Chapter 79: Offering Advice, Small Talk, and Mistakes

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Detective Lukal pushed the morgue drawer back into place and gestured for Will to come over to the desk to sign the paperwork.

“At the scene, everything was cleaned thoroughly. We didn’t find any valuable evidence,” Lukal began, his tone measured.

“Not a single footprint or fingerprint was left behind.”

“These people were professionals. From the location of the bodies and the ballistic analysis of the bullets, it’s clear there was more than one perpetrator and more than one gun.”

“They subdued your brother and his associates without resistance before executing them. They took everything that could reveal their identities and cleaned up the scene completely.”

—

As Will finished signing the documents, he slammed the desk with his hand.

“So you’re telling me you’ve made zero progress?”

“Detective Lukal, my brother is dead, lying in a freezer in the back,” Will snapped.
“I expect you to do something to give him some peace in hell—not stand here and tell me you’re helpless!”

—

Lukal calmly retrieved the paperwork, reviewing it for accuracy before speaking.

“Mr. Will, I sympathize with your loss, and I regret this tragedy. But you know cases like this are not easy to crack.”

“Your background and your brother’s are not typical. For most people, there are only a few possible motives in such a crime. But for you? The possibilities are endless.”

“And, Mr. Will,” Lukal added, tapping Will’s chest lightly with a clipboard, “the fact that the scene was cleaned so professionally is itself a valuable clue.”

“These were professionals.”

—

Will paused, visibly processing the statement. Lukal waited a few moments before continuing.

“Think about your enemies—or anyone who might know something.”

“Of course, I’m not suggesting you seek revenge. I’m asking for your help to provide leads for our investigation.”

—

Cases like this required extensive investigation and evidence gathering. Even obtaining a search warrant could take precious time, potentially losing the best chance to solve the case. Ṛâ𝐍Ö₿Ěś

Additionally, the police were constrained by legal protocols, while gang members operated with fewer restraints. This was why top detectives often relied on informants within the underworld.

Lukal was pragmatic. To him, justice wasn’t about rigid adherence to legal procedure—it was about ensuring perpetrators paid for their actions.

If he could nudge Will into action and quietly monitor him, the case might resolve itself with minimal effort.

—

Will’s expression softened slightly, his tone calmer. “Detective Lukal, you’re a good officer. If I find any leads, I’ll contact you immediately.”

He glanced at his watch. “But I have pressing matters to attend to, so…”

“I have my own cases to handle.”

“Goodbye, then?”

“Goodbye.”

—

Back in his office, Lukal immediately assigned four plainclothes officers to shadow Will, two cars alternating surveillance.

If Will made any bold moves, Lukal wanted to know instantly.

“Efficient, cost-effective, and likely to get results,” Lukal muttered to himself.

—

Later that afternoon, after finishing his tasks, Lukal recalled his promise of a coffee owed to an intriguing local he’d met recently.

Picking up two coffees from a café, he drove toward the area between the Port District and the Bay Area. There, he spotted Lance sitting under a sunshade outside his storefront.

—

“Care for a coffee?” Lukal asked through the car window, holding up one of the cups.

Lance noticed him and approached with a smile. “Of course, as long as it’s not too sweet.”

Lukal laughed as he handed over the cup. “Your taste doesn’t match most locals. They love their sweets.”

“Including you?” Lance took a sip, pleased it wasn’t overly sweet.

“Not me. I prefer things less sugary,” Lukal replied, stepping out of the car and joining Lance under the shade.

He glanced around at the bustling storefront. “You’ve picked a good business.”

After a pause, he added, “I see a lot of Imperials here. You’re close with them?”

Lance’s demeanor shifted slightly, his guard rising. “I met some while working in a sweatshop.”

“You know how it is—they’re often the backbone of those operations.”

—

Lukal nodded. “I read about that in a report. Where was the factory?”

“In a neighboring state,” Lance replied, his tone measured. “Honestly, it’s not something I like to talk about.”

“My apologies,” Lukal said quickly. “I shouldn’t have brought up painful memories.”

Lance smiled faintly. “It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me much anymore.”

—

The detective lit a cigarette, a timeless tool for male camaraderie. Even between strangers, it bridged gaps.

Taking a drag, he glanced at the steady flow of customers. “Imperials are hardworking, even in a society that isn’t kind to them.”

“Have you heard of any Imperial recently living the ‘Empire Dream’? You know—suddenly rich, quitting work, and living lavishly?”

Lance saw through the question immediately.

“You’re fishing for someone. Is it related to a case?”

Lukal didn’t deny it. “Your instincts are sharp. So, your answer?”

Feigning thought, Lance eventually shook his head. “I haven’t heard of anyone like that. Big case?”

“Just a theft,” Lukal said.

“I hope the victim didn’t lose too much.”

Their conversation remained superficial, yet Lukal suspected Lance was withholding something. However, he didn’t press further. Lance’s guarded nature made sense given his past.

—

At that moment, Hiram arrived, wearing his usual rain-soaked appearance. His long face and freckled skin gave him a dimwitted look as he greeted Lukal.

“Hello.”

“Afternoon,” Lukal replied with a nod.

Turning to Lance, Hiram said, “The back sewer’s clogged.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Go handle it. I’ll join you shortly.”

—

Lukal looked incredulous. “You’re a business owner! Why are you fixing sewers yourself?”

Lance chuckled. “When you’re starting out, you save wherever you can. Besides, it’s not rocket science. Hiring a plumber costs several times more.”

Draining his coffee, Lance added, “Thanks for the coffee, Detective. It was great, but I’ve got work to do.”

“I should be going too,” Lukal said, standing. “It’s been a pleasure, Lance. Let me know if you hear about anything unusual.”

“Of course. I’ll keep an ear out.”

—

As they parted ways, Lukal kept an eye on Lance through his rearview mirror, his suspicions lingering.

“This guy isn’t as simple as he seems,” the detective mused.

But with multiple cases on his plate, he couldn’t afford to dig deeper now. Still, when time allowed, he resolved to investigate Lance further.

—

When Lukal’s car disappeared down the road, Lance handed his coffee to an employee and went to the back office.

Inside, Hiram was waiting, along with two other recruits, Drecy and Lorne.

Shutting the door behind him, Lance asked, “What’s the issue?”

Hiram, ever the caricature of dimwittedness, flicked his hair with a sheepish expression that almost made Lance laugh.

“We’ve got a problem. Jason went to a bar.”

“Who?”

“One of the guys who took the $4,000 payout. He just went to a bar,” Hiram clarified.

Lance lit a cigarette and handed one to each of the men before asking, “And?”

Lorne spoke up. “I followed him. He stashed some money, then went to the bar. Ordered a 50-cent drink and exchanged $5 for change.”

Lance whistled. “That sounds like a strip club. So he’s splurging?”

Without waiting for an answer, Lance added, “Bring him back.”