A Detective and a Middle School Student Work Together to Defeat Lupin

The peace after the Aruna case was short-lived. A few days passed with boring routines, until a midnight phone call ripped me from my dreams. An unknown number again. I glanced at the clock on my nightstand: 2:17 AM. No one calls that early unless there's big trouble.

"Hello?" my voice hoarse.

"Arez? It's Rose," the voice on the other end was tense, lacking her usual cheerful tone. "There's a job. Get to the address I sent immediately. It's an emergency."

"What's wrong?" I asked, my sleepiness instantly gone.

"Murder," she replied succinctly, then the call ended.

Murder. The word echoed in my ears. No more illusion riddles, no more silly thefts. This was real life. Blood, death, and crime.

I bolted out of the house, heading straight for the address Rose had sent. A hidden gem amidst the hustle and bustle of Southampton: a luxurious art gallery located in the secluded and elegant Dunhill area, surrounded by neat gardens. The main gate was already open, and several police cars and ambulances were visible in the distance, blue-red rotating lights flashing, dancing in the night's darkness.

I passed the still-sparse police tape; not many media or citizens knew yet. Rose was already waiting for me near the gallery entrance, wearing her characteristic trench coat, her expression serious. She held a chain in her hand, ready.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"A man named Weston Emmanuel was found dead inside the gallery," Rose explained, her voice low. "The gallery owner and a famous art collector. His death... isn't ordinary."

We entered. The air inside the gallery felt cold and smelled strange, a mix of oil paint, expensive perfume, and a faint metallic odor. Several police officers and a forensic team were already at work.

In the center of the main room lay Weston Emmanuel's body. He was supine on the white marble floor, next to a tall, modern bronze sculpture. No blood was visible, but his face was blue, his eyes bulging, and his neck showed severe bruising. He had clearly been strangled.

"Initial report, no signs of forced entry," said a police detective, Commissioner Richard, who was familiar with Rose. "Nothing is missing. This isn't a robbery."

I observed the crime scene. The gallery was filled with valuable paintings and sculptures, all appearing intact. No mess, no signs of struggle. A very clean murder, almost artistic. I began to analyze the situation, looking for patterns or inconsistencies invisible to the ordinary eye.

Rose approached the victim's body. "Are there any witnesses?"

"None," Richard replied. "The night shift security guard, Mr. Samuel, was found unconscious in the control room. Hit on the head. He didn't see anything."

I crouched down, observing Weston's body. His bulging eyes, his last gaze seemingly fixed on the bronze sculpture beside him. The sculpture depicted an abstract human figure screaming in pain. A coincidence? Or a message?

Rose pointed to the victim's neck. "This isn't an ordinary strangulation. There are very specific pressure marks. Like... certain fingerprints."

I noticed the area around the sculpture. The marble floor was clean, except for a few small drops of clear liquid near the base of the sculpture. I touched it. It felt slippery.

"What is this?" I asked.

"Lubricating oil," Rose replied, already having pulled out gloves and taking a sample with a small pipette. "Could be from machinery, or perhaps... a mechanism."

I glanced at the sculpture again. Was there something about this sculpture connected to the murder? I tried to understand what the killer wanted to convey. This wasn't just a murder; it was a message. The motive must be complex. This tested how quickly I could grasp unexpected clues.

"We also found this," Commissioner Richard handed over a small, sealed envelope. "In the victim's pocket."

Rose carefully opened the envelope. Inside, there was a tarot card, "The Hanged Man" card, redrawn with red ink in several parts. The hanging figure was drawn darker, and below it, there was neatly written handwriting:

————————————————

The price of a lie

Paid in unconsciousness.

A silenced melody,

Ending life's symphony.

————————————————

"A tarot card?" I frowned. "And these strange lyrics?" I could feel a chilling tension starting to envelop me. This murder was no ordinary murder. There was a mastermind behind it.

"The Hanged Man," Rose murmured, examining the card. "Symbolizes sacrifice, suspension, or a new perspective. But with red ink... this could mean death or betrayal."

"The price of a lie," I repeated. "This reminds me of Lupin."

Rose shook her head. "It's not them. This is more personal. Darker. Lupin usually leaves riddles related to theft, not this kind of murder. And they don't use symbolism this heavy."

Suddenly, the gallery's emergency alarm blared, deafeningly. The main lights went out, leaving only dim emergency lights. Darkness engulfed the gallery.

"What's happening?!" Commissioner Richard yelled.

From the darkness, hurried footsteps were heard, and then, the sound of breaking glass from the upper floor.

"Damn it!" Richard cursed. "Lupin!"

Rose and I exchanged glances. Lupin? They couldn't be involved in this murder, but they definitely saw an opportunity to cause chaos. They wouldn't miss a chance to create a disturbance and steal something valuable. This also became my concern; I needed to understand how their motive could fit into this event.

"Rose, I'll hold them off here," Richard said, gesturing to some of his men to get ready. "You two find out what they're after, and if you can, catch the mastermind of this murder."

Rose nodded. She pulled a pistol from under her jacket, handing it to me. I took the folding knife I usually kept in my pocket, feeling the cold metal in my hand. This was no longer a mind game. This was a fight.

"Come on, Arez," Rose whispered, her chain swinging gently in her hand, ready for combat. She led the way, moving swiftly and silently among the shadows of sculptures and paintings.

We moved up the spiral staircase to the second floor. Lupin's footsteps were clearly audible above. They must know there's something valuable up there. I had to predict their movements, anticipating what they would target. This was a test of my quick thinking under pressure. I needed to know exactly where and how they would move.

As we reached the upper floor, I saw the silhouettes of several figures moving quickly in the darkness. They were wearing Lupin's characteristic masks. They weren't the masterminds of the murder, but a serious distraction.

"Rose, there are three of them up there, two to the right, one to the left!" I whispered, trying to predict their movements. My quick observation of the environment and their movement patterns might save us.

Rose nodded. "I'll handle the two. You take care of the one."

She threw her chain, wrapping it around the leg of one Lupin trying to escape. The chain pulled him down, and Rose leaped, landing a precise kick towards the other.

I moved towards the remaining Lupin. He tried to evade me, intending to grab a small sculpture from a display case. I knew my physique wasn't as strong as Rose's, so I had to use my own methods. I fired a shot, missing, just to divert his attention. He was startled, turning towards me. I moved quickly, anticipating his moves, stepping aside as he tried to attack. I could see his pattern.

This wasn't a physical brawl. This was a battle of wits. I had to manipulate him, making him think I was weaker than I actually was. This was the part where I had to use my ability to deceive an opponent. I swung the knife, not to injure, but to make him retreat, cornering him in the room.

Amidst the chaos, I had to stay focused on Weston Emmanuel's murder. The tarot card, those lyrics, the drops of lubricating oil. All of it was connected. I had to find the answer among these shadows and violence. I also had to be careful, as there might be other unknown enemies involved, not just Lupin. This was just the beginning.