Day 32 - No Leads Yet

Benedict Salvatore, star detective assigned to the mystery murder case of Gloucestershire’s business tycoon, Mr. Anthony Bridgerton; had a spotless career, solving each and every case utmost ease but this particular case rattled his brain.

How can the crime scene be so clean?

Why can’t the forensic team find any leads on the site?

This doesn’t make sense at all.

For someone with high success rate at solving murder case with elegance, this case proved to be a nightmare.

32 Days Ago

Anthony Bridgerton, whose face made regular appearance in all of London’s top business magazine, was found dead in cold blood at his mansion and only clue found at site were the marks that formed a triangle on his chest, same as other two previous cases of famous actor Christopher Corraine and Writer Julia Watson.

Its like a signature of murder. Somehow murderer knew these high-profile cases will be forwarded me. Is he trying to mock and humiliate me?

Benedict Salvatore, the rising star detective, suave and quick with his observations, had been subjected to critique due to his recent poor performance at cases, as much as he was to the spotlight during the prime of his career. The funds for the investigation of the Bridgerton case were running out, Oliver was out of time with many observations but no results again. For the third time.

This is going to end the same as Corraine and Watson cases. This is not looking good.

As much as Benedict was unhappy about his two losses in a row, many in the department were basking in the glory of his downfall. The happiest was Arnold Clark, the arch rival of Benedict. Clark never really liked Ben from his early days in the department and the reason was clear, Ben was young and pounced at opportunities in efforts to prove himself and hence most others including Clark got the shorter end of the stick.

When there are haters, there are supporters too and Ben had his father figure Henry Cavill, someone he's always looked up to. Ben had a hard time trusting people, but he would trust Cavill with his life. He was the first good friend he'd ever made.

Even now the only person independently assisting Ben was Henry Cavill. He had always given Ben tips but now was helping him actively to the point that his involvement too had media coverage. At least Benedict was not alone and he was thankful for all the support he could get at this time.

I really could use some help with these serial murders. Cavill is indeed a blessing for coming to my rescue with this one.

Cavill used to be one of the best in the department and had a keen eye. He saw Ben struggling and offered to help.

Ben was back at his office square, sipping his favourite latte while on a break. Cavill was leading the police team on a crackdown tonight. He had independently investigated some leads.

Ben was speechless. He was so embarrassed about his performance that he dared not ask how Cavill was getting this close.

He's obviously smarter. He thought.

Day 43

It's been 9 days; 9 days since Ben and Cavill cracked the Bridgerton case. The night they zeroed down on the suspect and raided his residence, he had already killed himself, apparently scared of his fate at the hands of authorities.

Benedict Salvatore was finally breathing, proud of himself and grateful to Cavill. Cavill too was happy about it all, although they couldn't catch the murderer alive, it was a closure nonetheless. Benedict's career was back on track and Cavill enjoyed the attention and acknowledgement too.

Clark was obviously seemingly pissed, almost as if his plan to watch Ben's downfall had failed miserably.

Everything is back to what it used to be. I can finally catch some good sleep.

Day 46

Something is not right.

It's almost funny.

Have I lost my analytical skills?

This whole case was solved by Cavill and not me. Nobody knows this. It's my secret.

I couldn't catch any leads on the case.

It was all too straightforward for me, too easy for me.

Did Henry Cavill spoon feed me the details out of pity of my inability to crack this case?

I don't know.

Something doesn't add up.

Ben's head was a mess. He could sense something was wrong but couldn't pinpoint it.

After another couple hours of overthinking and deliberation, he almost shrieked at what he realised.

The autopsy report of the suspect!

How could I miss going through it. Silly me.

He chuckled to himself about stressing over something rather trivial.

He finally sat down on his sofa, sipping his latte, autopsy report in his hand. He noticed something rather odd.

Three pin marks forming a triangle? Didn't Anthony Bridgerton hang himself?

How did Arnold not notice this abnormal detail? Or he did and didn't raise an alarm. Did he even go through it?

The triangle!

That's when it all came crashing down to him.

The suspect was not guilty, he was probably a scapegoat and was definitely poisoned by an undetectable poison.

Oh my god. We have a mole in the department. It's Arnold. He covered this!

He grabbed his overcoat and ran to the headquarters. It was 0003 hours. Dead of the night.

No taxi.

Dang it! I'll have to run.

Just around the corner, Ben froze at the sound of a gunshot.

He took a step back at the second shot and took cover when the third was fired.

Three shots.

Three corners.

A triangle.

He knew at once that it was the real murderer.

He was overcome with rage, and decided to finally confront Arnold but when he finally stood up and ran in the direction of the shots, he froze in horror at what he witnessed.

Lying in a pool of blood was Ryan Stirling, the rich real estate dealer. But that was not all.

Cavill!?

What is he doing here?

Next he saw the gun in his hand and it all made sense. It all added up. Benedict was so shook, he couldn't scream or move.

"How could you do this? Why are you doing this!" asked Ben as his voice cracked, tears welling up in his eyes for Henry was the only friend he had, someone he looked up to.

"Don't you see? Are you that dumb Salvatore? You took everything away from me. The spotlight, the high-profile cases, the attention, the pay. Everything!" screamed Cavill like a madman.

"Now, now you do know how we get it back, right? We play the villain and the hero," continue... Cavill, grinning, his voice now a hoarse shush laced with cunning.

"My friend Benedict, how did you never wonder about the spotless clean crime scenes? How I got the leads?" he continued, sniffing the tip of his gun.

"Sooner or later, everyone will realise we have a mole in the department and guess who will take the fall."

"You'll not get away with it, Henry. I never imagined you'd stoop this low! Disgusting!"

It all adds up.

It was him all this time, wanting to solve high-profile cases and getting the glamorous attention back. Pathetic.

"Oh Salvatore, we must learn to keep secrets. Shh," said Cavill, putting a finger to his lips.

"It is what it is, my friend. This is your fate.

Every secret comes at a cost, Mine comes at the cost of your life, For this secret shall be buried with you," cooed Cavill, as if savoring this moment.

I must run.

Too late.

Three more shots fired on the forty-seventh day, three o' clock in the morning.

In the end, it all added up.

I was the scapegoat for the mole in the department. He planned it from the start.

I knew this would happen, there was no escape.

This is my story and it's a secret between you and I, for secrets are buried with the dead.

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