Chapter Ten - Absurdism, Part 2
The first and last time I received a phone call about MC-13 was also the time I was unprepared for it. One thing that this case has taught me is that time is of the essence, especially during the times when the stakes are unimaginable. It took me around fifteen minutes to show up to the Trelton Hotel – too slow. I must do better. I must anticipate the moment as soon as possible, and even further before that possibility. A detective cannot just stand around, waiting for something to happen. They have to act fast and without delay, knowing exactly what to do and when. If I cannot grasp even the basics of being a detective, then who am I to lead the charge against the greatest evil the DPD has ever seen?
I have taken the necessary precautions. Today is May 11th, and a murder should happen today as far as I know. The exact times of death have been ranging from morning to evening, therefore I must stay focused for the entirety of today. To optimize even further, I have decided to stay in my car for today, allowing me to depart to the place of the crime as soon as I receive the signal. Phone calls from the police are slow, also. I have gone ahead and connected to the police radio in order to receive the sign in the same moment that the officers do. I made sure that there is no room for error. Wasting another nine days would be an egregious waste of time, and also a waste of life.
The assistant girl tries to lighten the atmosphere with her remark. “Sylphie thinks your car smells bad.”
“I have told you already! It isn’t the car,” I yelled out to my side, where she sat.
We have positioned ourselves in the middle of a parking lot, precisely at 8:00. As for where this parking lot is, it is located in the center of Misult City, driving away from here allows us to have the most optimal distance to any part of the city. There was no other choice, since there is no set location to where the killer strikes. If there was at least a hint to where we should aim our focus, then this would be a lot easier. But of course, there is no room for such luxury in MC-13.
Her eyes narrowed. “You know, this is getting ridiculous.”
Sylphie has been accustomed to the plan to the same degree as I am. She seemed to agree that this is the best choice available, but now, it seems that she disapproves of my plan, or rather – she disapproves of me.
She continued to express herself. “A part of being a detective is trying not to die from overexhaustion, but looking at you, Sylphie thinks you are not so good at that.”
“Piss off. I am doing what I can. Even so, I know my limits,” I brushed her off.
To say that I haven’t made any sacrifices would be wrong. I rarely went home during these times, and my free time was essentially cut in half. What became of my leisurely hours was an extended example of the ‘Tetris effect’, where a person experiences having their inner thoughts being replaced by creative solutions and ideas in regard to something they took part in. I want this case to be closed with a positive note, and I am determined to achieve that no matter what, even if it costs me my life. That is what it means to be a detective.
“Sylphie is being serious. You will die at this rate. This is not healthy in the slightest,” she frowned.
“Look, I get it. You are worried about me, but this is how I work when things need to get done.”
“Sylphie does not care about you, Detective. But she is your assistant, it is a part of her job to care.”
Back then, before the Stingrove District, Sylphie’s remarks were more harsh and meaningful. Now, they are more like friendly quips to make your comrades stay sharp. It is a part of her character that I grew to like, as weird as it seems.
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“Well, Sylphie, I can see that you do care, and I mean that in more than a work-related way,” I made an attempt to fluster her as a joke.
“That is the first time you were plainly wrong in front of Sylphie. World-class detective, they all claimed.”
She was partially right when she said I am overexerting myself, but these conversations have always been helpful regarding that. She has that type of personality that helps you alleviate your troubles, if only for a short while. During this long week of preparation, she never left my side for even a moment. Her way of working seems almost relaxed, but the truth is that Sylphie is a much more determined worker than any other Assistant Detective I have ever had in the past.
“We are going to need some entertainment if we’re planning on sitting here for ten straight hours. Any ideas?” I pondered.
She put a finger on her lips and thought. “Hmm, what if Sylphie listens to the radio while you replenish the sleep you are so deprived of?”
I was not sure if she was serious or not. Sylphie is the type of person that would wake me up when the time is right, but could I rely on her? It’s not like she is able to stay awake for this time period as well. I saw her dozing off a couple times when writing down the records, trying not to fall asleep. I also was unsure if she meant that she would be listening to the police radio, or the regular one.
“Probably not. I would like to stay awake for this. No radio for you.”
“How appalling,” she pouted.
“However, we can engage in some teambuilding conversation.”
“Sylphie is repulsed by that notion. Talking is pointless in most cases.”
“Don’t be like that! Surely you have something you could share,” I smirked at her.
She looked away from me, gazing into the window. I was unsure if she was looking outside or at her reflection. One thing I always adores is sharing stories with different detectives on which cases they had and what made them interesting. Detective Nagel has accumulated an impressive track record of over three hundred cases during his years, and he could tell you something of interest about every single one of them. As for me, I am more of a listener than a talker. When it comes to Sylphie, I know barely anything about her, and I certainly would not mind knowing more.
She slowly turned back to me. “If you so desire to know something, would you not find out already, Detective?”
“This is different than being a detective, Sylphie. I still have the common decency to not pry into your personal life.”
The expression that response made her do seemed like she was processing what I said, as if it was something new or unusual. Could she be a bit anti-social, perhaps?
“What if Sylphie’s personal life was related to this case? Would the Detective still not interfere?” She gave a half-smile.
“You are mysterious, but you also made a good enough impression to not make me think you are a murderer.”
“Sylphie thinks that it is a gamble on your part.”
“Don’t worry. When you reveal yourself to be the mastermind behind everything, I will have already known weeks before that.”
“You are jeopardizing the whole case with your foolish jokes, Detective,” she explained, reprimanding me.
“And you are steering the conversation away from the topic at hand.”
“Touché,” she said with squinted eyes.
Then, Sylphie followed up. “You want Sylphie to tell you something about her, correct?”
“You can never know someone too well,” I stated.
There is more to my intentions than getting to know her. She plays an important role in the demented theatre play that is MC-13. In a way, she can be considered to be the narration of the case. Sylphie Moore is the detective who knows the most about this awful case, because she has been with it since the beginning. How that idea came about is still unknown, but it is certainly welcome under my wing for her to continue being an Assistant Detective. In the three years since the first time ‘MC-13’ was written down on a document, surely she would learn more than I have in ten days? During our preparation, I tried to shake some of that possible material out of her, little by little. But to my dismay, there is still a bit of reluctance in her to cooperate with me. As for why that is – would it be wrong to try and find out?
