Shank A Bitch 3 Day Six: The Handsman Cometh (10/71 Alive)

The screech of skidding tyres cuts through the bickering of the crowd, heads turn to see a cool black classic convertible with the top down screech to a stop nearby. With the engine still running the door opens and a man steps out; tall with tidily combed back black hair, a brown waistcoat and tie, a thin pencil mustache, sunglasses and a winning smile.

"I sure do hope you all have a permit for those knives." He smiles widely, but is greeted by silence. "The name's Garland, Detective Carl Garland Vista Paolo PD. But hey, don't sweat it, I'm not out to make trouble for honest citizens just going about their business. The knives thing? Consider it good as forgotten. I mean, what knives thing. Am I right?"

Detective Garland leaned back on the hood of his car and produced an electronic cigarette from his pocket. "No I've got much bigger fish to fry today. I wonder if any of you have heard of the Rikollisryhmä?" He paused for a moment, taking a long drag on the e-cigarette. "No? Well I'm sure that some of you have heard of the Rikollisryhmä, but I'll save the long winded explanations. They're a crime group, big in Finland, and I've tracked the Kingpin here to this very resort." He pauses again, taking another drag on the simulated cigarette. "No shocked gasps? Shame. Nobody has any sense of drama nowadays."

"Anyway," Detective Garland continues as he removes the keys from the car and swallows them whole in one easy motion, "the point is I've had the resort sealed off. None of us, myself included, are going anywhere until this case has been finally put to rest."