Detective Hans stood on the roof of the house, gazing at the scene below as the drizzle soaked his coat. Lost in thought, he clenched his fists, piecing together the puzzle in his mind. 

"Detective," his assistant called from the door to the roof. Hans turned sharply, breaking free from his reverie. "Any similar suicide cases in the vicinity?" he asked. 

"None so far," the assistant replied. 

Hans nodded. "Let’s talk to the people downstairs," he said briskly, heading down to where a small crowd had gathered outside the house. A man named Joe had jumped from the roof, his death ruled as a suicide. 

"Suicide note?" Hans asked. The assistant handed him a piece of paper. It read: "No one is responsible for my death. I just don’t want to live anymore." 

"Did you compare the handwriting with the victim’s?" Hans queried. 

"Yes, sir. It matches with his work-related documents," the assistant confirmed. 

Hans hummed thoughtfully. "I want a list of everyone he interacted with in the past week." 

Within hours, a list was compiled. The detective pored over it: Joe’s wife, his children, and a handful of friends. Hans scrutinized the file for significant life events or incidents, but everything appeared normal. Too normal. 

"Almost too perfect," Hans muttered under his breath. 

"Maybe it really was just a suicide," the assistant suggested, flipping through the documents. 

Hans raised an eyebrow. "This makes three suicides in this small town in the last 63 days. Did you compile the files on the previous cases?" 

The assistant handed him the dossiers. Hans pinned the photos of the victims on a board: Joe, a banker in his mid-20s; Emily, a small-town business owner who hanged herself after her business failed; and Jack, a corporate employee who had died from poisoning. 

At first glance, the cases seemed unconnected. But Hans trusted his instincts. He listed the details on the board, searching for patterns. Then he noticed something peculiar: the progression. Jack had been poisoned, Emily hanged, and Joe jumped. 

"Check the CCTV near the bank, roads, and any nearby cafés," Hans instructed. Hours later, his assistant returned with footage of the three victims chatting outside a café. "So, they knew each other," Hans murmured. 

The handwriting in all three suicide notes matched their personal records, but Hans noticed something odd: no errors, no smudges, no second thoughts. They were too perfect, almost scripted. 

"What was Emily’s business?" Hans asked. 

"She was a supplier for a packaged food brand," the assistant replied. 

"Investigate it," Hans ordered. 

The inquiry revealed that Emily had been repackaging expired goods with falsified expiration dates. Hans confronted Shawn, the CEO of the company. "I found something interesting," Hans said, watching Shawn’s expression carefully. A twitch of the brow—subtle, but not subtle enough. 

Shawn denied any connection to the deaths, but further investigation uncovered footage of Emily visiting Shawn’s office with Joe two years ago. Back then, Joe had introduced Emily to Shawn, and they began dating. However, it later emerged that Emily was also having affairs with both Joe and Jack. 

Hans pieced it together. Shawn had been enraged when he discovered Emily’s infidelity, killing her and framing her death as a suicide. He then eliminated Joe and Jack to cover his tracks. Hans had his proof. Shawn was arrested. 

Days later, Shawn received a visitor in jail. He walked into the visitation room, surprised to see Hans sitting there. 

"I told you to focus on work and not women," Hans said coldly, his voice laced with menace. 

"Sir... I didn’t know—" Shawn stammered. 

"Don’t give me that crap. You knew she was my woman, didn’t you?" Hans interrupted. 

"I-I swear it was a mistake," Shawn pleaded. 

Hans leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with calculated fury. "No, it wasn’t. I had to investigate my own case after killing those three. You were the perfect guinea pig. Now you can rot here in peace." 

Hans stood and motioned for the guards. "Take him away," he ordered. Shawn screamed after him, "Sir! Hans! You can’t do this to me!" 

But Hans was already walking away, a satisfied smirk on his face as the echoes of Shawn’s cries faded behind him.