DETECTIVE'S OFFICE WOES

Detective Philip strolled into the precinct with a noticeable yawn, the clock striking 10 am as they crossed the threshold. Their initial destination was Inspector Evans' office, where the seasoned officer promptly redirected them to their freshly assigned workspace.

Upon entering his new office, Detective Philip surveyed the surroundings with a discerning eye. A furrowed brow accompanied his observation of the malfunctioning air conditioning unit. "Is the air conditioning not fixed?" he inquired. His gaze then shifted to the clutter of papers strewn across his desk. "And why is there such an excess of paperwork?"

Inquiring about his assistant's designated space, Detective Philip expressed his concern, "Where is my assistant meant to sit, considering we are working together?" His discontent continued as he pointed out the absence of a water dispenser. "And what about basic amenities? A water dispenser is a necessity."

Inspector Evans, well-acquainted with Detective Philip's propensity for critique, responded with a knowing smirk. "I assure you, another desk shall be arranged promptly for your assistant. As for refreshments, a simple request to the policemen will fetch you not only water but also coffee and sustenance. Regarding the air conditioning, fear not; we have a functional ceiling fan as a suitable alternative." With that, Inspector Evans demonstrated the efficiency of the fan, attempting to allay Detective Philip's concerns.

Once a new desk and chair arrived at Detective Philip's office, accompanied by all the necessary tools for his investigation, he delved into his work with unwavering focus.

"Yaw, bring your chair closer, sit opposite me, and leave the desk at the corner," instructed Detective Philip, a directive swiftly obeyed by Yaw. Inquiring about Yaw's experience, Detective Philip queried, "This marks your inaugural investigation with me, correct?" Yaw nodded in affirmation.

"Excellent. Now, let's commence," declared Detective Philip, unveiling a white paper bearing the printed image of the deceased regional officer. "As we embark on this, we need to gather our clues. Jot them down, Yaw," he directed, as Yaw readied a notepad and pen.

"Ready, sir," affirmed Yaw, prepared to transcribe the unfolding investigation.

"Our initial consideration should be the origin of Mr. Rexford. Since the crime scene is an hour's drive from the police station, it's plausible he might have visited here first. What are your thoughts?" Detective Philip leaned back, fixing Yaw with an inquisitive gaze as the latter took notes.

"Uh, yes, maybe," replied Yaw, cognizant of Detective Philip's expectation.

"Hmm. Your first task is to inquire about the duty roster that night. Find out if Mr. Rexford was present. Subsequently, proceed to the surveillance room; employ my name to access the footage from that night," directed Detective Philip, his attention remaining focused on the paper in his hands.

"Shall I proceed now, sir?" queried Yaw.

"I thought we had just embarked on our investigative journey," responded Detective Philip, his eyes still scanning the crucial information before him.

Detective Philip sat in contemplation, his gaze fixed on the sheet bearing the haunting image of Mr Rexford's lifeless form. His scrutiny lingered on the deep vertical cut from chest to abdomen and the intricate wounds on the stomach. What message did the murderer intend to convey with such a gruesome display? It was conceivable that a disgruntled citizen harbouring animosity towards the police might commit such an act. Yet, the motive remained elusive—what kind of grudge could lead to such brutality? Moreover, the absence of a murder weapon or even the victim's shirt posed additional challenges; the perpetrator had skillfully left no trace.

With a sigh, Detective Philip rose, pacing the confines of his office. He gazed out of the window, watching the urban tableau of cars honking and pedestrians traversing the street. His thoughtful reverie noted the surveillance cameras capturing every movement below. The murderer had cunningly chosen a location beyond the camera's vigilant eye, a sly maneuver that elicited a wry chuckle from Detective Philip.

Intrigued by this realization, he made his way to Inspector Evans' office, finding the seasoned officer engrossed in a call with someone.

"Is there something you need, Philip?" inquired Inspector Evans after concluding his call. Detective Philip, hands casually tucked into his pockets, leaned against the office wall near the entrance, fixating his gaze on the seasoned inspector. With shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing muscled hands, he posed a question that pierced the air.

"Who were you talking to?" he inquired, a sly smirk gracing his lips.

The startled Inspector stuttered, "Wh-what?"

Detective Philip, relinquishing the wall, approached Inspector Evans's desk deliberately. "Don't mind me," he asserted. "Anyone, even myself, can be a suspect. Now, about the post-mortem and the regional police officer's car – was that also at the crime scene?" he demanded, now standing squarely in front of the Inspector.

Impressed by Philip's imposing presence, Inspector Evans nodded. "The car, a Mercedes-Benz, is currently at his house, why do you ask"

Detective Philip nearly exploded, "What do you mean the car, a crucial clue, was sent there? Evans, you should know better!"

Defending the decision, Inspector Evans explained, "Elena, at the scene, claimed the murderer left no evidence not even in the car. They had to await the post-mortem and examine the body for fingerprints, which, I heard, yielded nothing."

"Fuck!" Detective Philip muttered, "That woman! Why the hell would she send the car back? What was she thinking?"

"She insisted there was nothing in the car pertinent to the investigation, Philip. Calm down," Evans urged.

"Look at you, Evans. Growing old, forgetting the basics. I need that car to trace his movements on Monday and the preceding days. Check for any suspicious activities. Damn it!" Philip scolded his tone stern, treating Evans like an errant child.

Inspector Evans, realizing his lapse, remained silent, sensing the gravity of the situation. Philip, not done yet, added, "And don't tell me his phone is sitting idly at his house too."

Evans sighed, feeling a bit foolish. "I'll dispatch officers to retrieve the car and the phone immediately," he assured.

"Send me his address. I'll handle it myself," Philip declared, abruptly leaving the office, leaving Inspector Evans stunned, pondering his oversight.