Just a Drop of Genius with Your Tea?
Prologue
A drop of midnight ink tumbles from the tip of an eagle feathered pen to splash on the crumpled page, water splashes up onto the cobblestones of a bustling plaza to stain the shoes of a passing cloaked man, a flower floats down to land upon the paw of a deeply sleeping basset hound, a pebble rolls out into the path of a black car becoming wedged in its wheel, a young girls ribbon is tugged from her hair by a vicious wind only to land on the uppermost ledge of the building across the road, an unremarkable brown cloth bag is dropped down an even more so unremarkable drain, a cooling corpse is slipped off the Sorbus Aucuparia bridge and two dark figures walk away.
Completely un-sequential events that could not have been connected by just looking at them written on a piece of paper, but when they are put in the right order and the correct people are placed at the correct event then these completely un-sequential events make perfect sense. But not quite yet, a game of chess cannot begin until the first move is made. And now the white has placed its first pawn forwards, black must begin to calculate the answering shift of play, and who am I? Who sits in the shadows, directing the black? That is something that is currently not needed to be known, but you may call me Callum.
But then the question of whom is commanding the white? Well, that is what I am paid to find out. Who am I? I am the Detective.