Head of the Detectives

It was stiflingly hot on the streets, and Kane’s raging heart was not helping. He felt like a sizzling steak, salty and ready to eat. He raced towards his island of solitude and flung open the door. It had to be here somewhere. He scattered his fine collection of knifes and daggers. No sign of it. He proceeded to rummage inside his bag but the force of his eagerness ripped it open and the contents fell on the floor with a clatter. He dropped to his knees and looked. Nothing. He had to trace his steps back from the pier. Going back to a crime scene was as good as suicide. How could have he been so careless. Wild theories of Sati finding out his hobby each one more absurd that the other formed inside his head. He went back to the deserted pier at the harbor but with least hopes of finding it. It was too crowded and anyone could have picked it up. After an hour of frantically searching for the foot long shiny blade, he decided to return to the crime scene.

He went back to the main road at the power plant and cruised over to the left. Slowly, as though someone watching might think he was a harmless explorer, he turned left. When he took the third turn right, a winking red light caught his eye and he glanced down the cluster of trees. The yellow tape was already up, and several hover-crafts were crowded into a hurried splay. He ducked and slipped under the tape. The large, bare concrete room was unnaturally quiet. The officers stood in silent groups of two and three, as if afraid to be alone, and simply looked at the towers of cash, loose change and notes in fifty’s and hundreds being fetched by the technicians. The only sound in the room was the scampering of feet of the boys holding the trunks laden with stoners. Kane would have laughed out loud if he hadn't been missing his murder weapon.

A loud yell made him turn. “Hey this is a crime scene,” a man came hurrying from behind him. He had jet black hair and a scar ran through his forehead. “Who do you think you are busting in on an ongoing investigation?”

“I’m here to meet my friend Robert” Kane said

“Well well well, look who it is” said the man. He had to be Harry, the head of the peacekeeper detectives.

“Kane Morgan” Kane offered a handshake. Harry stared but didn’t shake it.

“I know who you are Mr. Kane, but you might not know me”

”Matter of fact I do” said Kane brightly, “Mr. Harry, head of the detective department”.

He looked unimpressed.

“Why are you here Mr. Morgan?”

“I just wanted to meet my friend. He hasn’t been answering my calls” Kane said casually. He looked at his eyes, intently. Trying to figure out what it was.

Harry jerked his head, “He is not here”

“Then I’ll take your leave” Kane said. There was something wrong.

Did he suspect him? Did he find his prints on the knife he left behind?

Kane slowly walked towards the door when Harry called him.

“Mr. Morgan, I joined the force seven years ago as a traffic keeper. The day I joined, a fellow human sprinted up to me and urged me to stop a young demilien following him, but before I could act the demilien sped away. The man was never seen again. Do you know who was the demilien that slipped from my hands and killed a human in cold blood?”

“I can hardly guess…” Kane said, abusing every ounce of his will to keep calm.

“It was you Mr. Morgan. I could never find any evidence of your wrong doing but I do follow you. People you hate have a tendency to go missing suddenly.”

“You think so earthling” Kane said, dropping his casual mannerism, “then prove it.”

This was a war. A war of right and wrong! And he knew the humans were wrong!