Crypto Murders: That’s Police Work

Marijuana vapor floated throughout Kim’s house. Its potency could knock over a small elephant. She truly enjoyed vaporizing. The effects took hold and made her focus.

She developed and generated new ideas to the tune of two hundred different leads. She singled out the mansion in Hockessin again.

The entirety of the investigation would rest on her being able to discover the ways the trails led.

She got better and better at the task of stripping apart the non essentials and honing in on the facts that sprang up. In particular, she found her own pace and rhythm that permitted her to become the best thinker in her own way. She understood the excellence of her own mind. She greeted the data like a lovers kiss. Then she thought of him. She quickly transitioned from one distinct idea to the next with an active and smooth transition.

The tools she used from her days as a detective propelled her to become better at her role as a pseudo investigator at this point. But maybe it was once an investigator, always an investigator. She blew out the vapor and felt a chill. Her stomach grumbled. She made herself a salmon wrap with chips.

As she ate, she put down the vaporizer and continued to look at the charts which showcased the points that related to the suspect. When she had trained her eye on that mansion, she knew that she had to act on it. She looked at the data with a tiger’s eye.

She circled around her living room. She chose which options she could use to connect the various points on the digital board. She knew how important it was to close in on this case. These young women who could barely speak English were being snatched. She had to find a way to nab this guy before another woman was lost.

She noticed the disappearance of a man from a homeless shelter. He fit a lot of the descriptions that witnesses had mentioned.

He had just left without checking out or anything. She related his disappearance to that of coal magnate Mumar Golster. The billionaire had been missing at the same time as the suspect. She finished her meal and pulled on the vaporizer. She kept taking all her time.

In between the levels of enjoying the smoke, she still remained intune with what she was doing. The patterns that emerged came through in colors. The waves of different hues prompted her to say there was something more fishy than her sandwich going on here.

By learning through her mistakes, she seriously considered the route of calling on the maids and drivers of Mr. Golster. Since he lived by himself and had many girlfriends, she flirted with the idea of calling them as well. That’s police work. I’m no longer a police officer. But once a cop….

She phoned St. Kitts.

“Save the jokes. You and Darby are the worst. I’ve got a connection that you should be apprised of.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Golster.”

“The billionaire. What about—he disappeared when these snatchings started occurring.”

“Exactly. So the pothead professor can make some waves when it comes to steering an investigation she’s not officially privy to.”

“Clever girl.”

“What are you from Britain?” She enjoyed a deep laugh.

“Okay, okay. You might have something here. But I want to make sure. send your screenshot of the digital board and we’ll continue to move from there.”

“Roger.”

After she sent the screenshot she walked around her townhouse barefoot and just wearing a DIT sweatshirt and shorts. She sat down at her tablet and typed up a letter for the FBI to read. It was more like a white paper. The professor in her challenged her to be clear and concise.