10 years earlier

“A murder case? How dreary” Monica moaned.

“Quite so.” Enfield shook her solemnly. “Seventh this week alone. Supposedly by the same perpetrator.”

“Seven?” Cecil exclaimed. “Someone’s having a field day.” He tittered.

Chief Enflied sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you want to put it in such a macabre sense, sure. So far we have deduced they have been thrill kills. The majority of the victims are women. Their corpses left in a horrific state if I shall put it. The others being minorities. One was an Indian busboy who was murdered at his flat. Two others were black shoe shiners, coworkers murdered less than a day apart. Another was a homosexual man who was murdered in the ally near the bar Seventh’s Daughter. A place he frequented.

Adam’s mouth was agape. “Horrific. And we have no idea who could be doing this?”

“I’m afraid not.” She sighed. “But that’s where you three come in. Adam, my most adept protege, I want you to work with these two. Miss Monica Moore, a dedicated police officer since the ripe age of thirteen for personal reasons she can share with you if she wishes. After five years of hard work, she was promoted to detective. A difficult feat for a woman to speak from experience. You’ll have no trouble working with this one. Adam turned to face the young woman in front of him. Beautiful blond curls fell over her shoulders and back framing her pale but beautiful face perfectly. The delicateness of her face perfectly contrasted with the starkness of the sleek black suit she wore. Sharp eyes like sapphires stared back at him until she looked down to avert his gaze.

“Never stare. Have you any manners?” She spat.

“Oh. O-of course.”

Enfield chuckled airly, turning to the nearby short black-haired man. This one I can not vouch for. She said with a wag of a finger. Cecil Hans, a Prussian. There’s not much I can tell you about him and he will tell you even less. He came to Britain with the requirements to be a detective so we hired him. Shadiness aside, he does a nice job.

Cecil chuckled. “You speak as I am not standing here.”

Adam's gaze lingered on the man before him, his eyes tracing the contours of a face that seemed to hold secrets untold. There was a sensation stirring within him, unfamiliar yet captivating. The man's eyes, a striking shade of blue reminiscent of Monica's, bore into Adam's own with an intensity that held him transfixed. Unlike Monica's, however, these eyes seemed to possess a depth that beckoned Adam to explore further.

His attention drifted downwards, taking in the details of the man's appearance. Silky black bangs parted at his forehead, framing a pair of black-framed glasses. Adam couldn't help but notice how the tailored suit, matching Monica's, accentuated the man's slender frame in a way that sent a flush creeping up Adam's cheeks.

His gaze traveled further, noting the impeccable fit of the dress pants that completed the ensemble. Ink-colored with delicate white lines running down their length, they hugged the man's legs elegantly, stopping just above his ankles to reveal a glimpse of black dress socks and polished shoes. Someone had a favorite color.

Feeling a sense of intrusion, Adam tore his eyes away, only to be met with the suspicious gaze of the young man before him.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Something to ask?" the man sneered, his tone laced with thinly veiled risqueness.

Adam struggled to form coherent words. "You don’t look Prussian," he managed to stutter out.

"My mother was from France," Cecil replied, his response curt yet revealing nothing more than necessary.

“Moving on.” Enfield began. The Yard has been investigating this case alone for a while now. I was afraid of putting you three on a murder case so soon but it seems there is no choice. Starting tomorrow, you three will start an investigation of the murder. This includes examining crime scenes and detaining possible suspects. Do try your best. The result of this case will affect the progression of your careers.

“Of course, ma’am,” Monica replied obediently. “We won’t let you down.”

“I’d assume nothing else.” The Chief grinned. “But of course to solve a case you need to know what’s going on. Today, speak with Inspector Ironheel. He will fill you in on the details you missed. He should be at Scotland Yard. Run along now, you guys are dismissed.

Enfield turned on her heels, walking down a nearby corridor of the station.

“Well.” Adam sighed. “Let’s go find Ironheel.”

The trio stood together awkwardly outside the station waiting for a cab. Each trying to think of a conversation starter.

“So, Monica.” Adam began. “Thirteen years old. That’s quite early to become an officer.”

The golden-haired woman glanced up at Adam. “Oh, yes. I was quite ambitious.” She answered. Monica searched the man’s face. Slightly narrowed forest eyes and furrowed brows that seem to urge her to go on.

“My mother died in childbirth so I grew up with my father. He was an officer as well, my role model. To cut to the chase, he died in the line of duty. So of course, I followed his footsteps and decided to become an officer too. But I got tired of the desk work and decided to go one step further so here I am.”

“I see,” Adam said softly. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“Don’t be. I’m over it now. But you could repay me with your life story.”

Adam shuffled his feet. “I guess so, but it’s not interesting.” He replied. “My father was a wealthy landowner, my mother was just a housewife.”

“Oh, a rich boy!” Monica giggled.

“Pretty much.” He chuckled. “Not very interesting though. Neither of them were family people. My father was always at his gentlemen’s club. My mother was always spending frivolously with her friends. I mostly just out with myself. Reading a bunch of books and studying to become a detective so I could actually do something with my life. I couldn’t imagine sitting around being paid to do nothing like my father. Life was pretty simple up until I was a teen.”

“The struggles of the rich.” Cecil mocked.

“Whatever. Something happened that made him not like me much.”

“You gonna leave us hanging?” Monica asked. “What was it.”

“I uh,” Adam thought carefully about his response. “I can’t remember.” He lied. “I think I broke a family heirloom or such. For the first time in my life, he actually started to pay attention to me. Unfortunately, it was mostly just antagonizing me.” Adam got tired of reminiscing. “A few years later, he died from pneumonia. I was able to get on with my studies and become a detective. What about you Prussian boy?” Adam asked turning attention from him. “What’s your story.”

“Oh, not much.”

Adam waited for the story, but it never came. Soon their carriage rolled up.

As Adam and Monica settled into their seats, Cecil slouched in front of them, gazing wearily out of the window.

"Seven victims in just a week," Monica reflected, her voice tinged with concern. "I wonder how many in total."

"Thirteen," Adam replied, his tone somber. "He's been active for three months."

"Dear god," Monica gasped, her hand instinctively reaching for her chest. "Whoever could it be? They haven't detained any suspects!"

"We'll have to work even harder," Adam reassured her, trying to infuse some optimism into the grim situation. "I'm sure something will come up."

Adam shifted his attention to the passing scenery outside the window, his mind preoccupied with the urgency of the case. The thought of failing to apprehend the killer weighed heavily on him. How many more victims would there be if they couldn't bring this criminal to justice?

The sudden stop of the carriage jolted Adam out of his thoughts. "Everyone out," the gruff coachman announced. The trio exited the carriage after Cecil handed the driver a few coins, their minds still consumed by the pressing investigation.