Chapter 1
Who Is The Culprit?
Snow is falling, white and crisp. In pure contrast to my black dress, reaching just past my knees, and black boots that stretch over white socks.
I've never personally been a fan of white on black, it's just too... Stark. Purely shouting, 'Look at me, I'm desperate for attention'.
Sometimes, though, it's okay. I mean, every once in a while, (Not today.) I'll wear a white headband to pull back my short blond hair. But I always wear my dress. Always.
My skin is only slightly pale, though tinted red from the chill in the December air. But pale skin brings out my eyes, making them shine a brighter blue than they would normally.
My boots crunch in the snow, leaving behind footprints as the only traces that I was ever here.
I saw his ad in the paper, 'assistant needed, ~Len', and I figured I might as well try out for the job. Being a detectives assistant can't be difficult.
I've been investigating him privately for nearly a year now... He seems to always be involved in certain cases, usually the ones involving stolen money. And after I looked into that a bit, the person arrested for the crime never seems to add up... And, digging deeper, it seems he never has an alibi. If he is the murderer, his motive is surely money, for the victim is always missing something valuable. And he's not usually suspected of the crimes, because... Well, who would expect the detective to work his own cases? He's a well-respected man, this Len. In fact, his father was a detective before him, but died during a particularly dangerous case.
Everyone expected Len to be the same great, all-powerful detective, and that's what he's been. At least, to everyone else he has.
I find it odd that the man never has an alibi, and that the culprit always seems framed.
I approach his door, walking up the stone walkway, the gnarled and twisted trees lifeless and dark, contrasting the snow almost as much as my own uniform.
Raising my hand to knock on the dark-wood door, I take a deep breath. I could very well be knocking on the door of a murderer.
*~*Len*~*
I received a letter yesterday, stating that a possible assistant will be arriving today to apply for the job.
She seems credible enough, having solved quiet a few cases for her age... How old was she, anyway? I ask myself, shuffling through the papers she sent me through mail.
Rin Age: 13 Cases solved: 16
It's rather impressive, actually. I'll probably hire her on the spot.
She's only two years younger than I am, and she's already solved nearly as many cases as I have. My record so far being 21.
Of course, I don't really solve them. It's much more complicated than that. I can't very well solve them unless I want to be hanged, or lose my head. Neither of which sounds very... Appealing.
But this girl, she has no idea. Rin. No idea what she's about to walk into.
Of course, enchanting her is always an option. It's something I can manage with relative ease. I'm defiantly not ugly, with my light blond hair kept in a short ponytail, and my bright blue eyes, I can be very... Cunning. But no, I'm not big-headed, I'm honest.
I'll have to see about this girl, though. She might be trouble. I wonder, can she keep a secret?
Suddenly, someone knocks lightly at my door. This must be her, now.
*~Rin~*
He swings open the large door, and I step back in surprise. He isn't at all bad-looking, in fact, he's well-dressed and charming.
But then again, murderers are people too. People of all shapes and sizes, I musn't allow myself to get carried away with this. No matter how handsome he is...
"Welcome, I assume you are Rin? Step inside, please, please." He smiles, and I begin to feel uncertain.
What murderer cold smile with such ease? But I push those thoughts away. I've seen murderers put away with a smile on their face, even being hanged with a smile plastered upon the mouth, a twinkle in their eyes that I couldn't understand, couldn't-
"Are you alright? You look pale." Len states, stepping back to allow me entrance.
I enter his home, instantly overtaken by the beauty of it. Everything is so... Breathtaking! The floor is deep red, hard tiles. The walls are painted the same deep read with thin, spacious golden-colored criss-crosses.
There are bookshelves everywhere, and a den furniture set. From the 'evidence', I assume this is the den. I almost laugh at my own inside joke as he closes the door, leading me to the den where I take a seat, and him across from me.
He's wearing a white button-up shirt, a black vest over it, black shoes and black pants.
"You're here for the job, yes?" He smiles again, his eyes twinkling. "Tell me about yourself. What are you capable of, and what made you want to resign from being a full-on detective? You were very good, I've heard."
"Indeed I was," I reply, being honest. "But I simply cannot deal with the paranoia that seems to come with the job. I feel if it weren't up to me, I might not feel as... Worn. So if I could continue the job I love but without as much pressure, I'd enjoy it greatly."
"That's why you want the job."
"Indeed."
"Well, I admit the pay would be rather high, I cannot say it would be for nothing. I'm sure you already know this, but this is a very risky job to take. Are you sure you're up for it?" He asks, and I can't help but feel there is more to that than he's letting on. It's just something... Something in his tone.
"I've risked my life before, I don't see how it's any different now. I'd like the job, knowing the risks." I reply, crossing my arms.
"It's yours, I'll expect you here tomorrow at 10:00am sharp for your first case, and be sure to wear something you may be able to run in. Understand?" He asks, and I take it all in. I've got the job, I'll be investigating him undercover. If I'm caught, my licence will be taken. I'll be arrested, even. Or murdered, by none other than Len himself.
But even without the threat of being caught, there's the already dangerous threat of being killed on duty. I'm still an assistant, and I have to act as such.
"I'll be here. Is that all?" I ask, rising as he does the same.
"I'll see you tomorrow." He replies, and I take that as my cue to leave.
Once outside, I realize exactly what I've gotten myself into. This is a dangerous, dangerous situation.
All leading back to one question. Who is the culprit?
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