'You didn't sleep, did you?', I asked Blazing, watching him seated on the sofa, the handkerchief on the small table in front of him.

'Nope.'

'Isn't it dangerous thinking on a tired brain?'

'Normally, I would agree with you. But this case, its so...interesting. I can't waste time sleeping, especially when such a crucial clue has been found.', he said, holding up the handkerchief.

'Still trying to figure out what it means?'

'Yeah, that's the thing. Usually, handkerchiefs have just two alphabets printed... The initials of the owner's name. But this one has five. I need to know what they stand for.'

'Can we talk about another clue now? How did the guy who paid Jacob Quinn know Cassie was gonna make a trip?', I asked.

'Firstly, do not assume it is a "guy". It is a colossal mistake to be sexist in criminal work. And secondly, yes I have thought about it, and it really is quite strange. Michael and Cassie aren't really the outgoing type. Now, if Michael got drunk in a bar and blurted it out... Wait! Social Media!'

Blazing jumped up and went for my phone on the breakfast table. He unlocked it swiftly.

'Wait, how did you know my passcode?', I was surprised.

Blazing pointed to the trash. On top of it, was a small scrunched up piece of paper where I had written down a riddle to help me remember my passcode in case I forgot. But what I couldn't understand was how he cracked it, because the clues in the riddle had events from my childhood in it. Guess 1111 is not secure anymore.

'Nothing on Instagram... or Snapchat... or Twitter... or Tumblr...'

Seriously? Tumblr?

'Try Facebook. Oldies tend to use that.', I suggested.

Blazing paused, looked at me, and said, more to himself than to me, 'Why didn't I think of Facebook?'

Blazing kept furiously tapping on my phone, and then stopped, read something carefully, and smiled.

'You wouldn't believe it, but you're right.', said Steven Blazing, and handed me the phone to look at it.

Who's The Unscrambler now? Huh?!

I glanced at the screen. Cassie had posted an update, her last ever, a picture of her with her parents,  captioned: 'Packing for a trip to my Folks' for a world of Bad Jokes!' She had tagged both of them too.

The post was from a week ago, she had clearly mentioned when she was leaving.

I suddenly felt very sad. Cassie, who was clearly a woman of unquestionable integrity and dignity, died with the belief that her husband suspected her of infidelity.

Steven Blazing heaved a big sigh and sat down, disappointed.

'This is the first clue which has led to a dead-end. Now we know ANYONE could have known about her trip.'

I was about to say something, when suddenly Blazing's phone rang. It was Detective Walker, who had called us on FaceTime, for some reason.

Steven Blazing picked it up. Believe it or not, Walker was STILL in his police uniform. I wouldn't be surprised if it was fused with his skin.

'Any news?', questioned Blazing.

'Yeah, some. We've managed to track down Martin Marks. I'm texting you his address. We're still looking for the other ones, but I thought you might like to follow up on anything available.'

'A very wise decision. Time is of the essence. We'll leave immediately, then.'

'Yeah, that's the thing. Martin told us he's out right now, but he'll return within 30 minutes, so he asked you to stall for a while.'

I saw a faint smile form on Blazing's face.

'Oh yeah, sure, SURE.', replied Steven Blazing.

'One more thing.', said Detective Walker, 'Martin Marks was a Marksman, so if anything goes wrong, be on your marks, Man!'

I saw Detective Walker's cheeks puff up, as if he was trying to stifle a laugh after his big joke.

Steven and I looked at each other.

You know, something tells me THIS was the exact reason he chose to FaceTime us.

'Right, thank you Detective Walker.', said Blazing and hung up.

Walker texted the address soon.

'Let's go.', said Blazing.

'Right now? Didn't Walker ask us to wait for half an hour?'

'Yes, but we're not going to. Never, I repeat, NEVER allow your suspect to be prepared. When he sees us standing in front of his house BEFORE him, he'll be vulnerable.'

'How do you know that?'

'You'll see. Get ready in 5 minutes.'

I think half my life in New York City will be spent in taxis.

We reached Martin's home. As expected, he wasn't there. We waited for around 10 minutes, looking around, after which a blue pick-up truck pulled into the driveway. A man dressed in orange stepped out.

'Uhh, can I help you?'

'I believe you were told we were coming by the police?', asked Blazing.

'Oh yes, I thought you will come later, since I told them I wasn't home.'

'May I ask where you were, Mr.Marks?',questioned Blazing.

'Visiting a friend.'

'Where?'

'Steuben County.', said Martin, cautiously.

Blazing whipped out his phone and looked something up.

'Steuben County...about 4 hours 30 minutes away by car... You sure you were just visiting a friend?'

'Yes, why do you ask?'

'You wouldn't have been, say, HUNTING?'

'No, why would you say that?', asked Martin, surprised.

Steven Blazing took a deep breath.

'Because I notice you are wearing knee-high rubber boots, usually as protection against snakes and in rainy weather. The boots have mud on their underside, meaning you have walked somewhere where it rained, or is raining. But the tires of your car are clean, which means your car was driven only on the roads. Your clothes are wet, yet it hasn't rained in New York City for a few days, but I just checked that it HAS RAINED in Steuben County. Now, there's no reason for a man JUST VISITING his friend in a car to get wet, unless he WASN'T in his car for a long time. Steuben County is the most popular destination for deer hunting. And lastly, I notice you are wearing an orange jacket, Mr.Marks, which Hunters are required to wear so as to be able to be safe from other hunters.'

Martin looked at me. I smiled ruefully.

'I guess you really are a creepy stalker, Mr.Steven Blazing.', sighed Martin.

'Oh please, don't feel bad. You may go and collect your gun and deer from your friend's house later. Hunting isn't illegal, after all, though it's suspicious that you would try to hide it.'

'Come inside, please.', said Martin, ushering us in.

We went inside. The house a neat one, kept quite tidy. Pictures of Martin's wife and son adorned the walls. I had expected to see double barreled shotguns, and animal hides and heads on the walls. But I saw nothing of the kind.

Steven Blazing had the same query.

'My wife, she didn't like it. She made me get rid of all my guns and animal trophies, all skins, heads, everything. Said it was influencing our son badly. But Hunting is my passion, you understand... when I hunt, I feel invincible and alive. I am what I am because of my love for hunting. '

'I see.'

We sat down on a comfortable red sofa in the living room.

'Oh I'm so sorry, I forgot to introduce you two. This is Charlie Bolt, my friend and colleague. Charlie, Mr.Martin Marks.'

Martin extended his left hand for a handshake, I had to do the same.

Martin seemed to be around 60 years old. He was around 175cm tall. He had a kind face, he smiled rather pleasantly. His hands were steady. I could not imagine this man to be a killer.

'So? What can I do for you?', asked Martin Marks.

'The police didn't inform you about our reason of arrival?'

'No, they just said you needed to ask me some questions.'

'Its about Mrs.Cassie Turner. She's been murdered.'

In an instant, I saw Martin's face change. He was smiling earlier too, but now, his smile seemed much, much more cruel. Of course he tried to hide it, but it was obvious, Martin Marks was pleased.

'That woman got what she deserved. She killed my family.', growled Martin.

'You do realize that whatever you say can be used against you?', I asked.

'Yes, and I don't care. We had EVERYTHING... Money, love, happiness, friends... Before that woman took it away from us. My son could never do such a thing, yet he was sent to prison. I tried consoling my wife, saying he would return soon, knowing he wouldn't. And then, he killed himself. My wife became lifeless after that. It was like living with a ghost. She didn't talk, didn't eat, didn't sleep, just roamed about the house with a vacant stare. 10 days ago, she told me to take care of myself. And then, a week ago... A week ago... She... Killed herself. ', said Martin, tears in his eyes.

'Where were you on the night of the 5th, Mr.Marks?', asked Blazing.

'Do you seriously think I killed her? Yes, I would have wanted to, but I didn't. I am a good husband too after all, I couldn't let her husband suffer like I am.'

'Where... were... you?'

Martin weeped silently.

' I've been spending the last few nights at the bar nearby.'

'I assume you can prove this?'

'Just ask the bartender.'

Martin was now crying with his head in his hands.

'Oh Ellie, oh Seth! Why? How could you do this to me!?'

'Calm down, Mr.Marks.',said Blazing.

Martin stopped, with a lot of effort.

'Do you mind if I use your bathroom?', I asked, trying to change the topic.

'Through the kitchen, on your right.', said Martin.

As I passed the kitchen, I saw an unbelievable sight. The kitchen counter had the same knife-set as the one used to kill Cassie. I even picked one up to verify.

Yes, no doubt. These are the EXACT same ones.

I returned from the bathroom. Martin now seemed angry.

'We need to leave Bolt. Thank you for your time Mr.Marks. We respect your desire to be alone, but be advised... We may return if we have any more questions.'

On the taxi ride back home, Steven asked me: 'So, what do you think of him?'

I told him about my discovery in the kitchen. But Steven shook his head and dismissed my implied idea.

'It doesn't matter, that doesn't prove anything, there may be hundreds of other houses with the same set. And besides, let's not forget that the knife was taken from the victim's home itself.'

Another dead-end.

After being seated in our apartment, I asked Blazing : 'Tell me something. I see the police helping you so much, and giving you all the information. What investigation are they doing themselves?'

'By my guess, nothing.', answered Blazing.

'What?'

'Yes, this is usually the case. Whenever the case seems complex, or the police THINK they know who the killer is, they make no further efforts. The NYPD knows me and my work, so they know I might find something else they didn't. This is why they cooperate. Yet, if the REAL killer is found, they'll take all the credit. '

'But then how will people who need help find you, if you aren't even known?'

'I don't really know, but it seems, off the newspapers and the internet, people do know people like me, hence many do come to me.'

'Oh, this isn't the first?', I asked, surprised.

'Not at all. Although, I usually reject all the cases brought to me, mainly because they are all petty cases.'

'You prefer serious cases?'

'Yes, they are surprisingly rewarding to the brain in the end.'

'But... Forget everything else... The fame is your right, YOU solved the case, not the police. Doesn't that bother you, that someone else is impressing other people, standing on your shoulders?'

'No.'

I was surprised.

'Why not?'

'Because Fame, my dear Bolt, is a deadly thing. With unlimited Fame, comes unlimited ENEMIES. And ENEMIES are one thing you DO NOT want in my line of work.'

Hey guys! So, let me know if you liked this chapter via voting and commenting, like you lovely people already do!

Don't forget to read the next chapters too!

Okay, I'm sleepy now... The story will resume again soon. Till then, Happy... Zzz...(snoring)

-S. B.