A Detective's Story

Chapter Three

Before I can even gasp,

I feel a hand gripping mine.

I heard the clang of my pocket knife hitting the dumpster.

I just had to lose the one weapon I had.

Now let's just hope that this was just a coincidence and the man that's preventing me from falling,

Isn't the serial killer.

Or let's say, The Coffee Killer.

The people of this city have decided to call him the Coffee Killer because of the scent he leaves at the crime.

As I am swinging there, I hit my nose on the goddamn ladder.

I feel blood gush out of my nose.

Great, theres a chance I am holding the hand of the Coffee Killer, I lost the only think I can defend myself with, and my nose is fucking bleeding.

Honestly, I don't care about the nose bleed.

But it might stain my outfit.

I hesitantly regain my footing on the ladder.

The man above me is wearing a balaclava.

I don't see those often . . . at least here in Onyxbury,

I have only seen one three times.

And it was all for evidence of a crime scene.

The man is also wearing a hoodie.

And his eyes are green.

I used to wish I had lighter color eyes,

But if I did, I would look like a fucking demon.

Brown eyes are prettier anyways.

But his eyes are actually quite pretty.

If he actually is the serial killer, I'd get canceled for that statement.

I never understood the romantic obsession with serial killers.

It's all fun and games until they chop you up and stuff you in a bin.

I feel the man pull me up a little.

That's when I realized how long I've been hanging there.

I quickly use my free hand to climb up.

The man pulling me up makes it easier.

As soon as I reach the top, I get a more clear look at his face.

His eyebrows looked like they had just been done.

And his eyelashes were much longer than mine.

That bastard.

It's unfair.

Anyways, you might wonder why I mentioned these things.

Again, I am a detective, I need to pay attention.

By now, we are both standing.

We kind of just stand and stare at each other.

He's still holding my hand,

I wanted to quickly snatch my hand away, just in case he was the killer.

But, if he isn't, that'd be quite awkward . . . and rude.

"Thank you." I say after some awkward silence.

I made sure my voice was steady and stern, in case he is the Coffee Killer, so he doesn't even think to mess with me.

"No problem, do you need a tissue ma'am?" he says.

He sounds polite.

I would say 'Too nice to be a serial killer'.

But that's how you end up being killed by one.

No ones ever 'Too nice' to do something evil.

He has a french accent.

It sounds cool, but again,

I won't risk saying that to a potential serial killer.

"No thanks, I'll be alright." I say as I remember the blood that's probably gushing out of my nose as we speak.

I probably look stupid.

"Alright ma'am" he says slowly, as if he's skeptical.

I would be skeptical too, but whatever.

I decide to snap out of my thoughts and focus on the mission at hand.

I already made a terrible decision today, and can't really afford to do it once again.

"What's your name?" I say, forcing a kind smile.

I need to get as much info as possible if he actually is the serial killer.

"D-" he says before looking down at my chest.

For a second, I thought that some blood dropped onto my shirt.

And then I realize, I have my fucking badge imprinted on my blazer.

It's not required, but it makes me look fucking awesome.

Well, it's not so awesome now.

He probably doesn't want to give me his information because he knows I'll catch him if he does.

My suspicions are through the roof right now.

And they are confirmed when he starts sprinting over the rooftops.

I follow him.

This skirt makes it hard to run.

Being a sexy vintage detective isn't going to help me now.

I scold myself for dressing like this but I focus on the task.

Which is chasing this man down.

We jump over rooftops, he is a good runner and jumper.

I am as well . . . when I am not being dragged down by my own fucking skirt.

I have to admit, I fall behind every once in a while but for the most part I am keeping up.

I would yell at him, but I don't have the breath for that right now.

It's better to keep your mouth closed when running.

Before the next thought goes through my mind, I feel some fabric hit me against the face, and I go crashing to the ground.

Thank goodness I wasn't jumping from rooftop to rooftop at the moment, otherwise that would be bad.

I take the hoodie off my face frustratedly.

That bastard threw his fucking hoodie at me.

I quickly realize, that's probably a good thing.

This hoodie has just been released recently.

And by that I mean like a week ago.

The store owners could possibly track the order.

And they can check the cameras.

I know his name starts with D.

I know his eye color.

I am not sure about his height, but he was a giant.

We'll be able to find him in no time!

I chuckle to myself, remembering how frustrated I was at first.

But now, I might have just got the key to solving this case.

"Thank you Mr Coffee!" I yell out, in case he's still around.

I smirk and turn around, as I head back to the others.