Authors note: Are you familiar with a game I've seen very commonly across college fests? It's called crime scene and involves, well, a crime scene and the participants playing sherlock. I was recently involved in organising one and it was quite fun to see everyone going all out on unravelling the plot. Now I take no credits for the plot, it is the product of me and two friends brainstorming together. I then penned it down into a short story alongside a video (which is now sadly corrupted).

Now that the event is over and I doubt the plot is going to be used again I thought I'd share it here with you guys. Have a go and take your pick on who committed the crime. It's a little rushed to accommodate the time limit but a fun (and morbid) case nonetheless.

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It was a day as dull and bleak as any other at the police station, the hours faded into the sounds of the pen scratching paper and the clattering of the keyboards. But as the sun began the last stretch of its westward journey, a homeless man burst into the police station.

He greeted no one. With the air of one familiar with the motions, he walked straight to the inspectors desk and plopped down on a seat, "I have information on a murder" he said, letting that statement hang in the air. 

The inspector sighed, knowing he would not be getting another word out of the man until some form of compensation was offered.

The inspector, Mark O'Neil signalled for some food to be brought. Digging into the meal with wild abandon, the satiated man finally began narrating his tale. 

"I was walking around, same as everyday, gathering bottles to sell when I saw this man smoking near a garbage dump. Now this man was battered I tell you, and he was right next to one of the good dumps. There is always something precious to be found there. Me thought he was trying to take over my area, so I ran at him. But I tell you, he was a cowards, as soon as he saw me coming, he ran into a camper van parked to the side and drove off. Turns out he wasn't homeless after all then. But that dastard was in unnatural hurry, and I didn't want him back, so I kept running behind him. When ehe made a sharp turn out of the alley one bag fell out of the open window. Here, look for yourself."

Dusting off his greasy hands, he hoisted one of his bags on the table. Mark noted that the bag was much cleaner than the others the vagrant carried. He donned sterile gloves before opening the bag, the first thing that hit him was the stench within. Holding his breath, he opened the bag wider. Inside, he saw human fingers, possibly the whole arm was in there too.

Having finished his meal,  the homeless man gathered his bags and walked out. "You will have to pay me with more next time officer. Giving the police information is risky business around here."

Mark ignored him, his mind occupied with the crime mystery before him. The air in the police station tingled with the excitement such cases brought with them. And like a well oiled machine, it burst into action. One constable brought out the kits and began packing the evidence to be shipped off to the forensics department. Meanwhile Mark filled the forms and wrote the letter of information. With his seal on the packages, the parcel was quickly delivered to the closest facility, a mere 10km from them.

While the wait for the results of the analysis dragged on, the phone rang, "Hello, Dunstan police station here"

"Hello, this is the city hospital. We're calling to report a missing patient. We could not call before due to a hospital rush. James, 28 years old was admitted around five hours ago. He had both his arms violently chopped off and  refused to report the cause of the injury. His claim was an workplace accident. However we found his name on the cities unemployment benefit scheme. Our doctors think the ampitation was executed with planning and with the patients approval. He was brought in by two young men who left before we could get more information. Another visitor, an old man named Hudson Wormwood is still here, we've asked him to stay in the waiting room till we get further updates."

"Noted, please forward the documents to the police station and hold the old man there. My team will be there soon." Mark cut the call and his mind strayed to the two hands he obtained a little more than two hours ago. The timer ticked, waiting for the forensic analysis to finish.

A pair of officer were sent to the garbage dump where the arms were found while another pair went to the hospital. 

Nothing noteworthy was found in the garbage dump, the vehicle had barely left any skid marks and the surveillance camera revealed the area to be untouched in the brief time that had passed since the accident, the drivers face was not captured and the vehicle had no number. There was a belt buckle too, with the words 'Phantom S' engraved on it.

Back in the poloce station, Mark saw the time, 6pm, long enough for the reports to have been generated. He called the forensics department to ask if they had any leads. 

The forensics department had managed to identify the hands (thanks to the DNA data of all the citizens being uploaded due to a mandatory scheme). But the case was complicated, they claimed. A woman picked up the call and briefed Mark on the reports.

"We were just about to call you officer. The hands belong to two different individuals. One is a man named James Wormwood and the other Logan Wormwood. Both the hands have been severed with completely different weapons. James's hands were cut with prevision and have traces of burnt tissue. The style seems similar to precious cases relating to the cultists group 'Phantom Ghosts'. We have identified the same cut pattern as the one their standard knives have. It looks like James may have been a victim,  willing or unwilling, for one of their bone ceremonies. We have tried to trace his family, but Logan and his father seem to be the only relatives still in contact. James was a cousin of Logan, the second victim." Here the woman paused, allowing Mark to finish his notes.

"And what about the second victim, Logan?" Mark asked finishing his notes, his pen poised for more details.

The woman continued, "Logan Wormwood worked as a construction worker. His information states that he lives with his father. His arm is severed a lot more violently, the section is also longer. They probably intended to trim it with the correct knives later on. Both the arms have tattoos, although Logan's tattoo is bigger." She went on to describe the tattoos. 

James had a black tattoo of an odd creature or some vibrant apparition on his hand while Logan's arms had an elaborate rose on them.

Finally gathering all the information and documents, Mark thanked the lady and cut the call. He studied the reports sent over, but found nothing new in them. It was time for on site investigations.

Two teams drove off from the station. One team set off to find Logan's relatives and collect testimonials from them. Logan's mother and family friends were easy enough to find, they had been away on a trip and when the news that Logan was missing -and possibly dead- was revealed, they broke down. 

Another team inspected the apartment. Logan's father was missing, but the apartment looked spotless on the surface. The only things that seemed to be out of place were: a glass of wine with a shattered bottle of wine near it;  a book laying on the red couch; there was a leather insigna with a comb like shape and some faded letters on it; the receiver of the phone that had not been placed back and instead lay on the floor.

While the team of police officers barricaded and inspected the apartment, Mark went to inspect the last known location of the second victim, James.

In the hospital, a lone officer gathered relevant documents while Mark and his colleagues interrogated the doctors and the old man. The doctors told them that the wounds had been sealed with a hot plate ofor some kind before James came in with two men. The wound had swelled and the pain had convinced James to call Logan (the only number he had on fastdial) who drove him here. After admitting James, the nurse had overheard them planning to go drinking at the local bar. Logan's father, who had been visiting James was here too, he told them about Logan and his new friend Parker.  

"Logan and Parker met via James and decide to go drinking. I think Parker might have been visiting James, which was why they both brought James here." The old man, Hudson paused, his lips trembling with emotion before continuing, "They were completely hammered within the hour. I received a call from my sons number, but instead of Logan it was Parker who spoke. He asked me to come pick them up from a bar named 'The spectre'. I'm already tried of Logan's habits. He never listens anymore, so I've given up on trying to change him. What else can an old sack of bones like me do. I simply came and dropped them off at my house before deciding to come visit James at the hospital here. By the time I came here, James was already gone."

"Do you remember what Parker looked like?", Mark's collegue asked.

"I do", Hudson said, before describing the man. He also mentioned how Parker had met James at the tattoo salon where they both went, a tale Parker had narrated to him as he questioned him during the car ride.

"That was all I know", Hudson sighed before burying his head in his hands.

Mark visited Logan's family too and obtained their testimonies. A quick investigation also told them that Parker had left Logains apartment 10 minutes after Hudson left and was now present at a bar, 'Happly Hours' where he was employed. His testimony was gathered as well.

With the on site search for information complete, the officers retreated back to the police station to compare notes.

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"Who is it that you suspect?"