat. Truthfully speaking, I will miss him.

  As for the turnover on this whole operation, our reward is the file obtained from Watkins, which presumably contains the necessary details to continue our investigation. Sylphie and I have gotten back to our office, and for the rest of the day, we did nothing but analyze the hell out of whatever was in that file.

  These following thoughts and transcripts are a summarization of everything that we came to learn from the insides of this forsaken piece of information.

  First and foremost, there is a crucial distinction to be made. This case is titled ‘C-3956’, which abides by the usual scheme of crime naming, and not the special one that refers to ‘MC-13’. The reason for this discrepancy is simple – the date of this file is from ten years ago, right around the time I first became a detective at the humble age of twenty. That written-down date made me extremely disappointed in not only Watkins, but also the DPD. I was given this case under the guise that it was only three years old, but as I went more and more into it, I realized that it was a bold-faced lie. MC-13 dates back to twenty years ago, possibly even more, back when the Flawless took the lives of Faust’s parents. As for Watkins’ investigation efforts, he only noticed this murderer ten years ago, still leaving a massive undisclosed gap for us to ponder upon.

  However, there is some merit to be found already – Watkins was a detective working on MC-13, or rather, C-3956. Back then, he was a simple B-tier detective, someone who could still be liked by the rest of the detective workforce. I presume that he was never the same after whatever happened during his exploration.

  There are several pages worth of information regarding the things that we already know about MC-13. A few things were exempt from this, however, such as the multiple culprit theory, and the killing method. It seems that Watkins was not near my level when it came to being a detective, since he barely discovered anything new in his first month on the case. In my experience, I came to discover half the truth about MC-13 in less than two weeks, not to mention the attainment of the murder weapon, and even the discovery of previous investigation efforts.

  As I continued to read through the file, with Sylphie paraphrasing my words into a document, I gathered more intel on what was happening ten years ago at the precinct. When I said that Watkins hasn’t discovered anything I haven’t, it was a partial lie – there are a few things that he noticed, even though it took three months for him. For instance, he noticed a correlation between the victims that has seemingly changed overtime. The victims back then consisted of older couples, parents, and in general, people with someone by their side. A personal note from the detective ten years ago revealed that he discovered this phenomenon from a clue given by the culprit himself. That sure is interesting – the Flawless never resorted to contacting his enemies from what I know. The fact that this occurred to Watkins means that he might have been aware of his identity to some extent.

  His efforts continued on and on, until they simply became in vain. The whole report on the case spanned three years. As I lined the dates on a timeline, I noticed something atrocious. While Faust was drowning in her sorrows due to not being able to investigate MC-13, Watkins was investigating that very case without her knowledge. If he happened to talk with her back then, I’m sure her story would have been very different. Perhaps they would have conjoined their strengths and spearheaded the hunt against the Flawless all those years ago. However, that never occurred, and Faust was left to crumble. It was simply Watkins’s ego and unawareness that made him unable to obtain help. As far as I could tell, there was no Assistant Detective to aid him during his troubles, meaning that he was all alone to do this monumental task. Perhaps he did not know the extent of this unfortunate case.

  I had several questions. Why did he feel the need to obfuscate certain parts of the file? Numerous pages were rashly torn out at the end, which are usually the conclusive thoughts. However, here, that part is right before the torn-out pages. This signifies that there is more that Watkins learned all those years ago, but at some point in time, he decided that the world would not hear it. Except one page, that is. A single page was left from this group, and it had some kind of last will glued to it.

  “My name is Jonathan Watkins, and I am a detective of the DPD.

  Take this letter as my final words as a detective, for he has been killed. I, as a person, am still alive, but the detective within – he is dead. Killed, subdued by that vengeful man, the one whose voice echoed through the receiver as he read out the instructions.

  I have become his puppet, and with that, I no longer desire to live. Silence was my order, and his identity vanished into the mist once again. He moved only once, but my board has been swept clean.

  The name of this man is not known to me, nor did he ever introduce himself. He only called once, and it was enough to rob me of everything.

  My family was threatened, my closest friends were threatened. Even my colleagues, and even my love weren’t spared from his wrath. All that I have ever loved about this world has been taken hostage, and I will only be hollow from now on.”

  Then, he was not lying about blackmail. Truth is, Watkins was contacted by the Flawless, maybe even multiple times. And during those conversations, he received tips on how to find him. Those are only my assumptions, and they are subject to change. However, the last contact was different – it involved the cessation of his investigation efforts, and his eternal silence ever since. That is the reason this file was hidden, if anyone ever came to learn of the contents of this file, Watkins would have lost everything.

  “Sucks to be him,” Sylphie said.

  “Poor lad – maybe he shouldn’t take advice from strangers next time.”

  Our exchange was strangely morbid. The thought at laughing over a dead man was downright cruel, even though it was Watkins. However, the deed has been done, and the consequences of our actions are irreversible. There is nothing we can do for him, except finish this investigation before the Flawless gets to him.

  As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think that there is more we can analyze today. Our strength and focus started to wane six hours into it, and further information would require reading between the lines. Sylphie looked as if she was in a dire need of two weeks’ worth of sleep, and that was the final sign for me to call it off today. The watch read ’17:12’, and I was ready to head home. So, I tucked the half-asleep Sylphie into her improvised mattress bed, and closed the door to the office behind me.

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  I was well on my way out of the building, thinking that the day had gone by in a pretty successful manner. I learned of the backstory regarding Watkins and MC-13. However, when I tried to summarize it, I couldn’t say much more. Did all of this effort amass to only removing Watkins from his post? Even that is a victory, but not one for MC-13. There were a few tidbits about the choice of victims here and there, but in truth, this was not much progress. Even less so when I realized that I was back to the waiting stage. As for the Nine Day Rule, I have exhausted its usefulness. After what went down at Good E’s, I can hardly believe that the Flawless will be back to his scheduled murders. Even thinking about it like that, resorting to waiting for the murders to happen instead of preventing them is a failure on my part as a detective.

  I really had hoped that there would be more from this file. My face adopted a wry look on my way out, making others seem like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Enough time has passed for my escapades to spread around the precinct, and each and every detective kept their gaze on me as I left. There was a wide array of expressions – amazement, awe, envy, hate, and presumably even more. Every single one of these people had a certain opinion of me, however varied it may be. However, one face showed up, one that I have encountered before, and one that stood in front of the door, blocking my way.

  “Detective Debrief.”

  The most well-respected man in the precinct stood in my path. An S-tier just like me, yet a complete opposite of everything that I am. The detective dressed very differently from any other one, as he wore a slick and debonair suit, contrasting the usual attire of other detectives. His facial area and golden-brown hair are neatly pampered, almost too perfectly. His stance showed that he had something to say, and it was nothing positive, given his expression.

  “You seem contented, Detective Capleaf. What is the occasion?”

  “I’m clocking out for the day – that is the occasion.”

  He had this sense of passive-aggression to him. This whole time, he was busy collecting small-fry cases to boost his record, and now is when he shows up? I had a feeling that nothing regarding this conversation will be good.

  “Nearly an hour before the clock, huh,” he hinted at something.

  “I’m done for today – not into playing these ‘shifts’, or whatever.”

  “That is accordant.”

  The air between us was tense and seemingly heavy. Something about his appearance here is strangely intimidating. Debrief is no rookie, despite me calling him that during our last meeting. In fact, he was the only detective comparable to my level, both in deduction and critical thinking. This small-talk is definitely not his intention, and I can tell that he has a vendetta against me.

  He took a deep breath. “You plunged the DPD into disarray. Jonathan Watkins has been found dead by the Lunerise Bridge. Cause of death: suicide by falling.”

  I was visibly taken aback by his words. “What?”

  “It was you who last talked to him, and you caused quite the commotion in his office. Again, you seem contented.”

  Watkins killed himself. It is poor of me to think of him like this, but it was expected. He revealed his sole secret to the Main Detective of MC-13 – to the person after his blackmailer. The Flawless would have found out eventually, he only accelerated his last moments in order to not prolong his suffering.

  “Watkins was hiding key evidence to my case.”

  “Prove it, Detective Capleaf,” he smirked.

  At that moment, I knew exactly what was going on, and it was a foul play on his part. Debrief had used the opportunity provided by Watkins’ suicide in order to set up this encounter – right here, in front of the whole DPD. He planned on ruining my reputation to the ground right where we stood by upending me to the death of the director. His play is to make it seem like I drove him to madness, which is not far from the truth. What is he thinking?

  Debrief is a man who relishes his reputation. Everything about his looks says that. He wants to portray himself as the icon of detective work, and to do that, he needs to overthrow the actual icon – me. As for how he wants to do that, he wants me to show I lack proof, allowing him to state anything about me as truth or lie. And in truth, I do lack proof. From the outside view, it all matches up. I barged into Watkins’ office this morning, left with a mysterious file, and am now walking away with glee in my step as he died. Everything matches up to his plans.

  For the first time, I was driven into a corner by none other Detective Debrief. He was like a cunning fox, except he was magnitudes more astute. It is not like he is reaping his benefits here, he is actively making my situation worse by doing this. If I lose the face of the DPD, I could very well end up in the same rut as Watkins, being threatened by the Statute of Disapproval, which also applies to other detectives in special scenarios.

  “I retrieved a file from him that contains his handwritten note on his involvement with my case. It doesn’t get any simpler than that. Everything inside that document adds up – there is no need to suspect me of being a kinslayer.”

  “Kinslayer, huh,” he made a brief response to my defense.

  Everything about how he interrogates is strikingly effective. He reacts to the worst of your sentence, pretending to accuse you of something, sparking the chance of self-incrimination easily. Not only that, but his green eyes are surprisingly lively for such a cold and calculated person.

  He continued. “Show me this note. If it is genuine, I could consider leaving you off the hook.”

  I rummaged through my bag to find the file with the note. It takes a bit of shuffling to get the note out, but I manage and show it to him.

  He calmly responded. “Hm.”

  “Well? Does that satisfy you, Debrief? Can you let me go home now?”

  “I must admit, I am satisfied. Thank you for showing me this,” he claimed with a smile as he handed me the note back.

  “Thanks for wasting my time,” I say as I pass him with a few slow steps, leaving the premises.

  It was deathly silent as I took the first few steps outside. My heart was beating faster than usual, and I had a strange sense of missing something. It seemed like he read the note too fast with how quickly he replied.

  “This note was written recently,” he called out.

  My heart skipped several beats, and my eyes widened. His words stopped me in my tracks, trembling. There is no way that is possible. How? That letter was written by Watkins back when he ended his detective job on MC-13 of the past! If his intuition serves right, then that means…!

  “It only proves you planted it, Detective Capleaf.”

  This devious bastard! He is the greatest example of a Machiavellian man, unrelentingly making his own way forward, no matter the cost. I could only look back at him as he gazed at me with the most accusatory expression I have ever seen. An S-tier like him would not be wrong about the quality of ink. How could I have overlooked something so simple as freshly written ink? To hell with it – he mentioned the only thing that could have incriminated me! The note being freshly made is aligned with the fact that Watkins’ safe was untouchable beforehand! The only way I could be holding this note right now is if I made it myself and placed it there!

  But that is not the case. I did not make that note, nor would I have the intention of making it. There are only two places in time where this could have been possible – before I arrived in the office, and…? Think! There must be another possibility!

  “I think there is nothing you need to say – your face says it all,” he uttered with disappointment.

  “No! You are mistaken! It must have been placed before I got in the office!”

  In the face of my yelling, he remained composed, and his expression still exuded disappointment towards me. He knew I got desperate, and truthfully, my claim does not sound believable. He won this encounter fully. Debrief twisted the truth to suit his ways, and with that, he rendered a piece of my evidence useless to boot.

  The detectives inside the building were watching this whole exchange with curious looks. What resides on their faces now, however, is the gaze of judgement. Even the colleagues who eagerly shared stories with me on a daily basis are turned against me. Damn you, Debrief! To think that you would strike when I never expected it. You knew I was worn down after almost two weeks of endlessly investigating of the most demanding case of the precinct. You waited and waited until my senses dulled, and then you showed up to harvest the fruits of your labor. And with that, Debrief, you have shaken the pedestal I stand upon. You have given me the reputation of a kinslayer and portrayed me as a by-proxy murderer. I will not forget this, never.