On the 22nd of March,around 6:30 p.m.,sounds of honking cars were still faintly heard. The cold breeze gently blew in through the window, and the lights kept flickering. Time passed  slowly, and through the window, I could see the children in the opposite building staring at the television. Just as I was about to leave my office,a man walked in, bald,funny-looking, and appearing to be in his late forties. I sat back in my chair and beckoned him to sit down. He sat opposite me and took a long time to speak. Finally, he spoke up, "Good day, Miss Christa. I'm here to report a missing person case ". I brought out a notebook,placed it on the table, and relaxed back to further listen to what he had to say. I wondered why he didn't go to the police and come to me, but still, it would be an easy case. He went on," I'm Mr. Hector Benicio, second son of one of the richest men in London. My elder brother Nelson went on a business trip to France and hadn't returned for the past two months. I would like you to investigate more and find out the reason why he hadn't returned". "Have you tried contacting him or reporting him to the police?" I said to him. "I've done that already; that's why I came to you; aren't you a detective after all?" Your job is to investigate the matter," he replied in a harsh tone. Only his tone could have made me call off the case, but as a detective, I had to fulfill my duties when needed. I took on the case, and he gave me the necessary information I needed. I was going to France for the first time, specifically Paris. After he left, I picked up my coat, hat, and scarf and left the office. I drove down to my apartment to get some rest for tomorrow's journey.

Mr. Hector was kind enough to book my plane tickets and promise to take care of my expenses in France. He might be a rude person, but no doubt he loved his brother. I arrived at London Gatwick Airport and boarded my plane. I arrived at Charles de Gaulle airport half past seven. The French breeze welcomed me as it blew through my clothes. I held my scarf closed, preventing it from blowing away. Tiny snowflakes dropped on the ground, indicating the winter season. I took a cab to the Grand Hotel du Paris Royal,the exact hotel where Mr. Nelson checked in. According to the brochure, there were elegant rooms and suites with free wifi, plus a chic French restaurant,a lounge, a  bar, and a spa. It was also closed to the Louvre museum and opera house. Paris was a perfect place to spend a vacation; maybe after the case, I would stay a few days. I checked into room 101, the exact room Mr. Nelson had checked into. I quickly looked around for any clues to Mr. Nelson's disappearance, but I found none. I decided to have a chat with the receptionist, hoping to get some information from her. Luckily, she was less busy,which made it easier to have a chat with her. The chat went on smoothly until I decided to bring up Mr. Nelson. She fidgeted for a little and finally declined to know anyone by the name of Nelson Benicio. Through her eyes, it was obvious that she was hiding the truth, but why? I insisted she reconsider and showed her pictures of him. It took her a long time to accept that she knew him. According to her, he stayed in the hotel but left after two weeks. I inquired if he took his luggage with him; she replied negatively and requested someone take me to where his luggage was. I looked through his luggage and found only a few things: his documents and a piece of paper in a brown-covered note book. I kept the paper in my right pocket and headed back to the receptionist. I didn't bother telling her about my findings since she would be of no use to me. She looked rather relieved when I told her that I found nothing, which made me more suspicious. In my room, I opened the piece of paper. On it was written, "Nelson, can you please meet me at Chez Casmir at Gate du Nord, 6 rue de Belzance, at 6 p.m.?" I had gotten my next clue. I needed to find out who was Beauty, and Chez Casmir was the first place I had to search. I brought out my laptop to Google out the place and get some relevant information. It was apparently one of the most popular restaurants in Paris and wasn't that far. I quickly picked up my coat,boarded a cab, and headed there. I took a seat next to the door to get a closer look at the people who came in. Not long after, a man sat opposite me and kept stealing glances at me. He looked like a foreigner, to be specific, an African or maybe a black American. Anyway, he had a good French accent and spoke French fluently. Maybe he was from one of the francophone countries in Africa. I turned my face away, avoiding his glance. He finally broke the silence between us: "Bonjour Mademoiselle,êtes vous bien?" "Oui,je suis bien," I replied. "Pourquoi as-tu demande?" I asked him, "J'ai demande parce que vous assez l'air inquiet," and he replied concerned. The conversation kept on going. I decided to inquire about Mr. Nelson from him, but before I could do that, the waiter came over to take our orders. I would have preferred a cup of latte instead, but the man insisted I order it and that he would foot the bill. It was generous of him, but I'm a lady who doesn't like accepting favors from men, mostly those I barely knew. I didn't want to appear arrogant to the stranger, so I decided to let him foot the bill and order our food.

CHEZ CASMIR MENU

Deserts

Flakery, buttery croissant

Croissant/pain au chocolat

Lunch

Escargots

Fore Gras

Fresh Baguette

SPECIALS

Narella crepe

Jarques Gerun Caramels

French cheese

The menu looked appetizing, and it was hard for me to decide what to order. The stranger ordered escargots and a flakey, buttery croissant for me. He finally introduced himself as Monsieur Louis Raphael; he was a frequent customer at the restaurant and knew everyone that came to the restaurant. He easily spotted first-timers and took it upon himself to welcome them to the restaurant. Though he wasn't a staff member of the restaurant, he voluntarily brought in more customers for them without requesting anything. I went ahead to ask him about Mr. Nelson and if he knew him, and I showed him his picture. He looked at it for a long time and finally let out a chuckle. He replied that Mr. Nelson was his close friend who visited the Casmir anytime he was on a business trip. He went on to tell me about how Mr. Nelson found interest in a French lady and often brought her here to have lunch and sometimes dinner. Her name was Beauty, and she was the same lady who wrote the letter to Mr. Nelson. He further told me about a certain day when Mr. Nelson was meant to meet Beauty, but he never showed up. Beauty called him up to inquire where his friend was, but he had no idea. I thanked him for the bit of information he had given me and requested to see a picture of the lady. He showed me a picture on his phone that included him, Mr. Nelson, and the lady. I was perplexed upon seeing the lady in the picture. Coincidentally, Mademoiselle Beatrice was the lady Mr. Nelson found interest in. I wondered why she refused to give me any information about Mr. Nelson. I left the Casmir and headed back to the hotel. Unfortunately, Mademoiselle Beatrice's shift was over and she had gone home. I requested her address but was declined since the hotel policy went against the sharing of personal information by their workers. I didn't want to blow my cover yet and decided to find out her address myself. I remembered that during the conversation between me and her, she mentioned living near a restaurant, and it dawned on me that it was the Casmir. I recalled that Mr. Louis had said that Beauty lived close by.

I arrived at her apartment building and hoped I was at the right one. I rang the doorbell and patiently waited for someone to open the door. Shock was written all over her face on seeing me, and she inquired what brought me to her house and how I found out where she lived. I finally introduced myself as detective Christa Cairo and told her I was here to interrogate her on the missing case of Mr. Nelson Benicio. At first, she refused and requested that I leave her house. I reminded her that refusing to give me the necessary information I needed would be a risk to Mr. Nelson. She obliged and let me into her apartment. I took a good look at her apartment and noticed it was well furnished with expensive furniture, which I'm sure were gifts from Mr. Nelson. Portraits of cats were seen hanging on the wall. She was a cat lover, which was obvious by the many cats I saw moving around. She sat down on a couch, while I sat down on one opposite her. A cat jumped on her lap, and she gently stroked it. "What do you want to know exactly? I don't have all the time in the world to talk to you," she said angrily. I replied, asking her how long she knew Mr. Nelson and if she was involved in his disappearance. She narrated how they met the first time at Chez Casmir,where she mistakenly bumped into Mr. Nelson and spilled his coffee on him. She offered to help him dry clean, but he refused, insisting he was late for a meeting. Coincidentally, he checked into the exact hotel where she was working, and she used that opportunity to apologize for spilling coffee on his shirt. Days passed by,they grew fond of each other, and anytime he came to Paris for a business meeting, he spent his leisure time with her. On the day he wanted to propose to her,it was precisely the day he went missing. All means of finding him were fruitless, and till now, I had no information about his whereabouts.

Before she continued talking, there was a knock on the door. I wondered why the person didn't use the doorbell. She went to check who was at the door and didn't come back for a long time. I went to check on her, but there was no sign of her around. I opened the door, looking outside for any sign of her. Strange, how can she just disappear like that? I heard some noise coming from Chez Casmir and decided to check it out. The front door was opened, which made me more suspicious. I stealthily walked in,looking around. Suddenly, I heard a sound coming from Chez Casmir. I saw someone going into the Casmir; he or she wasn't visible enough since it was night. I followed the stranger of the night stealthily, avoiding making any sound. The stranger unlocked the front door and went in. I followed suit and arrived at the back of the Casmir. From where I was, I spotted Mademoiselle Beatrice tied up at a corner and a tall figure hiding between the shadows, watching over her. Not long after, the stranger I was following walked towards her and gave her a tight slap, surprising me. I could still not recognize the stranger in the dimmed light of the security lights, but from the body figure,it appeared to be a well-built man wearing a black leather hoodie jacket. He kept on saying something to Mademoiselle Beatrice that was inaudible. I came closer, hoping to hear better, and mistakenly made a noise that alerted them. The tall figure in the shadows quickly ran away, followed by the dark stranger. I ran towards Mademoiselle Beatrice, quickly untying her. I removed the cloth from her mouth, enabling her to speak. Before she could say anything, a gunshot was heard, and the next thing I knew, she dropped to the floor with blood rushing from her back. Someone between the bushes had fired the bullet. I fired the bullet back, missing by a second, and couldn't get the person since the person quickly ran away. I held on to Mademoiselle Beatrice, telling her it would be alright and that she would definitely make it. While trying to get her to the hospital,she stopped me and told me that her time was up. Her last words were ". Then she gave up the ghost right there. I brought out my phone and called the police and ambulance. Her dead body was taken while I explained the matter to the inspector. He lacked interest in what I said and simply told me to return to where I came from because I don't really know what I'm dealing with. Before I could ask him to explain what he really meant,he drove off with the police van.