Torn City: The Almighty System

Sherlock Holmes

"I’ll need to hear all the details, from beginning to end!" Lincoln requested as he looked at the simple description of the Sub Mission.

"Aren’t you looking for Bolton’s daughter? That prick treated every one of our officers like his own servants!" Johnny expressed his dissatisfaction with Bolton.

He looked at Lincoln in disdain for a second, but he still revealed everything he knew about the case to him.

"The body was discovered by a drunkard near the train station just this morning. It had been left there like trash, dumped into a corner. I’ve came across a lot of evil men, but none of them would have treated a dead body like that!"

As he spoke about the murder case at hand, Johnny looked frustrated. He mechanically lit up a cigarette, offering Lincoln one as well.

Lincoln refused.

He told Johnny that he had brought his own smoking pipe.

There was no tobacco in it and Lincoln had no matches on him, but he still managed to convince John.

"Pipes are too messy for me, cigarettes are more convenient. Especially this Ship Brand cigarette. You should give it a try."

Johnny lit up the cigarette in his hand and started puffing out clouds of smokes.

After a few puffs, he resumed talking, "Well, we are currently understaffed, so if you are willing to help, I’d be grateful. This is a letter with my signature. It will grant you access to Arya Bolton’s school. I hope you’ll find something there."

While he was talking to Lincoln, Johnny was writing something on a piece of paper.

A few seconds later, he handed the paper to Lincoln.

This is what was written on it.

Lincoln, Official Police Consultant, hired by the police station.

Chief Officer: John

Station Director: Patrick

4.1.1861

Below all the names was the station’s seal.

When he saw the station director’s signature, Lincoln looked up at Johnny with a startled face.

"The bastard went off on his honeymoon two weeks ago. I’m in charge of everything now, so I have to deal with all this sh*t!"

After his rant about the director, Johnny took another puff of the cigarette.

"I thought you would send someone to help in my search." Lincoln waved the letter in his hand at John.

"Like I said, we are understaffed. Extremely understaffed!" Johnny ranted even more about the current situation.

Lincoln shrugged at his harsh reply.

No doubt, this was all the help that Lincoln was going to get from the Chief Officer. If Lincoln wanted more help, he would need to complete the Sub Mission first.

It was a little less than he had expected, but he was still on the right path.

"Even if I hadn’t triggered the Sub Mission, this letter would still have been given to me. If a Inmate had not triggered the Sub Mission though, they would have headed directly to Arya’s school. What if something’s happened there? I need to hurry!"

After some thought, Lincoln stood up.

He needed to hurry up and visit the train station where the body had been dumped.

Then, no matter what he discovered at the crime scene, he had to head quickly to the school. Bolton had mentioned that Arya went to school every day by horse wagon. All her remaining time, including her weekends, she spent with her parents.

Lincoln thought about Arya Bolton’s box underneath her bed. He assumed that the school would be a very important place.

It might not give him any direct clues, but he might at least be able to discover who had taught Arya how to disappear.

That might be the clue that would lead to her location.

"See you later!" Lincoln waved at Johnny swiftly.

Before Johnny could reply, Lincoln had already walked out of his office.

He exited the station and signaled for a wagon.

"To the train station, please," he told the driver.

.....

The crowd was noisy and messy, and there was an awful stench all around the filthy ground.

Lincoln came down from the wagon and witnessed the other side of the city.

It was not glamorous there and lack the peace and smiles.

All that was left were the hardships of survival that the people had to struggle with.

There were hard-working young men, middle-aged women carrying groceries, kids selling newspapers for a living, and beggars begging for money.

There were also people who blended in with the surroundings although they were slightly different from others.

They were wearing old, ragged clothes, but their hands were clean and nimble, and they mostly squatted down at corners, looking around for travelers. Once they spotted a target, they would follow them quietly and use those clean, nimble hands to pickpocket them.

Since Lincoln had laid his eyes on them, they had already pickpocketed a couple of travelers.

Their identity was obvious. They were thieves.

Lincoln did not bother mingling with them. He had better things to do.

He observed his surroundings and quickly found what he was looking for.

A fully-uniformed policeman still attracted attention in the area, no matter where he was standing.

Lincoln walked over.

"Stay back, this place is temporarily off limits!" the policeman on duty warned Lincoln as he spotted him.

He seemed like a dutiful officer with a sense of justice.

Lincoln appraised the officer and pulled out the letter.

The young policeman inspected Lincoln’s letter and greeted him with a smile, "Oh, you are Sir Lincoln! I’ve heard of you. Please to meet you, I’m Carl."

The identity that the system had given Lincoln proved useful once more.

Of course, it was the letter that granted Lincoln access in the end.

Lincoln put away the letter and said, "Good day, officer. May I have a look inside?"

"Yes, of course!" the officer answered as he made way for Lincoln.

Lincoln went past the officer into the alleyway.

It was dirtier and smellier than the ones he’d seen so far.

It wasn’t broad, it could even be considered narrow in a way, and there was a tall wall at the end of it.

No one would go there if they had any sense.

If it had not been for the drunkard’s accidental discovery, the body would have rotted away before anyone could have found it.

Lincoln inspected the ground carefully.

He entered the alleyway and turned on his [Tracking].

He could clearly see a set of messy footprints and the remaining blood stains.

It was not much use though. The messy footprints overlapped too many times, so he was unable to differentiate between them.

The blood stains revealed the location of the body, but did not help much either.

Lincoln could not help but frown.

This was not what he had been looking for.

He observed both sides of the alley. There was a red stain on the wall on his left side.

A blood stain.

Lincoln walked over and inspected it.

His brain started to function as he speculated about the situation.

"There are no dragging marks on the ground. The killer must have carried the body to the scene. The blood from the body might have seeped through a little, hence the blood on the wall. It should not have been that much though, or there would have been drops of blood on the ground. That means that the place where the killer killed the woman is not far from here! The killer must have purposely destroyed the woman’s face beyond recognition to hide her identity."

Lincoln measured the height of the blood stain.

"The killer was not very tall, but he must have been very strong. Otherwise, he would not have been able to carry the body all the way here! Besides, he scraped the left side of the wall, which means that he was carrying the body on his left shoulder, so he must have been left-handed! He also ripped the woman apart, so he must have hated her and been very familiar with butchering. Why would he have chosen not to bury or burn the body, if not to show off?" Lincoln asked himself.

The body had been dumped there, even though the alley was secluded.

It would have been much safer to just bury or burn it.

Unless....

Unless this was more convenient for the killer.

It would never raise any questions.

Lincoln turned his eyes outside the alleyway. Even from deep within the alley, he could clearly see a coolie carrying goods.

It seemed like the people making a living there only confirmed his speculations.

"Carl, I think I might have gotten something here!" Lincoln told the young police officer.

"What did you find?"

The young officer looked surprised. Despite the rumours about Lincoln’s skills, it still seemed unbelievable that he had discovered something so fast.

"The killer had to be shorter than you, but very strong and also left-handed. Go ask around who had been mingling with a redhead. He also might have been a butcher or something along that line. You might get something!" Lincoln pointed at the coolie further away from them.

As a policeman, Carl might have a better chance if he asked questions around.

Even better with a sense of authority. Which was what Lincoln wanted.

If the killer was really a coolie, that would be enough to scare him and force some kind of clue out of him.

"Oh... Okay." The young policeman was a little hesitant, but he still fulfilled his request.

Once again, Lincoln’s identity had proven useful.

Everything was going according to his expectations.

After a while, he heard a commotion from the place where the coolies gathered.

An average-height, strong-looking fellow had pulled out a dagger and was holding a skinny guy hostage.

The crowd quickly dispersed.

The young policeman was trying to handle the situation, but he did not have it under control.

Quite the opposite, as the man became more agitated, he used the dagger in his hand to slice the neck of his hostage.

A line of fresh blood spilled out, shocking the crowd.

Lincoln had to do something.

Using Carl’s identity to lure the ki

ller out had worked, but he did not want to cause any more casualties.

Suddenly, Lincoln noticed something and frowned a little.

A hand had been inching towards Lincoln’s pocket during the confrontation.