"Detective Arthur? If you receive this message, please call me back. We've just got a new case."
The recorded voice played and repeated three times in succession, rousing Arthur from his dream and pulling him awake.
He rolled his shoulders slightly, slipped his feet into his slippers, and walked into the bathroom.
In the mirror stood a man who could still be called fairly young, around twenty-five years old. At that age, he should have been in the prime of vigor and youth, yet what Arthur exuded was nothing but a dim, pale atmosphere.
Letting the hot water from the shower pour down and wash away the layer of dead skin flaking from his body, Arthur regained a little spirit, the heaviness of sleep swiftly receding.
He brushed his teeth carefully, smoothed down his slightly disheveled hair, then stepped out of the house without even bothering with breakfast.
His residence was a small lodging tucked inside an alleyway. Even so, the place was quite safe, as it was only a few blocks away from the Berkeley Police Department headquarters.
"Sarah, it's me."
Arthur dialed back the number from before. Sarah picked up but did not say a word—she simply sent him an address.
"Looks like today's going to be a busy one."
Clicking his tongue, Arthur glanced at the address and immediately took a cab toward the location.
…
The destination was a small church situated some distance away from the city center.
Around the church, cordon tape had already been strung up to keep out civilians. A few officers stood on guard, while police cars flashed red-and-blue lights that stung Arthur's eyes. After all, the sky was still dim, the sun not yet risen, and visibility remained fairly low.
Ignoring all of this, Arthur showed his badge to the officer at the cordon and stepped inside.
Sara, a blonde woman with a model-like figure, was waiting for him at the church entrance.
Though she had only officially joined the force not long ago, she was by no means incompetent.
She was Arthur's partner. Don't be fooled by her looks, Sarah was academy-trained, well-versed in close combat and hand-to-hand fighting, very much a frontline officer. But because of her appearance, she often went through partners quickly, unable to tolerate their behavior.
It was only after she partnered with Arthur that things finally settled down.
Not because of any affection, simply because Arthur couldn't be bothered to care.
"What is it this time? Another homicide?"
Hearing him speak with such calm indifference, Sarah frowned slightly, then let out a weary sigh and pushed open the rear door.
"Since when has a case transferred to us ever been anything but serious? You'd better take a look for yourself."
Soon, the entire scene inside the small church came into Arthur's view.
Nothing unusual, just a church with slightly old-fashioned architecture, rows of pews laid out across the main hall.
But at the very center, a body had been placed neatly. It was an elderly man, dressed in priest's robes, lying in the middle with hands clasped upon his chest, bearing an expression of serene peace.
"Poisoning?"
Arthur cast a glance at the officers photographing the body, then spoke to Sarah.
Sarah did not deny it.
"Seems so. Judging from the exterior, there are no wounds that could have caused death. The scene shows no sign of disturbance, nor any trace of blood."
"So, poisoned then."
"Don't jump to conclusions. Let's wait for the coroner's report."
"Sure, sure."
Arthur brushed it off and began inspecting elsewhere, Sarah following at his side.
The church itself had little worth noting. Only the two entrances, the front and rear mattered. Checking the back door, Arthur found it locked from the inside.
Without a word, he immediately proceeded into the priest's quarters.
The room was plain, if not austere exactly as Arthur had imagined. On the desk before the bed lay an open book. After a moment's observation, Arthur confirmed that the priest must have been in the middle of reading when he was called out.
With the rear door locked from within, it was highly likely that, late at night, the killer had knocked on the church door. The priest had opened it, and what followed was inevitable.
That morning, when the priest failed to collect his usual bread delivery, the delivery man knocked on the church door. Receiving no reply, he tried the handle and found the door unlocked. Inside, at the center of the church, lay the priest's lifeless body.
Though Sarah insisted a proper conclusion awaited the coroner's report, Arthur was already certain: this was indeed a murder.
Not being a graduate of the police academy, Arthur's approach to cases was different—he often began by sketching psychological profiles of victims or suspects, which then led to various investigative leads.
When he had first joined the department, many officers dismissed his methods as nonsense. After all, detectives were supposed to rely on hard evidence, while Arthur's approach often sounded like guesswork. Coupled with his taciturn manner, easily mistaken for arrogance or aloofness. Arthur was far from well-liked, even after proving his ability.
That was also why he ended up partnered with Sarah. One was unwelcomed, the other was welcomed by all. Sarah needed a partner who wouldn't approach her with ulterior motives, and Arthur needed a partner who wouldn't sneer at his methods or meddle in his work.