New York, 1920s11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeECOn2RJ2T
It’s a muggy summer evening. I’m at the Moonlit Quill, a nightclub in downtown New York. I’m brooding over the case that’s been keeping me up day and night, a glass of whiskey in my hand and a heavy weight on my chest. The atmosphere here is warm and inviting: dim lights, the low murmur of conversation, a slow, captivating jazz melody drifting from the stage. Good whiskey. They could stop time right now, and it would be enough for me. I’d be content, as this moment stretched on into eternity.
But the feeling doesn’t last.
A scream, sudden and sharp. The music cuts off, conversations die, and the air turns razor-thin, like the edge of a blade. At the center of the room, a shadow stumbles forward. The white floor stains red. The figure—a woman in her thirties—has wide, terrified eyes, her hands clutching her throat. There’s something in her gaze, something dark that almost pulls me in, dragging me down with her into the deepest corners of the human soul.
You could hear a pin drop. Silence. Then chaos.
She collapses. People scream, scatter, call for help. Only one man keeps his composure, rushing to the nearest telephone to call an ambulance. By then I’ve already risen from the bar, watching it all unfold—and I know.
It’s him. No doubt about it.
The man who’s been terrorizing the streets of New York for over a month now, stealing what little sleep I get, has struck again.
When the paramedics arrive, I flash my badge, step toward the woman’s lifeless body, and begin my examination. A clean cut across the throat. A sharp blade—likely a knife. Maybe even a small one, easy to slip into a pocket. I brush aside her dark hair, and something catches the light.
A stamp.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMsvmhnLAVV
Another one.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3AhZ3v4v54
It depicts a train.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgakLpVoFQP
I don’t yet understand the meaning behind such a peculiar detail. But one thing is certain—it’s his signature. As if his victims were works of art. Something to boast about. Something to remember. To celebrate.
Once I’m done, I turn to the few people still inside, hoping to gather what little I can. The bartender who served me says he caught a glimpse of a suspicious figure—a black coat, a black fedora—moving down the main corridor. Beyond that, nothing.
The young woman on stage—the one whose voice carried that gentle melody—might have more to say.
“Her name was Marlene,” she says, tears tracing down her cheeks. “She was a dear friend… and a colleague here at the Moonlit Quill. She was supposed to take over after my set tonight.”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr7k7rSS30v
As she speaks, I jot everything down in my usual leather notebook.
“Marlene…?”
“Marlene Peacock,” she replies softly. Her gaze is shaken. I lower my eyes, writing the name down, then sigh.
“Miss…?”
“Elizabeth… Holt.”
“Miss Holt, do you have any idea if anyone might have wanted to harm Miss Peacock?”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpVrLlnj5DI
Her eyes drift, searching through memories.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0XlQkuwJj9
“Not that I know of… everyone liked her. I can’t think of anyone who would…” She stops, her teeth nervously nibbling at the lower lip. Her body is begging her to break down, but my presence holds her together.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡExgrelQFSH
“A jealous lover? A violent relative…?”
She raises a hand to her face, ashamed and grieving. Tears glide over her smooth skin, golden curls falling over her shoulders. Then she shakes her head.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR42isuMSIE
“No. I don’t think her boyfriend—or her family—would ever hurt her.”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVlfXkLdzAP
I nod, lingering on her words. “A stamp was found on her body. Behind her neck.” I show it to her. “It depicts a train. Does it mean anything to you?”
A slight flinch—barely noticeable. A moment where her mind stalls, processing something deeper. Then she recovers.
“A train? I… I can’t think of anything, to be honest…”
I study her for a moment, then lower my gaze and continue writing.
“I see. Thank you for your cooperation. If anything comes to mind, don’t hesitate to give me a call.”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsyyWMMkDOp
I scribble a number, tear the page, and hand it to her.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrlmj0qYN1x
“My number. Detective Atlas Calloway.”11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡauJpcAjEog
Our eyes meet for a brief moment, recognizing each other, yet not truly knowing one another. Her eyes remind me of the pale hue of seawater. She seems calmer now, but I offer one last reassurance before leaving.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9eY3aI8OD8
I start to walk away, but before leaving, I glance ahead and say, “We’ll catch him. Don’t worry.”
She follows me with her eyes.
“Good night, Miss Holt,” I say, adjusting the brim of my hat.
She hesitates, just for a heartbeat. “Good night, detective.”
By then, the paramedics have already taken the woman’s body away on a stretcher, heading for the hospital. I continue questioning the others, but none of them can offer anything useful11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTsOzTZwdm2
If people won’t speak, then perhaps the place itself will.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUl4RJQ3kgP
I move through the rest of the building, searching for anything out of place—but everything is clean. Too clean. No traces. As if the killer were a ghost.
Or as if there were no killer at all.
With my investigation yielding next to nothing, I step outside, frustrated. For now, I have almost nothing—just the victim’s name and a vague description of the suspect. Still, I tell myself, it’s something.
But Miss Holt’s subtle reaction to the mention of the train lingers in my mind. A small detail, perhaps meaningless—but one I won’t ignore.
Under the heavy sky, I reach into my coat pocket, pull out a cigarette and a lighter, and take in the city’s night life. Lost in thought. Then I head home, a trail of smoke following me like a faithful shadow.
I think. I brood.
And I hope that, one day, I’ll finally bring this case to an end.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTmjj7CqgT4
and then Add to home screen.