An Episode of Psychic Detective?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Read THAT to find out. :P

Submitted: July 31, 2011

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Submitted: July 31, 2011

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I looked at my watch, hearing the sound of the police sirens. If nothing happens in the next ten minutes, I thought, I would go out and investigate. In great excitement, I switched on the transistor and waited as patiently as I could, only to witness that every minute was long and excruciatingly painful. Every second seemed to have magically doubled itself. Oh, why couldn't the clock tick away faster when you needed it to?

The song that was playing from the transistor helped me kill time in no way. It only made the wait long and apprehensive. I got off the chair I was sitting in and started pacing up and down the room. I made sure I didn't make much noise; to listen to the happenings that were going on outside. By this time the police siren had ceased, but I could have hear the angry barks of dogs. Police dogs- I guessed.

I walked over to the window to peep outside to witness the scenario. I was right- two dogs were sniffing around.

By now people have started to gather around the sidewalk. The police were cordoning off the perimeter and hastily clearing away the mob that had somehow managed to appear. I closed the window, came back to the chair; where I once again seated myself. So far, only three minutes had gone by and my curiosity was already starting to overwhelm me. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath and recalled the activities that had taken place about fifteen minutes ago- a single gunshot.

That is all I had heard. Not able to control my impulses, I put on my shades, collected my workbag and headed out of the house. I walked up to the perimeter and tried to break through the crowd.

As I casually sauntered into the crime scene, a policeman collared me.

Shoot!

I had been afraid of this, now I had some serious explaining to do. I pulled out a small laminated card from my pocket and waved it at the imposing policeman's face. A flicker of recognition appeared on his face and he gestured me into the scene.

Ah! This is what I enjoyed about being a detective- I could take control, feel involved and have the fruits of solving hard-to-crack cases.

I shoved the card back into its place and got closer to the person who was lying down on the ground, bathing in his own blood. A 'person' he was no more, a lifeless, cold body or a 'corpse' or a 'cadaver', call it what you want. Having witnessed even more gory and brutal scenes, I had no feelings, I remained impassive. The person had a single entry wound on his chest, I turned the body to find the exit wound but, it looked like the bullet was lodged in.

I got out my camera, clicked away a few pictures, took out the cotton swabs, got two blood samples and swept the entire crime scene with my eyes. The police had done a good job of marking the evidences. I spotted two more blood splatters on the ground. Also being a blood splatter pattern analyst I was able to infer that the criminal had shot the man from a close range., say, less than 10 metres.The police were now ID-ing the victim. Giving one last swift look, I started to leave the place.

I had to get the blood samples to the lab, and run the preliminary tests. My assistants, of course, would do the necessary filing and tests. The forensic psychologist would create a profile of the criminal from which I could derive other essential leads to crack this case.

After the autopsy, the bullet was sent over to me but, what good was a bullet when I didn't have a gun to peg it to? I got a mug of coffee, hoping the caffeine would bring up a few brainwaves.

And that is when I saw it- a pale, white wispy figure; it was human-like and shimmering in the dull light of my study. The figure uttered two words-

"The bush."

And vaporized.

I revisited the crime scene , looked around and found nothing. Then I walked over to the thick bushes on the side to find something shiny and sleek lying in the middle.

Alas! The gun.

I took the gun to the lab, and matched the bullets. I sent over the bullets and the gun to the Department and they would go through the licensed gun owners list, getting a step closer to breaking the case. My job was done. A few days rolled by and I wanted to know if the case was closed. I made a couple of phone calls and was educated about the case. The police had tracked down the owner oho had reported his missing gun.

The police were shrewd enough to peg the crime to the 20 year old son after further investigation- who, desperate for money shot the man when he had refused to hand it over. After hearing this, I made myself another mug of coffee and sat down to celebrate the success of my case.

A familiar shimmering appeared and the ghost-like man emerged from nowhere; carrying nothing but a knowing smile. I put my mug down and advanced toward him, my head clouded with a thousand unanswered questions waiting to be answered. I had started to mouth my questions and instantly he vanished into thin air.


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