CHAPTER-I

"I thought you were going to look into the case." I said sipping on my tea. "I don't kill two birds with one stone, I prefer a gun!" Shawn chuckled and replied.

Shawn Carter, a good friend of mine. Resides in 68-B, Oldham Street, Manchester. There are rumors of him being a detective, but if you ask me, he is on a whole different level than a detective. Sometimes I get chills just by his unshakable concentration and prodigious deductive skills. His observation surpasses human expectations.

It's a week before Christmas, a pleasant evening, I and Shawn are sitting near the fire place at his house. I came to visit him; like I often do. We were having tea, "Isn't it amazing?" said Shawn keeping down the newspaper. "Agree, I mean who would have thought that police could catch the criminal who has killed the owner of the 'KOLDHUB' café within a couple of hours?" I replied. "Not this incident, Glen." "Then what?" I asked surprisingly, thinking that he found an interesting case. "This cookie, who would have thought they can make it that tasty? I love it!"

"Shawn, don't you think it's a bit suspicious that the police caught him almost immediately? Are you really going to overlook this?" I asked. "I haven't ignored it;" he said with his usual bold voice "here, have a look." He replied showing me the front page of the newspaper, "Do you recall this man?". I leaned over and looked at the picture on the front page. "Umm, if it isn't police constable Dave Phelix, with the criminal.". "Yes, right. Now if you recall, Dave Phelix came to Manchester a couple of months ago. He has two daughters, a son; the son is in 8th grade and the two daughters in 4th and 6th. He owns a big lavish bungalow down the street. He also owns a wagon of the latest model. Does it ring a bell?".

Confused as a 5th grader trying to understand polynomials I replied, "Not to an ordinary person like me.". He lit his pipe and took a puff. He continued, "The constable really is having a great time, you can tell it by his wide smile. It hits me that catching a mere criminal who murdered a café owner brought that smile on his face. Look, a constable with lavish bungalow, latest model of a wagon, with a salary of no more than 17000 sterling, as per declared by the board of police, UK. He doesn't even know how to stand like a constable, I bet even you can notice it! Something is off."

"I get it that he somehow is involved with corruption but…" "Glen! Look at the bigger picture, the criminal is bruised all over, his face has numerous blue swellings, his hands are cuffed but he is still standing with pride, perfect gap between his legs, back perfectly straight, chin high, and his eyes are the textbook definition of confidence. I bet he is a police officer in the same police station in which Dave Phelix is the constable in." I was looking at him as his voice made my eyes open; he continued, "Dave is a corrupt person, that goes without saying, but who would have thought he would force his new junior to resign his post, and physically and mentally torture him until he accepts to kill the owner of the café and loot all money so that Dave can catch him and get the most brilliant cop award in the next award distribution, coming up in the next month. Truly awful, that piece of trash. Scum." Shawn ended with a disgusted face, laying back on his chair with pipe still in his hands. Looking at the fire blazing in the fireplace.

I neither did have the reason nor the wit to question the deduction made by him, for I knew who is the man in the question.

"Anyway, I received a letter this morning; it's from constable William Rose, from London." Shawn said, standing up and walking towards his bookshelf. "What does it say?"

"Mr. Carter, I hope this letter finds you in good health. I request you to look into an odd case here in London. It has been published in the newspaper, 'The Butler of the house Philips residing at 32-S, Kensington Chelsea, London, murdered the Philips family. This heinous crime took place at the Saturday night. Mr. Bruce Perry, the servant of house Philips for 3 years, called police in the early hours of Sunday morning to report the crime.' The newspaper made it look very obvious that the butler is the murderer, but I have interrogated him and have been convinced to bother you to investigate in this case. I myself went to the scene and investigated after Mr. Bruce called at the police station. I shall give the rest of information face to face. I'll make an arrangement according to your comfort sir, just be sure to send me a letter beforehand. Looking forward for your cooperation.

Constable William Rose

Kensington Police Station, London."

"Looks like we have a trip to London.", said Shawn smiling at me. "Sure, quite of a trip there."

"We are leaving tomorrow by the train in the morning, meet me at the railway station at 6:00 am.", Shawn said folding the letter. "I'll catch you up then. It's already 9, I have to pack my stuff too; meet you at the railway station then."

I went to my home and started packing my suitcase for the journey. I tried to sleep early that night but excitement did not allow me to. I felt asleep unconscious of time and woke up around quarter past five. I took a bath, got myself ready, checked everything and locked up the main door. I wondered what the time was, I looked at my bare wrist; unlocked the door, rushed back in my bedroom, got my watch and then locked the door. This time I dashed to the railway station and found Shawn waiting for me.

"Sorry mate, I really did… make you… wait there." I apologized while gasping for air. "Get a hold on yourself, Glen, it's 6:10, we've got time. Let's get a cup of coffee.", said Shawn.

Shawn got a newspaper form the bookstore at the platform while I got both of us a coffee and a packet of cookies. "Here, Shawn, your coffee, and you wouldn't mind some cookies, would you?" "Not at all, thanks mate.", we both took a sip and Shawn said clearing his throat, "You see that man over there?" pointing to a rather old man, standing on the edge of the platform. "That man with ginger hair? Yeah." I replied. Shawn chuckled, rubbed his hands and leaned over to me and asked, "What can you tell about that man?". The old man, in his early 60s was carrying a briefcase with him, he got a pair of boots, he wore a hat and had round glasses on. I observed him for a solid minute and replied to Shawn, "I think that man is a business man and is returning from a business trip. He got a dress as a present and…yeah that's all I can say about him." Shawn gave me a confident look and chuckled; he said, "That man has served in the Royal Navy, you can tell it by the way he laces his boots. In the Royal Navy, you are taught how to perfectly lace your shoes so that you don't face any problem during the hasty work in the field. He has got good height, 6'8. He is also in a good shape, he has a good diet and he works out. He is looking at his watch and lifting his head to catch a sight for the train. This clearly means he is getting impatient. He looks very happy, well off course he is, after all he is going to meet his granddaughter after a very long time."

Shawn just said it like he knew that man for a really long time, he literally read that man like a book. "Shawn how can you tell that he is going to meet his granddaughter?" I asked. "Well if you look at his left hand, he is holding a bag, that bag is from 'Krig-FURGZ', a very famous dress brand, German, and expensive too. Through the transparent bag you can see the dress, a turquoise colored, flower designed, quite expensive looking dress, for a child of the age of 10-12 I guess. It has to be for his granddaughter. I mean whom else would he spend so much on?"

Shawn really scares me sometimes, rather often; his observation is enough to tell your past and maybe your future. His accuracy and obvious justifications makes even the smartest persons feel like dumb. I gazed at him for lord knows how much long and then said, "You sure are going to kill a person just by your observations someday mate." "You're not going to get on the train?" said Shawn looking at me. I hadn't noticed the train; it had already arrived at the platform. We got on, found our seats and settled down. Shawn took his pipe out, lit it and took a puff.

"I sent a letter yesterday afternoon and told Constable Rose to make arrangement for two people. I hope he has got things done."

"In the afternoon? That is before telling me about this case? You told him to make arrangements for both of us?"

"Yes, why? Was it that you did not want to join me by any chance, Glen?"

"N-No… I mean off course I would have joined you… but…"

"Hahahahaha, you really got worked up there didn't you mate? That's hilarious to watch you getting caught off-guard! Ha-ha".

"Shawn I can never tell if you are being serious or not, nobody can. You tricky one."

"Anyway, it will take us some time to reach London. I think I need a short sleep before we reach there, so…"

"Oh, yeah sure! I' think I need one too… (yawns) I really woke up early."

We both slept hard, it was because we got up early and rushed to catch the train. I was woken up by the whistle of the train, it was entering a station. I looked at the time, 10:40 am. Got myself a tea on the platform. Picked up the newspaper, took a sip and laid back. I was looking out of the window, there was nothing much on the newspaper.

It is said that much of the happiness is found when you do your work with an open mind and acceptance. I wonder if Shawn is happy with his work; he sure is exceptional in his job, but is he happy? Is he satisfied? I wonder if I will ever get to know that.

Shawn had his mother, she passed away a couple of years ago. She used to live with him. He loved her more than anything in his life. Shawn had seen many deaths, horrible, inhuman, some were so miserable that only hearing about it could give someone a cardiac arrest.

I was shocked when I saw Shawn not crying on her mother's death. I got to know it later, Shawn was so overwhelmed with grief that he could not even have an emotion on his face for a whole week. He was dead inside, he did not contact with anyone after her funeral for about a week. He locked himself in his room and did not come out for a day or two. He could not even cry on the day of her funeral.

One night he came to my home, it was about a week after his mother's funeral, I opened the door for him. He didn't look to good, he looked like he hadn't eaten for a week. He collapsed when I tried to give him a shoulder and escort him to my living room. I pulled him up and dragged him to my living room on my shoulder. He woke up when I sprinkled water on his face. I got him a plate of rice porridge, that was the fastest I could give him something to eat. He ate and drank a glass of water.

He stood up, put his hat on and said, "Thank you Glen, I should be going home now. I apologize to disturb you in the late hours of night."

"Why? Why are you holding back? What the fuck is not making you cry? Are you a monster!!? We are the only ones here, cry your heart out, idiot! You loved her more than anyone! Anyone!! JUST FUCKING CRY!! PLEASE!!" I cried to him. A tear rolled down his cheeks, his cheeks were burning red, his head was down as he was standing straight.

That night I saw the extreme end of sorrow. He cried, cried, cried, and fucking cried for his beloved mother. Deep, his words cut deep that night. He cried, "I love you mother. I love you. This is not…this… is just not fair!!~ Just answer me, you love me too right? Huh~? I lost it, lost my pride, lost my anger, my happiness, my… my~y… mother, everything (squeaking). (Sobs) Huh… I am a fool, an idiot, an ego-centric bastard, but why would you keep quiet to your son like this? Are you joking? huh!? AAHHH!! I knew, I knew…I knew… you loved me, but quit joking now huh.

Why can't I remember your beautiful face mom? Your… face… was beautiful…Nothing changed. I still lost to your motherhood. I~ I~… love you so much~~(whispers). Please~~"

He felt unconscious that night crying and slept at my home. I went to his house that night and made sure the main gate was locked; it was. I returned to my home to find him sleeping peacefully on my bed. A lot, his heart had so much to bear. I now knew why he hadn't cried that day, if that sorrow made it through his throat that day, it would have killed him.

Thinking all this I was looking at his face in the train. Sleeping, peacefully. I wonder why I remembered that incident in the train but it was very hard to see him breaking down that night.

"Looking at my face again eh? Glen?" he said while his eyes still closed. "You were awake? From when?" I asked surprisingly. "How could I sleep if you keep staring at me? (Yawns) What were you thinking in your head? You looked serious, really serious.", he said rubbing his eyes. "Nothing, you looked funny when you slept, just the opposite from other times." I said. "Hahaha, no one ever told me that."