Chapter 2

“I hope you did not disturb anything in this room?” The spiky-haired detective asked pulling on latex gloves.

“Well,” Mr. Brand began sheepishly “We did try to wake him and the guards. Then the doctor examined him so...” He shrugged helplessly.

The two detectives nodded. The doctor had been the one to inform the detectives of the double murder. He had said that there had been a sickly sweet smell like that of anaesthetic gas.

After gazing at the body tied to the bedpost and the body of the two guards that lay slumped across the bedroom floor for a few moments, the two cops went to work. After a few minutes of careful examination of the room, they confirmed the doctor’s examination of the wounds, found two empty anaesthetic gas dispensers in the ventilation grills and a motion detector connected to the dispensers present under the doormat.

Gathering the evidence, the men pulled off their gloves and bidding the butler goodbye walked out of the main door into the morning sunshine.

*****

“So what do you think of this whole affair, George?” the detective asked his spiky-haired partner lighting another cigar. The men were strolling towards the inn where they were temporarily staying.

“Firstly, the victim was gagged tightly so he couldn’t scream for help. I believe a knife was then driven in slowly and methodically to inflict the maximum amount of pain. It was twisted inside to tear as many organs as possible. After that, it was drawn out so that Mr. Derek Johnson would bleed out. The death was neither quick nor painless. Also, being tied up so securely, he couldn’t end his own life. And the guards were killed by some pointed weapon that struck only the vital parts. Jim, the killer has to be cool-minded and completely devoid of heart.”

“And all this happens just when we came here after taking a long-overdue leave.” Jim sighed taking a deep draught. “Though, if we see it from the killer’s point of view, supposing he is this Tören boy; he is right.”

“Jim!” George exclaimed, shocked. “We are detectives; it’s our job to catch murderers not defend them!”

“Fine, fine. I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to catch him, did I? I was only...” A sudden movement caught his eye and reflexively he brought out his Glock 17 pistol, the movement mirrored almost immediately by his partner.

“It’s useless officers. We have you surrounded and outnumbered.” The voice came from behind one of the huts that dotted the countryside.

“Who are you? What do you want from us?” George asked his voice not betraying even an ounce of tension.

“Cool customer,” Jim thought.

Many figures stepped out from behind the houses driving home the point that the detectives were indeed...surrounded. “You, cigar guy, you were the last person to see Master Johnson alive. You are coming with us. We want to know whether you killed him or not.”

“Ah, the loyal hounds that Brand mentioned,” Jim noted to himself.

“Unbelievable,” Jim commented snidely, “When the loyal dogs fail in their job; they lay the blame on someone else.” The detective raised his voice, “You goddamned fools, you are barking up the wrong tree. We are detectives, not bloody killers.”

“Oh, is that so? Then you should have nothing to hide. We will just ask you a few questions and if they are satisfactory, you can go free.”

The way he said it sent chills down the detectives’ spine. Sharing a look they arrived at a consensus. “I’ll come but my partner will be there too. Also, I want your word on you dead Master that no harm will come to us unless we are proved guilty beyond doubt.” Jim said.

“Beat that, you son of a b*tch.” Jim thought smugly keeping his face an impregnable mask.

“You are not the one who sets the terms here, officer.” The man answered grimly.

“Ugh, f*ck. He beat that out of the park. Oh, well.” Jim’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He had thought the bodyguards might hold honour in high esteem like the butler.

“Very well, we’ll go with you.”