Friday, 26 February 2010
Monday, 15 February 2010
The Detective was sitting on his silk embroidered armchair, thinking about his wind-blasted fate - linking his pale fingers together as he think. His sophisticated white coloured summer suit was almost in stain. It has been quite a long time since he had left his cosy room; maybe after the death of almost the entire Gentlemen’s Club members in the Bourdain House. He vowed to do everything he could to solved Lord Drouhte’s death riddles, even if it is making him no more of his usual sane. After the attack,
“Give it to me
To my lovely rival,
The reason that I wrote this letter was to realizing you of what so much time that I had been given you to prepare for my next puzzle. You see, together with this unexpected letter, I slipped some quotes referring to something that might have been or might have not been important to you. A code that may or may not answers your questions.
PS: Shall God sent us to another crime scene… ‘Peacefully’
Under the white envelope where the letter was placed in, there was another paper about the size of a business card. The paper was written on it the words ‘I love to swipe hibiscuses’. To his bewilderment, there is a blood stain on the far end of the small paper.
“He will strike again,” The Detective said; folding the letter firmly as he then throws it into the fireplace, “and his fate is alike to that letter he gave me.” The letter was slowly being eaten by fire, burning until what left was a handful of ashes. Detective
The next day was a fresh day for Detective Hugh and his young partner;
“Good question my dear boy, the reason that we are travelling aboard is strictly because of the word ‘swipe’ in Drouhte’s letter.” He hesitated for a moment. Observes his surrounding, and continued “You see Michael; the word ‘swipe’ entitles the fact that Drouhte is doing something concrete, or dare I say some work that can be feel by our five major senses. That means that he can see, touch, taste, smell and obviously hears the object he’s sweeping. Here’s the problem my friend; we don’t have hibiscuses in the
“So, that leads us to a country where we can surely feel a large amount of hibiscuses sensibly.”
“Spare me a moment please, sir.” She said; reshuffling some papers in her hands at the double.
“Let’s welcome ourselves to Malaysia Detective, where hibiscuses were cherished as their national flower.”
A trip to
“The clock strikes three, what’s next in your mind Detective Hugh?”
“I say, we should have lunch.”
“But where should it be Detective?”
“Oh, you’ll see: somewhere fishy.” He said; manoeuvring his act forwards without using complicated maps or any GPS devices as if knowing all the road networks and streets of this serene realm.
A totally-black Mini Cooper S-Cabrio slowed down from the motorway, to a parking spot in front of the Bourdain House – the heart of The Gentlemen’s Club in
“Anything we committed inside should never be revealed outside.” He said calmly - while combing his lank auburn with dry fingers. The door shrieked opened, revealing an old butler with pale complexion; wearing royal velvet with matching pair of pants.
“May I take your coat off, sir?” The butler asked, placing his hands on the green suede.
“No thanks, my dear fellow. I’m on my way to meet a friend,” He said, grinning as he nudges away the butler’s hands from his suede. He calmly admired the luxurious decorations on the wall, as he was on his way to the cellar bar.
The comfortable cellar bar appears to be filled with three other gentlemen in various ages, but his eyes were fixed on
“Then it’s the murdering of joy for me,
“I beg your pardon my dear friend, I don’t smoke,”
“What is it sir?” the butler hurried towards them.
“Would you care to get me some of those lovely foie gras, for my dear fellow?”
“Absolutely sir, I will go right away,” as
“That sounds sweet, but I would prefer here. It is a lot safer here,”
“If that’s the case, we will meet again in Saturday then?” he said, emitting a polite smoke from the pipe.
“That would be more than perfect,
My hand trembled through the veils of shames, as I am getting more turgid to seeing such an enormous remnant of my deliberative state. Although the signals had called off the mission, I remained there - unmoved. Maybe something is wrong with me or is it something is unclear for me. Never, the less shame I had ever endeavored in my whole life and never, the more pride I had ever planted in my soul. Before the wedding, everything and everyone was all fine, no problems were in sight. Not until the Father’s words were pierced through the eardrums of my inert ears.
I answered, “I …don’t,” every rolling eyes were on me, my fiancé almost fainted, the father of the bride looks like he will be butchering my flesh and tears almost ran down my mother’s cheeks. “No, I … I do!” I uttered abruptly, correcting my rather stupid statements on the most glorious day of my life. I held my head downwards - at first, no one seems to notice my idiocy, but, after seconds of silence a fine gentleman starts smiling, two giddy teenagers giggled, three women whispered and everyone laughed.