Coyle and Fang: Curse of Shadows (Coyle and Fang Adventure Series Book 1) by Robert III (great books for teens .txt) 📗

whiskey. “He ordered a double single-malt whiskey and took two sips.” She paused when she received confused looks before continuing. “The average gentleman will wait between two and a half and three and a half minutes between sips. The measured whiskey in the glass would be the same amount as a double serving, minus two sips. For now, we will ignore the other glass, which obviously belongs to a patron who is out of this storyline.”

She did find strange fingerprints on this other glass. Though the imprints were most certainly produced by skin oils, there were no ridges and dips characteristic of human fingertips. She found this most curious. Trevin had apparently been involved in another possible death and then met with someone without fingerprints. But she didn’t have all the facts, just circumstantial evidence. And her excitement was overshadowed by the stress of passing the test.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “He had sat at the table for about seven minutes when he was shot.” She pointed at the ceiling. “From directly above into the apex of his skull.”

The men stared up at the two-story ceiling. Mumbles peppered the air, and fingers pointed at the hole they had just discovered.

“Yes, gentlemen, an assassin was at work,” Coyle said.

“An assassin!”

“Goodness gracious!

“What on earth?”

“Please.” She raised her finger at them, her neck bristling with heat. “Please allow me to continue, thank you.” She was in her element now, and she detested when people showered her with their inane questions. The mumbling faded to whispers until she shot the last two murmurers a look. Their mouths closed, and she continued.

“I know this may seem confusing, but I will be thorough in my explanations and will be pleased to answer questions after I finish. Now.” She motioned to the head, and they followed like obedient schoolchildren. She knelt and lifted tufts of hair. “Do you see this hole?”

Some of the men reached for their glasses as she spread the victim’s hair to the side.

“This is an entry wound, see?” She pointed at the crown before motioning to the neck. “And here.” She slid a finger along a portion of the torn skin and stood. “Who wants to smell?” She shoved the bloodied fingers into their faces.

The judges recoiled and shook their heads. A few had their mouths agape in horror or shock that a woman would willfully stick her fingers inside a decapitated head.

She lifted her finger to her nose. “Blood has its own organic scent, mostly of iron. But during my investigation, I discovered another altogether inorganic scent: hydraulic fluid.” She sniffed at her finger and offered it to the nearest judge. He glanced to his side before leaning in to smell. He inhaled and pursed his lips.

“Hydraulic fluid,” he agreed, and leaned back. “Jeremy, have a whiff. This is remarkable.” The judge next to him leaned in and sniffed. His eyes went wide. Now all of them wanted to smell the fresh clue. Some nodded, but most were awash with confusion.

“The hydraulic fluid,” she continued, “was found inside the victim’s neck, and it came from a tiny device which shot out these tiny blades.” She held up the object she’d pulled out of the wall.

“Remarkable!”

“This is quite something!”

“I can’t wait to tell Peter.”

“But who would assassinate him?”

“Can a device that tiny be—”

She cleared her throat. “Gentlemen, please, please!” The judges abruptly shut their mouths. Someone mouthed, “Beg your pardon.”

“And so, dear gentlemen, judges of the Academy”—she nodded to Meys—“and Master Detective Meys, here is my synopsis: Mr. Trevin met with unknown persons at a, ahem, brothel and came here to discuss whatever it was they were discussing.” A trickle of sweat ran down her back, and her fingers twitched. She felt confident with her solutions, but would they really let her into their world?

“He was shot by an assassin from above. The precisely engineered round penetrated his skull and sank into his neck. The device rested inside before it followed its design, which was to open and burst outward in a counterclockwise fashion. Two flechette razors were released from a tight coil, spinning with great speed. The resulting action cut his veins, muscle, tendons, and bone until all flesh was severed and his head was decapitated. The blades exited from the right and left sides of his neck and buried themselves deep into the walls here.” She pointed out where the blades had been buried. “Seemingly never to be found. The device used was a specific and professionally engineered item of which I have never seen the likes before.”

“That’s quite extraordinary, Constable Coyle. Extraordinary, indeed,” Meys said. “But please provide the judges with proof of your evidence.”

“Sir?” she asked.

“Your synopsis is truly interesting,” he said. “But where are your recorded findings for submission of evidence?”

“Well, I used my brain to deduce probabilities and collect the—”

“Constable Coyle, are we to understand you do not have your pad of paper to record the evidence?”

She cleared her throat, “Well, sir, I don’t actually have a pad of paper. It seems someone pickpocketed me earlier.”

“Constable, are we to believe you allowed someone to pickpocket you? And do you suppose you could enter a court of law and offer a brief synopsis of the evidence you gathered... using your brain?”

Someone chuckled. Her skin prickled. She was going to lose her only chance. All because they couldn’t stand to let her into their detectives club! But she had to remain professional no matter the circumstance. She cleared her throat and took a breath.

“Sir, I understand the importance of gathering evidence for submission to a court, but we are standing in a facsimile of an unsolvable case, which I have almost certainly solved,” she said.

“Watch your tone, Constable! I simply asked if you had a way of gathering evidence during the mock investigation. A simple pad of paper and pencil. Basic, rudimentary tools used by a detective to gather and provide evidence when necessary.”

“Sir, I gathered evidence using my eyes, fingers, and mind.” She counted her trembling fingers in front