L: The old cases. Chapter One

L crouched on the armchair, looking up at the television. It was obvious. Amy fisher had the motive and the opportunity, and her alibi was backed up in exactly the same words by her doting millionaire husband, who was murdered a day later. Since the two hour detective program was only 10 minutes in, he meticulously lifted the controller, and switched the TV off. L lifted himself out of the seat, and, with a hunched back, walked towards the bathroom. He showered for 10 minutes exactly, and then made himself a cup of coffee.It was tested, and L decided to add another 6 sugar cubes. He sat himself back into the armchair, just as someone knocked at the door.
"Room service!" A shrill voice called.
"It's unlocked." He murmured, as he stirred the coffee carefully, with two clockwise turns, and then two counter-clockwise turns. At that moment, a plump lady entered pushing a trolley laden with different puddings. There was chocolate cake, trifle, yoghurt, and many different sweets and confectionary.
"You must have a sweet tooth dear!" The lady trilled.
"Indeed" He said, in his quiet monotone voice. "thank you Daisy."
The woman was confused. She was not wearing a name tag, neither was the young man facing in her direction, and she was sure she had never served him before.
" To answer your unspoken question." He began, "I last saw you three years ago, but at that time you were working in the Hilton in South London. I remember your voice." He took a sip of coffee.
"Thank you for the food. I will leave you a tip. Good day."
Daisy, still slightly confuse, left the room and went back to her duties.

After dinner, L watched television again.
Another murder he thought as he watched the 9 o'clock news. They will be on to me about this one soon. No sooner than he had finished this thought, his phone sang softly from his pocket. He lifted it out with care, and held it delicately to his ear, one hand over the mic, and the other over the speaker.
" yes Watari?" He said.


He knew it was the old man, since he was the only one who had his phone number.
"Where are you Ryuzaki?" The old man asked.
" Just a hotel, East London." L replied. " The stag on Bark street."
"Alright. I have been contacted by the..." Watari started
"I'm on my way."
"I'm at the current safehouse, all the equipment is here and there is a bed ready." Said Watari. "Have you read up much on the case?"
"No. ..To be honest I hoped they wouldn't call me on this one. I was hoping for a small break. It isn't particularly interesting. 3 dead, no suspects, all completely unrelated. It would be challenging, it would take me two weeks at the most, but it wouldn't have a particular pull. There isn't anything interesting!" L explained.
"Ahh..." He paused. "that's not completely true..."
"What is it?" Asked L, excited.
"Come to Scotland Yard." Watari said. "I think you are going to like this one!"

L walked silently down the hallway, wheeling his suitcase behind him. He walked straight past the lift, and took the stairs. His room was situated on the 2nd floor of the Hotel. It was perfect. He had studied this room, and it was perfectly placed. If he fell out of the window, the fall would be short, and he would land in a small, yet suprisingly deep minimising injuries. If he was pursued ther e were 4 stairways, on each corner of the building, he being in between two of them. There were 2 dumb waiters and 2 fire-exits close at hand to provide escape. It would not have mattered if he had not have remembered Daisy, since he read up on all staff members before checking in. She wasfourty-four years old, married with three children: John, Amelia, and David. It was part of his routine to research in such a manner. Yet he knew it was a buck-up. He kept his identity well hidden. His mobile could not be tapped, and even if it was, he had a perfect English accent, and perfect French, German, and Spanish accents, and many fake names assigned to each. For now though, he was Eraldo Coil. He handed his key back to the front desk on the ground floor, and left a tip for Daisy.
He walked a little way down the pavement. He signaled for a taxi, and one pulled up

Derek had had a good day. He had taken several tourists round London, Charging extortionate fares, and he was happy. He was signaled, and He judged it was a boy, or a young man. He was hunched over, and he was holding onto a single suitcase. As he got closer, he was able to get a better view. He was a young man, twenty at the most, and he had messy black hair and pale skin. He looked...Dishevelled. His trainers had once been white, but now were a brown colour, and were worn, with the laces undone. He wore a plain baggy white tee shirt, and old whitewashed jeans, both riddled with stains. Derek clenched his teeth. The man looked poor. But, against his good judgement, he slowed down and allowed the man to climb into the back of the cab.
"Scotland Yard please." Murmured the man.
Derek was slightly unnerverd by the deepness of the man's voice, but he pulled onto the main road and set off.
He had only been driving for a few minutes before he realised that everything about the guy annoyed him. The boy wasn't even sitting! He was crouching on the seat, Wiping his grubby Shoes all over it! He was looking in the mirror, his eyes drilling into him... And what eyes. They were as black as his hair. And he had a puzzled, dreamy expression on his face as he pinched his lip between two fingers. Derek took a deep breath and his hand tightened on the wheel.
Finally the horror ended, and he pulled up to Scotland Yard.
"that will be fifty pounds please." Derek said.
" The meter calculates the fare base on the time of day, the distance travelled, and the speed at which the taxi travelled. We travelled four miles. Our average speed was 15 miles an hour, and we started the journey at 6:37 and finished it at two minutes to seven. The maximum taxi fair would be twenty seven pounds, although it would, in this case, be twenty-one pounds fifty. I am going to forget about the price you set and pay you twenty five."The man explained as he reached into his pocket and retrieved a rubber band rapped around many five pound notes. He unravelled it and handed derek four of them. He replaced them and tossed a pound coin to the perplexed driver. He climbed out the car and shut the door but leaned in through the window and said:
"A tip".

Derek sighed. It was going to be a crap evening.
The man flashed a smile and walked through the front foor of Scotland Yard.