The Mad Detective: Supernatural Sleuths Series, #2

By Shantnu Tiwari

Malk sees things no one else does. Invisible monsters that rip humans apart and get away with it. Dead people ask him to solve their murders. His mirror image is a crazy woman and he hears voices in his head. 

 

Is he crazy, or is everyone else crazy?

 

Malk is the Mad Detective: He takes on murder cases no one else will. Murders committed by things that aren't even human. He can only hope the voices in his head don't end up killing him before he solves the case… 

 

5 stories featuring the Mad Detective

 

A Dance With Madness—A teenage girl is kidnapped by dark shadows. The police tell Malk such a girl never existed and he must have imagined the whole thing. But then the shadows start hunting him…

 

My Mirror Wants To Kill Me – An old man claims his mirror is trying to kill him. So Malk offers to stay the night in his haunted house.

 

The Voices in My Head Are Crazy – Malk gets a case: Solve a 70 years old murder, or more people will die…

 

She Didn't Have An Accident, She Was Murdered – Malk sees a woman murdered in open daylight. But everyone else pretends it was an accident. And Malk is warned not to interfere…

 

Sorry Miss, But I Can't Solve Your Murder— A dead woman asks Malk to solve her murder. Of course he says yes.

Part of the Supernatural Sleuths Series

 

These detectives don't deal with normal cases. No missing cats and cheating husbands. Only demons who want to rip them apart, dead people who want to solve their own murders and gods who play with them like puppets. Books in the series:

 

Book 1: The Defeated Detective: Royce loses every case he takes. Also, he ends up being killed a lot and must often dig his way out of the grave before he can solve any crime.

 

Book 2: The Mad Detective: Malk is a homeless boy who sees old horrors that shouldn't exist. And when they murder innocents in our world, he must bring the monsters to justice. If he can.

 

Book 3: The End of The World Detective: The apocalypse may have happened but crime hasn't gone away. Elric will make sure that people don't use the apocalypse as an excuse to get away with murder.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shantnu Tiwari
• Release date: Aug 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393829430

Book preview

Malk sees things no one else does. Invisible monsters that rip humans apart and get away with it. Dead people ask him to solve their murders. His mirror image is a crazy woman and he hears voices in his head.

---

Is he crazy, or is everyone else crazy?

---

Malk is the Mad Detective: He takes on murder cases no one else will. Murders committed by things that aren’t even human. He can only hope the voices in his head don’t end up killing him before he solves the case…

A Dance With Madness

A girl vanishes, kidnapped by a dark invisible force. A homeless boy sees the crime, but no one believes him. The police say such a girl never existed.

And soon, he is being hunted by shadows, and his own mirror images laughs at him.

The boy must now figure out if he is going crazy, or if the world is crazy.

1

The red light blinked harshly into my eyes. It was meant to slow down the traffic, but all it did was burn red into my head. At night, the traffic light switched to a blinking red light, a warning to motorists to slow down. It didn’t work; the drivers still drove like maniacs through what was a school area in the daytime.

From my dumpster, my bed for the night, as it were, I could see the traffic lights clearly. It was a nice place to lie down. During the day, it was a busy place, with the buzz of school kids running around, their parents arriving ten minutes after school closing, mobile phones stuck to their ears, screaming loudly into their phones, screaming even louder at the kids to get into the car, as if it was the kids’ fault the parents were late. And then later in the evening, the quiet sound of the teachers leaving, as well as the few kids who took extracurricular activities. These kids were quieter, leaving with their football kits or their guitars, walking home in a more leisurely pace.

For a few hours after that, you could see the occasional person walking home from work, sometimes holding a bag of fish and chips in their hand, headphones playing loud music, ignoring me, pretending they couldn’t see me, couldn’t see me lusting after their food.

At night, this place became deserted. There were few houses around, mostly retirees who went to bed early. Which meant this was a good place for a homeless guy like to me to hide from the police and the moral vigilantes who felt people like me were a bane on society.

Sleeping rough near the school was like a joke for me. It was here, just a few years ago, that my teachers had warned me: If I didn’t clean up my act, I would become a homeless bum. Well, I showed them, didn’t I. I was a homeless bum, sleeping right next to my school. I even saw a few juniors, kids a few years younger than me. A few had pity for me, most had contempt. It no longer bothered me.

My visions had stopped.

Those mad visions which had driven me crazy. My dead grandma waking me up every night. Old Mrs McGinty rising from the grave to drink Suzy’s blood every night. Suzy vanished a few days later. Dark things that moved around the school after night. Things no one else could see.

All those visions were gone. Thanks the demons for that.

And so I settled in to sleep. It was going to be another cold night, though it was still only July. But the weather was getting colder. My boxes of cardboard no longer warmed me, and I would need to start taking extreme measures soon.

The cold gave me a violent shiver, which is why I saw her.

Miyuki Chan, a pretty sixteen year old. Born in Japan, moved here ten years ago. She was one of the handful who showed me pity, even offering me her food once or twice, which is why I knew her.

The question was, what the hell was she doing here so late in the night?

She was standing there, holding her violin case. Like many Asians, her parents were hyper competitive. Not only did Miyuki top her class in academics, she was training to become a professional violin player, taking extra classes after school.

There were no violin classes at eleven in the night.

Besides, there was something wrong.

She was staring straight ahead, her eyes empty, her face full of raw terror. Her school uniform was torn, a large gash in her shirt going across her stomach; there was blood on her legs, and she was missing one shoe.

All the while, she stood there, under that harsh blinking red light, like a puppet, holding her violin case, stood there like she was in a daze.

Then she saw me. She was crying, her eyes red, her face in pain.

A black cloud swept by her.

And then she vanished.

2

No one believed me, of course. They knew my reputation.

The police were polite enough to pretend to listen. They even took notes.

Who was this Miyuki? Where did she live?

I had no idea.

No one called Miyuki had been reported missing.

Maybe the parents didn’t know yet?

It was one in the night. They would have noticed if their daughter had vanished. Besides, the police couldn’t do anything until the parents complained. They would contact me. What was my address again?

Of course the police knew I was homeless. It was a faint dig. Get lost, punk, before we throw you in for vagrancy.

The night was still cold when I left the police station. A local clock tower told me the time was three in the night.

The school would open around seven in the morning; I had four hours to kill.

Sleep came hard. I slept in small winks, and then I had nightmares about Miyuki. About dark, evil forces ripping her apart; her screaming in pain but no one hearing her; about the darkness coming for me after her.

I woke up with a scream, only to find a few people staring at me. It was six-thirty in the morning and the early office crowd was on the move. I had fallen asleep near a bus stand, and that’s where the people were staring at me from.

My body still shaking from the cold, I rubbed my hands. I wanted to be in a warm bed, drink hot tea and eat a toast, but there was fat chance of that happening.

I walked to the school where Miyuki had vanished from. Someone there would know what had happened to her.

3

Sam Worth was woken up by a loud knock on his door. Which was a surprise.

His office doubled as his home. At night, he slept on a rolled-up mattress he kept in the storeroom. There was no need to pay two rents when he could use his office to sleep. He didn’t need to do much in the daytime, so renting a home was a waste of money.

As a private detective, he was used to people knocking on his door at all times of the day and night. But never at 8AM on a Sunday morning. No one came that early. Unless the were desperate.

Luckily, Sam had brushed his teeth and was wide awake. He quickly put on a shirt and trousers and opened the door.

Yeah? he said, only to be surprised by his visitor.

This was not good.

It was Jimmy Two Fingers, head of the local mafia. He got his name because he had lost two of his fingers in a knife fight.

Why was Jimmy here? Sam was sure he didn’t owe any money to the mob.

Jimmy Two Fingers read his mind. Relax. I’m here to hire your services. You still in business, right?

Sam let him in. Tea? Coffee?

Tea, please. Black, no sugar.

Sam made two cups of tea. So Jimmy, how can I help you today?

Jimmy looked conflicted. Like he didn’t want to say anything. Finally, he spoke.

It’s my niece.

He took out a photo of a schoolgirl. She was slightly overweight, wearing a ridiculously short skirt and too much makeup. So like any other teenager then.

Her name is Angela. Really sweet girl.

Angela was giving the middle finger to the camera, while her tongue was out in a very sexual pose. Sweet wasn’t how Sam would have described her.

Jimmy just stared at the photo until Sam coughed politely.

She’s vanished. Poof. Gone.

Sam raised his eyebrows. Come now, Jimmy. You know the police are better equipped to deal with cases like this. Especially since she’s still a child. You yourself have a dozen men working for you. I’m not sure why you think I can help.

Jimmy kept silent. Sam drank his tea.

She was with my best mate, Tony. He was in prison with me. Real tough guy. I once saw Tony pick up two bikers and smash their heads so hard, they both passed out.

Sam knew Tony, of course. He was the head of the local skinhead gang, beating up any black or Asian unlucky to cross his path. Tony the White Knight, he called himself, in a completely sarcasm-free manner. Tony had once been the drug baron of East London, before, in a karmic twist, the White Knight had lost his drug empire when he was arrested for beating a black teenager half to death, and the Nigerian gangs took over his territory.

Tony and his remaining skinhead gang now did odd jobs for people like Jimmy Two Fingers.

What happened to Tony? Sam asked, not really caring.

"Tony was looking after