Shahryar was standing with his friend, Inspector Nasir, in the bedroom of the famous atomic scientist, Professor Aqil. The professor's body lay on the bed, his legs hanging off the edge. The rest of his body was lying crookedly, his hands spread slightly outwards. Blood had oozed from his nose, which had now congealed. The room's details were being meticulously arranged in Shahryar's mind. On the nightstand, a lamp, made in the style of an art piece, was off, though its switch was on. He found this strange but then thought perhaps its bulb had blown. Near the bed on the floor lay the professor's elegant black metallic walking stick. The only window was closed, with thick curtains drawn over it. On one side was a writing table, and on the other, a few chairs and an ebony cabinet.
"The apparent cause of death is a cardiac arrest, but the doctor suspects that the arrest was induced by some external factors," the inspector told Shahryar. "The details will only be known after the post-mortem," he continued. Shahryar merely hummed in acknowledgment, already busy absorbing every detail of the room. He moved slowly, his eyes scanning everything from every angle. He thoroughly examined the cabinet and the writing table. He then stood near the Inspector, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. Then, thinking something, he returned to the bed and began examining the professor's body. He opened his eyes, unbuttoned the shirt, and checked the chest. Then he focused on his hands, noticing the professor's fingers were slightly bent inwards. He gently tried to straighten them. Although rigor mortis had set in, he succeeded in straightening them to some extent. When he looked at the tips of his fingers, a realization dawned on him - they were slightly scorched.
He looked around the room again, and his gaze fell upon the metallic walking stick on the floor. He bent down and picked it up, examining it closely. The rubber cap was missing from its bottom. He put it back in its place. "This stick bothers me," Shahryar told the inspector. "Tell your staff to bring it to the police station." "Friend, I am getting confused in this case. If the post-mortem report does not declare this death to be from a natural heart attack, then my superiors will make my life miserable. I have examined everything in the room, but I found no sign of murder," the Inspector told Shahryar. "Have you still not formed an opinion?" he then inquired. "I have a theory, but until the post-mortem report confirms or denies it, I am unable to say anything," Shahryar replied. "This stick, however, bothers me."
"Then there's nothing to do for us anymore. The staff will handle the forensic work. What about joining me on tea at my office until the autopsy report arrives?".
A smile appeared on Shahryar's lips. "So you want me to solve this case for you and, as always, you'll take the credit?" he said, chuckling. The inspector was embarrassed. But then the thought of the professor saddened Shahryar. The professor was a great scientist of his homeland. A reliable government official had recently told him that the professor was secretly working on a project to build an astonishingly simple and inexpensive nuclear reactor. If that project succeeded, his country would overcome its electricity crisis forever. Perhaps the enemies of the country did not want it to be accomplished. Hidden forces had become active against the professor and had finally succeeded in their nefarious objectives. His eyes welled up. The professor had become a martyr for his homeland.
He closed his eyes. Then, suddenly, he opened them. They were bloodshot. Looking at the professor, he said, "Professor, I swear that I will find your killers even from the depths of the earth, and I will not rest until they receive an exemplary punishment." Saying this, he took a deep breath and said to the inspector, "Let's go." Both friends left the room.