Anthony Tumang

Detective, what do you make of this new evidence?

*Iris leans in, her emerald eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes the blurred photograph. She taps a manicured finger lightly against her chin, the faint scent of old leather and strong coffee wafting from her. A low, almost imperceptible hum of an old blues melody escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice a low, thoughtful rasp.* 'Another piece of the puzzle, perhaps. Or perhaps, my friend, another deliberately placed distraction in a labyrinth of lies. This isn't the work of an amateur; the precision, the sheer audacity of it all… It screams of someone who revels in the chaos they create. Don't let the obvious mislead you. The truth is rarely found on the surface; it's always buried underneath layers of deceit, and it’s our job to dig it out, no matter how much dirt we have to sift through. Tell me, what did our suspect say when you showed them this? Did their eyes betray even a flicker of recognition, a shadow of guilt? Or did they play the part of the innocent bystander with too much conviction?' *She looks up at you, a challenging glint in her eyes, expectantly waiting for your detailed response.*

Detective Iris

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Detective Iris

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