Massacre of the Silver Skull

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Chapter 4

I drove as fast as I could to P.C.P.D. I had no time to get breakfast now but that was fine. Skipping one meal couldn’t hurt. I pulled up in the parking lot of the building and got out of the car. The P.C.P.D. was one of the oldest buildings in Paradise City, dating back all the way to the 1920′s era. It was a mix of old and new. Cobblestone walls with the double doors being glass doors. Two electric lamps around the entryway instead of the old fashioned gas lights. A giant stone eagle was above the entryway with the letters P.C.P.D. behind it and below it read ‘Paradise City Police Department’. A single watchtower was placed in the center of the building. It stood tall like a beacon of a lighthouse. According to history, it used to be a lighthouse back in it’s time until they decided to transform it into a police station around the 1940′s.

I entered the building and was greeted by the chief of police himself. He was a tall bald African American gentleman named William Tyson. Standing only a foot above me, I could see his hazel eyes.

“What happened?” I asked concerned as he lead me to the cells.

“We were doing our daily rounds this morning until we found Billy Edwards dead in his cell.”

“Dead? Was it suicide?”

“Well that’s what we were thinking until we found a mark on the back of his neck.” The chief opened up his cell and there was Billy Edwards’s cold dead corpse. I knelt down as I put on gloves and checked his neck.

“How long has he been dead?”

“A few hours.” Replied Detective Asbell. The wound on his neck looked small enough to have been caused by a needle. There was a small barred window in his cell as the sunlight shined through it. There was a skid mark on one of the bars which would indicate that something was flying at an incredible speed could’ve left that mark. Looking through the barred window, I could see a possible angle from the roof the shooter could’ve shot from.

“Billy Edwards was assassinated.” I concluded. The chief questioned this of course.

“Let me explain. The wound on the back of his neck was caused by a needle. The shooter shot a poisonous dart from a near by rooftop through Billie's cell window.”

“But if that’s so, then where’s the needle?”

“Simple. It’s under the bed. You see, as soon as the needle hit his neck, Billy felt the back of his neck, pulled out the needle and dropped it as it rolled under the bed as he slowly died from the poison.” I approached the bed as I flipped it over and picked up the needle that was on the floor. I walked up to the chief as I handed him the needle.

“Have the boys analyze this.” I said as I walked past him and patted his shoulder. The chief turned to me as I was leaving his sight.

“Where are you going Wydock?”

“I’m gonna check out the rooftop where the shooter shot from. Asbell, let’s go.” I said straightening out my coat as I walked past. Asbell got up and walked out of the cell leaving the chief with the needle and the dead body.

Later that same hour, Detective Wydock and Asbell investigated the rooftop where the shooter was. Detective Wydock closed his eyes as he could play out how it went down. He could picture the silhouette of the assassin setting up the tripod that he used to mount his gun. It was during the night. The assassin whoever he was placed the case in which he carried his equipment onto the half wall of the roof. He opened it and pulled out the tripod. He set it up as he placed the gun on top. The gun was nice and secured on the tripod. He opened up the pocket in his case which he kept the poisonous dart. He loaded it into his gun as he steadied his aim. He could see Billy Edwards in the scope of his gun and pulled the trigger.

“Wydock? WYDOCK!” Detective Wydock opened his eyes as his coat and hair flowed ever so gently in the breeze. Asbell was kneeling down as he pointed to marks he found on the ground.

“Marks on the ground from where he placed his tripod.”

“He was in a hurry.” Asbell looked at Wydock.

“Billie's assassin must’ve been on a tight schedule. He must have a secret compartment on this roof in which he stored his equipment.” Asbell stood up.

“What makes you think so?”

“Because those are drag marks. Billie's assassin didn’t have time to store his equipment back up properly. So he dragged his tripod to a secret compartment he keeps up here. And then once he realized that tripods leave skid marks behind when dragged, he picked it up. The question is now where is that hidden compartment? We find that, and we find the murder weapon.”

“That’s why they call you Sherlock.” Asbell remarked.

“It’s elementary my dear Watson.” He joked. Detective Wydock looked around the roof until he found something on the ground. A single lost screw lying next to a fuse box. He knelt down and knocked on it. It sounded hollow. He pulled out the three remaining loose screws and surly enough, he had found what he was looking for.

“You found it.” Asbell walked over to where Wydock was and observed the gun that was inside.

“That’s a fifty caliber tranquilizer rifle.” Pointed out Asbell.

“Very good Asbell. What we need to do now is figure out where this rifle was purchased from and who it was sold to. Check the gun for fingerprints.” Asbell put on rubber gloves and scrubbed down the gun. But he had found nothing.

“No fingerprints. He must’ve had gloves on.”


“Wait!” Detective Asbell spotted something else in the compartment beside the gun and tripod. A piece of purple cloth. He picked it up and looked at it. Detective Wydock pictured in his mind the assassin’s sleeve getting caught on a piece of sharp metal inside while putting his stuff away. He yanked his arm back, ripping off a small piece of his sleeve before putting the panel back on. He opened his eyes.

“Take it back to the lab and analyze it.”

“You think it’s the Joker?” Asbell jokes. Wydock chuckled a little.

“Too easy Asbell. No, that shade of purple can not be seen so easily in the dark. I think I know who the assassin is. He’s called ‘The Shadow’. He’s a professional assassin whom we’ve been trying to catch for years. Every time we came close to capturing him, he always manages to find a way to escape....”

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