"Good job!" Inspector Amar Najmi is beaming with joy. "We managed to narrow down the suspects for the case. Now, what's left is to find the evidence for us to prove the main suspect is the one responsible for the crime. If everything was as you have predicted, it will take a short while for us to solve the case. Why not wait here until we get the good news?"
You look at your watch and it is only 2.30 p.m. You still have a lot of time in your hands so you decide to stay and observe the police headquarters while waiting for Inspector Amar Najmi to deliver the verdict for the case you have just come back from.
A moment after that, Inspector Amar Najmi walks up to you beaming with pride to tell you that the morning case has been solved. The main suspect has confessed. Hearing that, you let out a sigh of relief.
Suddenly, you and the rest of the people in the police station hear a loud booming noise. It came from the bus terminal nearby. Immediately, you and Inspector Amar rush to the scene.

“Better let my officers investigate first,” Inspector Amar immediately orders a few police officers to assist him in examining what had happened to the Capital City bus terminal. After 15 minutes, he steps around the burned and mangled debris of what had been the rear wall of the Capital City bus terminal.
Inspector Amar points to a four-man squad arranging charred bits of metal on a white sheet. “A bomb was in a locker. It went off at 3 p.m. There were a few injuries, but nothing serious. The mechanism was an old wind-up clock wired to two sticks of dynamite. It was triggered by the alarm mechanism hitting the ‘3’.”
“Any motive?”
“Not a clue. My guess is the conspirator did it for the thrill, like some of the sick arsonists we’ve dealt with lately.”
“Let’s hope we catch him before he tries again.” you glance around the terminal. “Did anyone see who used the locker?”
“I got in touch with the night clerk.” Inspector Amar waves over a slight, sleepy-looking woman. “Ms. Midza Zorifah, tell my associate what you saw.”
“Certainly.” Midza Zorifah adjusts her thick eyeglasses and clears her throat. “Last night as I was coming in to work, around 2 a.m. I saw this cabdriver parking out front. He walked in with a red travel bag and put it in that locker.”
Inspector Amar waves again and two more men cross to join them.
“We checked with the cab companies. Only two taxies were in the area around 2 a.m. unfortunately, Ms. Midza Zorifah can’t identify the driver.”
“I remember the red bag,” Midza Zorifah apologizes, “but not the guy’s face.”
The first driver, Aeiman Norman, is a tall, fair-haired lad, barely out of high school. “I’ve been driving for about a month,” he explains. “I picked up a passenger at the airport and dropped her off at the hotel on the corner. That was around 2 a.m. Then I filled up the gas station on Highland and ended my shift. If this lady says I came in here, she’s lying. I haven’t been in a bus station in years.”
The second driver, Zahid Osu, is around the same height but middle-aged and with a pronounced gut hanging over his belt. “I dropped off a fare in front of the terminal,” he tells Inspector Amar. “My fare said he’d left his car in the parking lot earlier in the day and had to pick it up. That was a few minutes after 2. Then my dispatcher sent me to a bar on Fifth to pick up a drunk. No one was there. A man waved me down and I took him to an all-night diner on Swann Street. It’s all in my log book if you don’t believe me.”
One of the members of the bomb squad is standing by, waiting for a chance to speak. “Excuse me, Inspector,” he says. “The container was a red bag, just like the witness said. A red leather satchel.”
“Thanks,” Inspector Amar says, then he turns to you and shrugged. “Not much to go on, huh?”
“Just enough to give us the bomber,” you say confidently. “I can’t tell you why, but I can certainly tell you who.”